Teaching Grammar in Context

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Teaching Grammar
in Context
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Teaching Grammar
in Context
Constance Weaver
Department of English
Western Michigan University
Boynton/Cook Publishers
HEINEMANN
Portsmouth, NH
Boynton/Cook Publishers, Inc.
A subsidiary of Reed Elsevier Inc.
361 Hanover Street
Portsmouth, NH 03801-3912
Offices and agents throughout the world
Copyright © 1996 by Constance Weaver. All rights reserved. No part of this

book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in
writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages
in a review.
Acknowledgments for borrowed material begin on page 287.
Library of Congress Cataloging-imPublication Data
Weaver, Constance.
Teaching grammar in context / Constance Weaver,
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-86709-375-7 (acid-free paper)
1. English language—Grammar—Study and teaching, 2. English
language—Grammar—Study and teaching (Secondary) I. Title.
PE1065.W345 1996
4282007—dc20 95-50512
CIP
Editor: Scott Mahler

Production: Melissa L. Inglis
Cover design: Jenny Jensen Greenleaf
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

99 98 RRD 6 7 8 9
Contents
Preface xi
Chapter 1 Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar: An Introduction . 1

The meanings of grammar.1
Traditional school grammar in a historical perspective.3
Chapter 2 Teaching Grammar: Reasons for, Evidence Against . 7

Why teach grammar?. . 7
Early research summaries. . 9
Research on the effects of structural and transformational
grammar. 11
A note on functional grammar. 14
A dissenting voice. 14
Three studies in detail. 16
Why teachers continue to teach grammar. 23
Toward other alternatives. 26
Chapter 3 Acquiring Grammatical Competence . . 29

Linguistic tools for understanding and analysis 29
Grammatical competence and its acquisition . 33
The process of language acquisition. 39
What is acquired. 43
Evidence from reading miscues. 45
Second language acquisition . 48
How language is acquired: A summary. 56
Chapter 4 Toward a Perspective on Error.58

Errors as a necessary concomitant of growth.59
More sophisticated errors replacing less sophisticated errors ... 72
Reconsidering what counts as error.74
Handbook prohibitions and stylistic effectiveness.75
Responding to errors in more constructive ways.81
Reconceptualizing the writing process.82
v
Alternatives to the error hunt . 87
Taming the Error Beast . . . . 101
Chapter 5 Reconceptualizing the Teaching of Grammar.102

Narrowing our focus and limiting the terminology.104
What kinds of structures should we emphasize for syntactic
growth and diversity of style?.123
Promoting growth in syntactic complexity.134
Scope and sequence in the teaching of grammar.138
Guidelines for the teaching of grammar.141
Chapter 6 Learning Theory and the Teaching of Grammar . . . . 148

Teaching grammar via miniTessons. . . 150
More on the different learning theories. . . 151
Mini-lessons as a reflection of the cognitive/constructivist
paradigm. . . 156
Toward a constructivist model of learning and teaching . . . 157
Constructivism contrasted with behavioralism. . . 162
An invitation . . . 163
Mini-lessons and other constructivist teaching strategies . . . 165
Early studies supporting a constructivist model for the
teaching of grammar. . . 174
More recent research on grammar in the writing process . . . 176
Summary of the research. . . 179
The need for informal as well as formal research. . . 180
Afterword: Conclusion and a New Beginning.181
Appendix: Sample Lessons on Selected Aspects of Grammar.185

Teaching the meaningful parts of words.187
Teaching grammar incidentally: Basic parts of speech
and structures.188
Teaching subject, verb, clause, sentence, and related concepts
for editing.190
Teaching style through sentence combining and
sentence generating.214
Teaching sentence sense and style through the manipulation
of syntactic elements.222
Teaching the power of dialects and dialects of power.227
Teaching punctuation and mechanics for convention,
clarity, and style.236
Contents
Glossary of Grammatical Terms . . . . ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ <, 243
References . ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ <.261
Index ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ .277
Contents Vll
List of Illustrations
2.1 References for and against the teaching of formal grammar.

2.2 Macauley’s grammar test (1947).
2.3 Macauley’s results (1947).
3.1 Example of structuralists’ Immediate Constituent Analysis.
3.2 Surface and deep(er) structures.
3.3 Semantic relationships in early utterances.
3.4 Grammatical constructions and patterns, other than coordinate
constructions, analyzed by O’Donnell, Griffin, and Norris (1967).
4.1 Placement of periods by a first grader.
4.2 Developmental sequence in John’s drawings.
4.3 Contrast between behavioral and constructivist approaches to
learners’ errors (Kroll and Schafer, 1978).
4.4a Pre-phonemic writing.
4.4b Early phonemic writing.
4.4c Later phonemic writing.
4.4d Transitional writing.
4.4e Transitional writing.
4.5a One first grader’s writing in September and February (Fitzgerald, 1984).
4.5b One first grader’s writing in September and June (Cochrane et ah,
1984).
4.5c One first grader’s writing in November and June.
4.6 References on the early development of spelling and writing.
4.7 Use of apostrophes by a first grader.
4.8 Use of commas by a first grader.
4.9 Effective comma splices in published writing (Brosnahan, 1976).
4-10 Effective minor sentences (Kline and Memering, 1977).
4.11 References for teaching grammar as style.
4.12 Model of the writing process.
4.13a Sophomore’s first draft.
4.13b First paragraph of sophomore’s sixth draft.
4.14 References for instituting writers’ and readers’ workshops.
4.15 References for recommended grammar texts and reference books.
4.16 Editing checklist from a first grader (Giacobbe, 1984).
4.17 Excerpts from copyedited manuscript (Little, 1994).
viii
4.18a First draft of Sherry’s introduction, her teacher’s comments on their
conference, and Sherry’s final draft.
4.18b First draft of Grant’s introduction, his teacher’s comments on their
conference, and Grant’s final draft.
4-19 Published story by three first graders.
4.20 “Errorwocky.”
5.1 Frequency of errors and of teacher marking of errors in the
ConnorS'Lunsford (1988) study.
5.2 Sentences from Hairston’s (1981) study.
5.3 Categorization of errors from Hairston’s (1981) study.
5.4 Comparison of error ranking in the Hairston (1981) and
ConnorS'Lunsford (1988) studies.
5.5 Basic grammatical concepts that need to be understood.
5.6 Narrative with T-units, clauses, and free modifiers marked.
5.7 Poem with absolute constructions.
5.8 Sentence combining exercise (Hunt, 1970).
5.9 Examples of writing using free modifiers (Christensen, 1967).
5.10 References on sentence combining and sentence generating.
5.11 Writing sample from Nicholas, a kindergartner.
5.12 Writing sample from John, a fourth grader.
5.13 A minimum of grammar for maximum benefits.
6.1 Ends of a transmission-to^transactional continuum.
6.2 A constructivist model of learning and teaching.
6.3 References on whole language as constructivist learning and teaching.
6.4 Brainstorming/clustering and subsequent writing in a “Show, don’t
tell” lesson.
6.5 Part of story by Kendall, a kindergartner.
6.6 Sample lessons from level 8 of the Daily Oral Language program
(Vail and Papenfuss, 1989/1990).
A.l Sentence or fragment? (Harris and Rowan, 1989)
A.2 Subjects and verbs, with emphasis on auxiliary and main verbs.
A.3 Common prepositions.
A.4 Coordinating conjunctions and correlative conjunctions.
A.5 Common subordinating conjunctions.
A.6 Common conjunctive adverbs.
A.7 Punctuation DOS and DON’TS.
A.8a Examples of “I am” poems in which the writers were encouraged to
use participial phrases.
A.8b Examples of “I am” poems. The top two were written by college
freshmen encouraged to use participial phrases as free modifiers.
List of Illustrations ix
A.9 Sentences for creating participial phrases and absolutes.
A. 10 References on dialects versus the Language of Wider
Communication.
A. 11 Rayford’s song (Inada, 1993).
A. 12 References representing various dialects.
A. 13 Punctuating possessive nouns.
A. 14 Ordinary plurals versus possessives.
x List of Illustrations
P REFACE
More than fifteen years ago, the National Council of Teachers of English
published my Grammar for Teachers (1979). In the intervening years, this
book has been one of NCTE’s bestsellers, attesting to the widespread
concern about teaching grammar but also reflecting the book’s congruence
with the writing process movement of the 1980s and 1990s. While suggest^
ing that teachers need to know grammar in order to teach writing more
effectively, I also argued that students mainly need to be guided in learning
and applying certain grammatical concepts as they revise and edit their
writing.
For a long while I had nothing new to say on the topic of teaching
grammar. Indeed, I was no longer teaching courses in grammar, but instead
teaching courses in the reading and writing processes and whole language
education. My books have reflected that thrust: for example, Reading Process
and Practice: From Socio-psycholinguistics to Whole Language (1994) and
Understanding Whole Language (1990). But for the past seven or eight years,
I have also been teaching, once a year, a graduate/undergraduate course on
grammar and the teaching of grammar. Teaching this course has forced me
to reread and update myself on the relevant research, naturally, but also to
reexamine, refine, and expand my thinking about what aspects of grammar
need to be taught to writers, along with the related questions of why, when,
and how.
The present book derives, then, not only from my original background
in grammar and linguistics, language acquisition, the writing process, and
the teaching of writing, but from more recent forays into learning theory
and the acquisition of literacy. As much as anything else, the book is
informed by my experiences as a teacher/researcher, always taking new risks
and trying to figure out why something has or hasn’t worked. Thus, what I
currently think about teaching grammar in the context of writing reflects
an amalgam of research and experience, which is always to some degree in
flux. It is this evolving theory that I invite you to explore in these pages,
and to which I urge you to contribute as a teacher/researcher yourself. The
book is intended for teachers at all levels, but especially the junior high
and high school levels, where grammar has been taught most intensively.
xi
Chapter 1 introduces some common meanings of grammar and provides
a historical overview of traditional school grammar books and grammar
teaching. Chapter 2 examines reasons commonly given for teaching gram-
mar as a school subject and calls these reasons into question by describing
decades of research that show the teaching of grammar in isolation to have
little, if any, effect on the writing of most students. What might be more
effective? To lay the groundwork for exploration of this topic, Chapter 3
considers how preschoolers acquire the basic structures of their native
language and how the basic grammar of a second language may likewise be
acquired. Developing an important point from that discussion, Chapter 4
suggests a research-based perspective on the concept of error itself and on
the “errors” our students make as writers, then concludes with practical
alternatives to what Lois Rosen (1987) has dubbed “the error hunt.” Chap¬
ter 5 draws upon the preceding chapters and further research in suggesting
what aspects of grammar we might focus on, as we guide our students in
becoming more effective in writing and revising sentences and in editing
their writing. Finally, Chapter 6 addresses the teaching of grammar from
the perspective of learning theory.
Originally, these six chapters were to be followed by chapters dealing
with teaching different grammatical concepts in the context of writing. But
as I met with teachers interested in sharing more effective ways of teaching
useful aspects of grammar, we realized that it would be good to have these
chapters written by various teachers who have tried different things in their
classrooms. Before long, we concluded that I should publish the more
theoretical, research-derived chapters as a separate book and that together
we should work toward a sequel in which we will share some of the lessons
we’ve learned, through experience, about teaching grammar in the context
of writing.
The Appendix, with sample lessons from my own teaching, looks
forward to the future book. These lessons illustrate the kinds recommended
in Chapter 6: incidental teaching, inductive learning, mini-lessons, and
extended mini-lessons. They also illustrate the five broad topics for grammar
lessons suggested in Chapter 5: (1) teaching concepts of subject, verb,
clause, sentence, and related concepts for editing; (2) teaching style through
sentence combining and sentence generating; (3) teaching sentence sense
and style through the manipulation of syntactic elements; (4) teaching the
power of dialects and dialects of power; and (5) teaching punctuation and
mechanics for convention, clarity, and style.
While this list sounds fairly comprehensive, the book does not actually
# 0
Xll Preface
cover everything you might have wanted to know about grammar and the
teaching of it. First, the book does not deal much with linguistic theories;
rather, I have mostly drawn upon such theories without discussing them in
detail. Second, the book does not include much of the descriptive/prescrip'
tive grammar found in the grammar handbooks. Third, the samples in the
Appendix reflect my own teaching situations and therefore do not deal with
the particular needs of so-called basic writers, or with the needs of and
issues involved in teaching students for whom English is not the native
language, or for whom a so-called standard dialect is not the dialect of their
nurture or community (but see Chapter 3 and the Appendix). Most of these
issues will be treated more thoroughly in the forthcoming sequel, tentatively
titled Lessons to Share: Teaching Grammar in Context.
In writing this text, I originally thought that whenever I used gram¬
matical terms, I would define them and give examples. Thus, for instance,
Chapter 3 includes definitions of the terms I think most important to teach,
and Chapter 5 includes some terms used in the examples to clarify research
studies described. However, defining or exemplifying every term proved
impractical, so I settled for defining a few in the text itself and, in the
Glossary, defining and illustrating these terms and others that were used
prominently in the book. Fortunately, though, I don’t think readers of this
book need to have a strong background in grammar to grasp my major
points. While a strong grammar background will enable readers to follow
the details of an argument, the essence of the arguments should typically
be clear without that background.
Thanks go to those in my Grammar and Teaching Grammar class who
have shared their work and their ideas, particularly Dan Baker, Dan Cupery,
and Jane Kiel; to classroom teachers who have shared materials, particularly
Amy Berryhill, Lisbeth Bond, Renee Callies, Scott Peterson, Christina
Travis, Susie Veeder, Sarah Woltjer-Bollow, and Grace Vento-Zogby; to
Dorothy Strickland of Rutgers University for her contribution to Chapter
6; and to my longtime friend Rosemary Monkhouse Beamand, for her
prompt help with research. In general, 1 want to thank those in the
Grammar and Teaching Grammar class who have forced me to rethink
issues and thereby taught me as much as I have taught them. Thanks go
especially to all of those who have contributed samples of their drawing
and/or writing, from kindergartners to adults. I am particularly indebted also
to my colleague and friend Ellen Brinkley for reading and commenting on
most of the chapters herein—though of course the book’s shortcomings
remain my responsibility.
Preface xiii
Scott Mahler, Associate Editorial Director of Heinemann-Boynton/
Cook, has been invaluable as a critic and supporter in the final stages of
preparing the manuscript. Thanks go also to Alice Cheyer for her dedica¬
tion and thoroughness in editing the manuscript and to Melissa Inglis for
her expert handling of the book’s production.
As always, though, my greatest appreciation goes to my son, John, and
to my partner, Rolland. They offer unfailing support for my work and bring
joy to my daily life.
xiv Preface
1
Grammar and the Teaching of
Grammar
An Introduction
At the outset it seems sensible to consider various meanings attached to

the term grammar and something of the history of grammar texts and the
teaching of grammar. That is the purpose of this introductory chapter.
The Meanings of Grammar
When teachers are invited to brainstorm what the term grammar means to
them, they commonly produce a list such as this:
• Parts of speech (elements or categories)

• Syntactic structures (phrases, clauses, sentence types; roles of
elements within larger structures)
• “Correct” sentence structure (subject-verb agreement and such)
• “Correct” punctuation and other aspects of mechanics
• Appropriate usage (often thought of as “standard” or educated
forms)
• Sentence sense; style (appropriate and effective use of syntactic
options; ability to manipulate syntactic elements)
The first two of these, parts of speech and syntactic structures, are part
of what one might call a description of how different kinds of words in a
language combine into grammatical structures, or syntax. Thus one defini¬
tion of grammar would be “a description of the syntax of a language,” or an
explanation of its syntax (a theory of language structure). The next three
items, dealing with correctness and appropriateness, clearly involve pre-
1
scriptions of how to use language. Thus another meaning of grammar is “a
set of prescriptions or rules for using language.” Still another meaning deals
with sentence sense and style: for instance, the construction of clear,
readable sentences, and the deliberate use of syntactic constructions for
particular effects. The latter might be defined as “the rhetorically effective
use of syntactic structures,” or in other words suiting syntax to such things
as the meaning, audience, genre, voice, and intended pace of a text. All
three kinds of grammar—but especially the descriptive and prescriptive—
are commonly found in the grammar books used in schools, such as War-
riner’s High School Handbook (1992), an offspring of the long-lived Warriners
English Grammar and Composition series (1986; first edition, 1951). For
related treatments of the various meanings of grammar, see Hartwell (1985)
and Francis (1954).
Most teachers conceptualize grammar as descriptions of the structure of
a language, prescriptions for its use, perhaps as sentence sense or style, and
as the kind of books designed for teaching all these. However, relatively
few teachers have realized that underlying these four senses of grammar is
a more fundamental one: the unconscious command of syntax that enables
us to understand and speak the language. Even toddlers use grammatical
constructions that are reductions and precursors of the mature syntax they
will gradually acquire. In this most fundamental sense, then, we do not
need to teach grammar at all: the grammar of our native language is part
of what we learn in acquiring that language. Furthermore, non-native
speakers of a language can acquire the language in much the same way as
native speakers, given similar kinds of opportunities to hear, use, read, and
write the language. These topics are addressed in subsequent chapters.
For now, suffice it to say that there are four major senses of grammar
that will concern us in this book:
• Grammar as a description of syntactic structure

• Grammar as prescriptions for how to use structures and words
• Grammar as rhetorically effective use of syntactic structures
• Grammar as the functional command of sentence structure that
enables us to comprehend and produce language
Chapter 2 introduces some of the reasons commonly given for direct

teaching of grammar as a system and a set of rules for language use: the
descriptions and prescriptions found in school grammar texts. First, how¬
ever, we consider the historical context from which these reasons have
arisen.
2 THE MEANINGS OF GRAMMAR

Traditional School Grammar in a Historical Perspective
During previous centuries, traditional school grammar seems to have had

two primary aims: (1) disciplining and training the mind (and sometimes
the soul); and (2) teaching grammatical forms and word usages that were
considered correct or socially prestigious. Ostensibly the socially prestigious
forms were taught to enable the lower classes to move more readily into
the middle class (or the middle classes into the upper class), but one suspects
that in effect if not intent, the result has more often been to offer the
middle and upper classes an excuse for considering themselves superior to
others (e.g., Noguchi, 1991, p. 114 ).
In any case, the teaching of grammar to schoolboys dates back to
Greece in the second century b.c. Prior to that, Aristotle and the Stoics
regarded grammar as a means of understanding language, but language as a
product of humans1 nature and therefore, “like man’s other attributes,
subject to anomalies inexplicable within any strict system of grammar”
(Huntsman, 1983, p. 61). However, the Alexandrian grammarians seem to
have assumed that language once reflected reality. In a sense, their early
grammars were attempts to recover that reality by imposing order on
language, especially the language of the centuries-old texts they were trying
to understand (Huntsman, p. 61). In our schools, the Alexandrian tradition
has dominated the study of grammar for more than two thousand years.
The first grammar text, published by Dionysios of Thrace late in the
second century b.c., became the standard for Greek schoolboys until the
twelfth century a.d. It also became the basis for Latin grammars, such as
the grammars of Donatus in the fourth century a.d. and of Priscian in the
sixth century. Their works “dominated school grammar study throughout
the Middle Ages to the Renaissance” (Hillocks and Smith, 1991, p. 592).
During the Middle Ages, the concept of grammar as training the mind
reached a peak. Grammar became the chief subject of the trivium (grammar,
rhetoric, and logic), studied intensively because it was considered the
foundation of all knowledge. Indeed, grammar was considered the gateway
to sacred knowledge as well as secular; it was the prerequisite for under¬
standing theology and philosophy as well as literature. Considered the basis
for all liberal learning, “grammar was thought to discipline the mind and
the soul at the same time” (Huntsman, 1983, p. 59). At that time, the
major task of the religious cleric (clergyman) was to use the arts, especially
Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar 3

grammar, “to disclose the hidden mysteries of Scripture.” Also, Christians
thought that grammar would enable them to examine “valid processes of
reasoning, the operations of the mind itself’ (Morrison, 1983, p. 39). Pen
haps it is no wonder that until the late 1960s and early 1970s, Great Britain
had what they called “grammar” schools for the highest achieving secon-
darydevel students. Indeed, such elitist schools still survive in a few school
districts, even today.
In the eighteenth century, as the Industrial Revolution created a new
middle class, traditional school grammar books of English became more
numerous and more important. Mastering the grammar books’ prescriptions
helped the nouveau riche gain social acceptance. But even more than
before, the eighteenth-century English grammar books were based upon the
early Latin grammars and the structure of Latin. For example, English nouns
were described as having the same cases as Latin nouns, though in fact
English had already lost most of its distinctive inflectional endings for nouns
and verbs. Users of the language were admonished to avoid splitting an
infinitive (e.g., to avoid saying “to boldly go”) because infinitives are single
words in Latin. In other words, the eighteenth-century English grammarians
concluded that because Latin infinitives cannot be split (e.g., amare, ‘to
love’), English infinitives should not be split. Their prescriptions for English
were based on descriptions of Latin, even where these were irrelevant to
English. So it was, too, with the prescription against ending a sentence with
a preposition: this literally cant be done in Latin so, the eighteenth-century
grammarians reasoned, it shouldn’t be done in English. This recourse to the
structure of Latin reflected the belief that languages like English and
German and French and Spanish were “corruptions” of Latin, which was
thought to provide a purer standard, a more accurate reflection of thought
and reality.
There were, of course, dissenting voices, even in ancient Rome, such
as that of the orator and rhetorician Quintilian. True, in support of tradi¬
tion, Quintilian did describe in his Institutes of Oratory essentially the same
parts of speech named by the earlier Greek grammarians, and Quintilian
did believe that one major concern of the grammarian should be “rules for
correctness” (Institutes, I.v.l). However, he also believed that standards for
usage should be based upon the current usage of the educated, not upon
ancient authority that has ceased to govern the speech of learned individu¬
als (I.vi.43-45).
This insight from the first century a.d. remains unappreciated even
today, because the explanations and prescriptions of the eighteenth-century
English grammarians (and the Latin grammarians before them) continue to
4 TRADITIONAL SCHOOL GRAMMAR IN A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

form the backbone of grammar texts. In the last hundred years, the structure
of the English language has come to be much better understood by scholarly
grammarians and by linguists—that is, by scholars who have attempted to
study language scientifically, and to study how language is actually used by
people. But the grammar textbooks have not changed much to reflect this
new knowledge about the language itself and how it is used. Indeed,
grammar texts still include attention to spelling and to word meanings and
choices, as did the texts of the classical grammarians (Huntsman, 1983,
pp. 58-59).
An excursion into the nature and rationale of grammar texts and
teaching in the United States sheds further light not only on the purposes
but on the methods of instruction.
From relatively early times, English grammar has been one of the
“basics” taught in U.S. schools. For instance, the Massachusetts legislature
passed in 1789 a law requiring schools to provide instruction in “orthogra^
phy [spelling], reading, writing, grammar, English language, arithmetic, and
decent behavior” (Woods, 1986, p. 5).
During the first half of the nineteenth century, what counted as learning
grammar was mainly the memorization and recitation of “definitions, rules,
paradigms, examples, and other grammatical features” (Woods, p. 7). Once
these were committed to memory, supposedly the student would then be
able to apply them. Theoretically, students would learn to apply the rules
with ease by parsing sentences: identifying the parts of speech of the words
“and specifying their case, gender, number, tense, or person in a given
sentence” (Woods, p. 18, fn. 2). In addition to promoting application of
grammatical concepts, the activities of memorizing, reciting, and parsing
were thought to train the mind, to promote mental discipline. Until the
period from 1825 to 1830, grammarians of English gave little or no evidence
of being concerned that students actually understand the grammatical in-
formation they were required to memorize and recite (Woods, p. 8).
The latter half of the nineteenth century saw the introduction of
exercises into the grammar texts, on the grounds that students needed to
be active in their own learning. These exercises included activities like
answering questions, writing sentences to exemplify certain kinds of graim
matical functions and constructions, and sometimes rearranging or combine
ing sentences. Indeed, descriptions of the contents of such grammar texts
sound very much like what we find offered as learning aids in the grammar
texts of today. That is, the texts allowed for limited production of language,
in addition to requiring analysis.
The emphasis on grammar as a reflection of thought took on renewed
Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar 5

importance in the later 1800s. Woods (1986, p. 18) nicely summarizes this
trend as follows:
[Samuel] Greene’s [1874] intricate sentence analysis had been meant as a

way of showing students how “to look directly through the expression to
the thought” (as a logician must). Similarly, the pedagogy of diagramming,
which characterized the next generation of texts after Greene’s, is defended
by Reed and Kellogg (Higher Lessons in English, 1872) as a method that
teaches students “to look through the literary order and discover the logical
order” for “[i]t is only by the aid of such a map, or picture, that the pupil
can, at a single view, see the sentence as an organic whole” [Reed and
Kellogg, 1909, p. 8]. Naturally, the exercises in diagramming, like those in
analysis and construction, were validated by that noblest stamp of nine-
teenth-century theory, mental discipline: “To study thought through its
outward form, the sentence, and to discover the fitness of the different
parts of the expression to the different parts of the thought is to learn to
think” [Reed and Kellogg, p. 7].
By the end of the nineteenth century, grammar came to be considered a

means of improving writing. Even in that context, however, grammar was
considered a form of mental discipline and a means of social refinement
(Woods, 1986, p. 18).
Recently the twentieth century has seen a shift away from the emphasis
on grammar as mental discipline and a shift toward even more emphasis
on grammar as a means of improving writing, However, the descriptions of
the eighteenth-century grammarians and the teaching methods of the latter
half of the nineteenth century persisted into the twentieth century (H. L.
Smith, 1946) and are still very much with us. Indeed, Thomas and Kintgen
(1974) note with dismay that “The school-grammars totally ignore many
of the important facts that we have learned about language in the last 150
years” (p. 13), and fdillocks and Smith (1991) note that today’s school
grammars still reflect the early Greeks’ emphasis on grammatical paradigms
and their belief that “right” grammatical forms are discoverable. “Over two
thousand years later these are still with us,” they lament (p. 591).
In Chapter 2, we consider some of the reasons commonly offered today
for teaching grammar as a formal discipline, a system of descriptions and
prescriptive rules that, in fact, are not always accurate or helpful. We then
consider the research evidence that militates against the pragmatic justifica¬
tion for teaching grammar. After considering other relevant kinds of re¬
search in Chapters 3-5, we consider in Chapter 6 an emerging research
base that points toward more fruitful ways of teaching selected aspects of
grammar.
6 TRADITIONAL SCHOOL GRAMMAR IN A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

2
Teaching Grammar
Reasons for, Evidence Against
When people talk about “teaching grammar,” what they usually mean is
teaching descriptive and prescriptive grammar: that is, teaching sentence
elements and structure, usage, sentence revision, and punctuation and
mechanics via a grammar book or workbook, or perhaps a computer pro¬
gram. They mean teaching grammar as a system, and teaching it directly
and systematically, usually in isolation from writing or the study of litera¬
ture. They mean studying parts of speech and their functions in sentences,
various types of phrases and clauses, and different sentence types, perhaps
accompanied by sentence diagraming and usually followed by a study of
such concepts as subject-verb agreement and pronoun reference. Since this
is what people typically mean by “teaching formal grammar” or “the tradi¬
tional teaching of grammar,” it is also what we shall mean in this chapter
as we discuss reasons for and evidence against the practice.
The articles listed in Figure 2.1 articulate some of these reasons and
describe some of the research.
Why Teach Grammar?
Over the centuries, various reasons have been offered for teaching formal
grammar, among them these:
1. The study of grammar is important simply because language is a

supreme human achievement that deserves to be studied as such.
2. The study of grammar can be an important vehicle for learning to
study something the way a scientist does.
3. The study of grammar will help form the mind by promoting “mental
discipline.”
7
FIGURE 2.1 References for and against the teaching of formal grammar.
deBeaugrande, R. (1984). Forward to the basics: Getting down to grammar.

College Composition and Communication, 35, 358-367.
d’Eloia, S. (1977). The uses—and limits—of grammar. Journal of Basic Writing, 1
(Spring/Summer), 1-20.
Fdartwell, P. (1985). Grammar, grammars, and the teaching of grammar. College
English, 47, 105-127.
Fdillocks, G., Jr. (1986). Grammar and the manipulation of syntax. In Research
on written composition (pp. 133-151). Urbana, IL: ERIC/RCS and NCRE.
Distributed by the National Council of Teachers of English.
Fdillocks, G., Jr., & Smith, M. W. (1991). Grammar and usage. In J. Flood, J. M.
Jensen, D. Lapp, & J. R. Squire (Eds.), Handbook of research on teaching the
English language arts (pp. 591-603). New York: Macmillan.
Kolln, M. (1986). Closing the books on alchemy. College Composition and
Communication, 32, 139-151.
McQuade, F. (1980). Examining a grammar course: The rationale and the result.
English Journal, 69, 26-30.
Sanborn, J. (1986). Grammar: Good wine before its time. English Journal, 75,
72-80.
Sedgwick, E. (1989). Alternatives to teaching formal, analytical grammar.
Journal of Developmental Education, 12 (3), 8-10, 12, 14, 20.
4- The study of grammar will help students score better on standardized

tests that include grammar, usage, and punctuation.
5. The study of grammar will help people master another language more
readily.
6. The study of grammar will help people master the socially prestigious
conventions of spoken and/or written usage.
7. The study of grammar will help people become better users of the
language, that is, more effective as listeners and speakers, and
especially as readers and writers.
One can hardly quarrel with the idea that language is intrinsically
interesting and worthy of study, except to point out that grammar books
rarely make it so, and that students are less likely to be interested in the
grammar of their language per se than in various appealing aspects of
language use, such as the language of advertising, the “double-speak” of
government, the language of sexism, and various ethnic and community
dialects. And the study of grammar can help students learn to work like
scientists, provided the teacher approaches it that way instead of the way
it is traditionally taught (see Postman and Weingartner, 1966).
8 WHY TEACH GRAMMAR?

But what of the other reasons for teaching grammar? They reflect the
assumption that studying grammar in itself, apart from reading and writing,
or speaking and listening, will automatically produce desirable effects such
as improved mental ability, higher scores on standardized tests, mastery of
another language or of socially prestigious grammatical forms, and greater
effectiveness as users of the language.
Logically, we need to consult the research evidence.
Early Research Summaries
As long ago as 1936, the Curriculum Commission of the National Council

of Teachers of English recommended that ‘“all teaching of grammar separate
from the manipulation of sentences be discontinued . . . since every scien¬
tific attempt to prove that knowledge of grammar is useful has failed . .
(as quoted in H. A. Greene, 1950, p. 392).
About fifteen years later, an article in the Encyclopedia of Educational
Research (1950) summarized the available research on the teaching of
grammar as a system and a subject, with the comment that these summary
statements were warranted by “the best opinion, practice, and experimental
evidence” (H. A. Greene, 1950, p. 393). The 1960 edition of the Encyclo¬
pedia of Educational Research includes similar summary statements (Searles
and Carlson, 1960, p. 461), so I have combined some of them here, indi¬
cating only the year of each statement as it is quoted or closely paraphrased:
1. “The disciplinary value which may be attributed to formal grammar is

negligible” (1950). That is, research does not support the contention
that the study of grammar brings about mental discipline (1960).
2. “No more relation exists between knowledge of grammar and the appli¬
cation of the knowledge in a functional language situation than exists
between any two totally different and unrelated school subjects” (1950).
In fact, one investigator found a higher correlation between achievement
in grammar and mathematics than between achievement in grammar
and composition or oral language abilities (1960).
3. “In spite of the fact that the contribution of the knowledge of English
grammar to achievement in foreign language has been its chief justifica¬
tion in the past, the experimental evidence does not support this con¬
clusion” (1950). It appears that “knowledge of grammar does not mate¬
rially affect a students ability to learn a foreign language” (1960).
Teaching Grammar 9
4. “The study of grammar has been justified because of its possible
contribution to reading skills, but the evidence does not support this
conclusion” (1950).
5. “The contribution of grammar to the formation of sentences in
speech and in writing has doubtless been exaggerated” (1950).
6. “Diagraming sentences does not carry over to expressional problems
[actual writing].” Indeed, “it teaches students nothing beyond the
ability to diagram” (1960).
In short, the research apparently gave no support to the idea that teaching
grammar would help students develop mental discipline, master another
language, or become better users of their native language. Indeed, further
evidence indicated that training in formal grammar did not transfer to any
significant extent to writing “correct” English or even to recognizing it.
In 1963, Richard Braddock, Richard Lloyd^Jones, and Lowell Schoer
wrote an NCTE report titled Research in Written Composition. For three
decades, scholars have been quoting the statement that concludes their
discussion of research on the teaching of grammar:
In view of the widespread agreement of research studies based upon many

types of students and teachers, the conclusion can be stated in strong and
unqualified terms: the teaching of formal grammar has a negligible or,
because it usually displaces some instruction and practice in actual corm
position, even a harmful effect on the improvement of writing, (pp. 37-38)
This bold statement seemed only a logical extension of DeBoer’s conclusion

from the available research four years before. DeBoer (1959) had written:
The impressive fact is . . . that in all these studies, carried out in places
and at times far removed from each other, often by highly experienced and
disinterested investigators, the results have been consistently negative so
far as the value of grammar in the improvement of language expression is
concerned. Surely there is no justification in the available evidence for
the great expenditure of timeând effort still being devoted to formal
grammar in American schools, (p. 417)
These strong indictments from the late 1950s and early 1960s clearly echo
the NCTE’s 1936 summary statement in its resolution against the teaching
of grammar: “every scientific attempt to prove that knowledge of grammar
is useful has failed.” Of course, this conclusion will be no surprise to teachers
who have observed that many students are unable or unwilling to analyze
and label the parts of sentences or to apply the grammatical “rules” they
have been taught.
10 EARLY RESEARCH SUMMARIES

Research on the Effects of Structural and Transformational
Grammar
The 1950s and early 1960s saw the rise of structural linguistics, which
attempted to describe languages more consistently, without recourse to
meaning or to previous grammars, and therefore more objectively and
“scientifically” than traditional grammarians had done. Structural linguists
based their grammatical descriptions on careful analysis of English as it was
actually spoken in their time, not on hand-me-down rules from Latin and
from English grammars of earlier centuries. Therefore, some investigators
hypothesized that a study of grammar from the viewpoint of structural
linguistics might prove more valuable to writers than a study of traditional
grammar, with its inconsistencies and unabashed use of meaning in deter¬
mining the functions of grammatical elements. George Hillocks’s 1986
review (with Michael W. Smith) of the research indicates, however, that
overall the research comparing the effects of teaching structural grammar
does not demonstrate that it is appreciably superior to the teaching of
traditional grammar, with regard to its effects on writing (Hillocks, 1986,
pp. 134-135).
The rise of transformational grammar in the 1960s and 1970s gener¬
ated a similar optimism regarding the practical value of studying grammar
through that approach. It emphasized how surface structures can be gener¬
ated from hypothesized deep, underlying structures, and how underlying
structures can be transformed into different stylistic variants. For instance,
The woman is tired might be derived linguistically from a deep structure like
“Something + tired + the + woman,” thus validating many native speak¬
ers’ sense that tired in the original sentence is a verb, though it functions
as an adjective in the surface sentence. Similarly, a deep structure like “A
+ new + surgeon + performed + the + operation” might surface as either
A new surgeon performed the operation or The operation was performed by a
new surgeon, thus demonstrating the relationship between stylistic variants
that mean essentially the same thing.
Bateman and Zidonis (1966) were perhaps the first researchers to
investigate the effect that studying transformational grammar might have
upon students’ writing. The experimental group that studied transforma¬
tional grammar during their ninth- and tenth-grade years wrote with a lower
incidence of errors than the control group that studied no grammar. The
transformational group also used more mature sentence structures (the kinds
Teaching Grammar 11
of structures that characterize older writers), though this difference was
largely due to four students (about a fifth of the experimental group) and
was not statistically significant.
In 1969, John Mellon reported a study in which he had hypothesized
that a knowledge of transformational grammar in combination with practice
in sentence combining would result in greater syntactic fluency in students’
writing. The students in five experimental classes were exposed to termb
nology and grammatical explanations reflective of transformational theory,
though actual practice in sentence combining seems to have been the major
focus of the experimental treatment. The students in five control classes
studied a course in traditional grammar. The two placebo classes that
studied no grammar at all had additional lessons in literature and compo¬
sition, but no additional writing assignments. During a one-year period, the
experimental group significantly increased its syntactic fluency on all twelve
of the factors analyzed. The control and placebo groups increased on only
three of the factors at the same level of significance. The absolute growth
in the experimental group was approximately double the growth in the
control and placebo groups (Mellon, 1969, p. v). However, there were no
appreciable differences in the overall quality of students’ writing (p. 69).
In the wake of Mellon’s study, Frank O’Hare (1973) reasoned that the
greater syntactic maturity of Mellon’s transformational group might have
been due to their practice in sentence combining alone, rather than to their
study of transformational grammar in conjunction with sentence combin¬
ing. Indeed, Mellon (1969) himself had written, “Clearly, it was the sen¬
tence-combining practice associated with the grammar study, not the gram¬
mar study itself, that influenced the syntactic fluency growth rate’’ (p. 74).
Thus O’Hare hypothesized that sentence combining by itself might
produce the same kinds of results, without the formal study of grammar or
the use of technical terminology. Using nontechnical terms to describe
different structures, O’Hare had his experimental group do sentence¬
combining exercises, while the control group studied no grammar but spent
more time in the regular language arts curriculum. The result? The sen¬
tence-combining group made significant gains over the control group, in
terms of syntactic maturity—which O’Hare (1973) defined as the range of
sentence types used (p. 19). In fact, his seventh-grade sentence combiners
wrote well beyond the syntactic maturity level typical of eighth graders,
and in many respects very similar to that of the twelfth graders in a study
by Kellogg Hunt (1965a), which had provided the benchmark data on
syntactic maturity at different grade levels, compared with that of adults.
Students in the experimental group also “wrote compositions that were
RESEARCH ON THE EFFECTS OF STRUCTURAL AND TRANSFORMATIONAL GRAMMAR

significantly better in overall quality than the control group’s compositions”
(O’Hare, 1973, pp. 67-68). Thus O’Hare’s research suggested that sentence¬
combining practice alone can enhance syntactic maturity and writing qual¬
ity, without grammatical terminology or the study of grammar.
A substantial number of studies have supported this conclusion. Hill¬
ocks (1986) reports:
These [sentence-combining] studies have led to a number of sentence

combining texts and a host of dissertations from 1973 to the present. The
overwhelming majority of these studies have been positive, with about 60
percent of them reporting that work in sentence combining, from as low
as grade 2 through the adult level, results in significant advances (at least
p < .05) on measures of syntactic maturity. Thirty percent of the reports
have recorded some improvement at a nonsignificant level or at a level
which was not tested for significance. Only 10 percent of the reports have
been negative, showing either no significant differences or mixed results.
(PP. 142-143)
In their summaries of research on the teaching of grammar, Hillocks

(1986) and Hillocks and Smith (1991) present a thorough review of the
relevant research since the early 1960s, including studies comparing the
effects of teaching traditional or structural or transformational grammar
with the effects of teaching no grammar, and studies comparing the effects
of teaching structural or transformational grammar with the effects of
teaching traditional grammar. After discussing these various studies, includ¬
ing the Elley study described in detail in a later section, Hillocks (1986)
concludes:
None of the studies reviewed for the present report provides any support
for teaching grammar as a means of improving composition skills. If schools
insist upon teaching the identification of parts of speech, the parsing or
diagramming of sentences, or other concepts of traditional grammar (as
many still do), they cannot defend it as a means of improving the quality
of writing, (p. 138)
Little research on the teaching of mechanics has been done, but the
available evidence does not offer much reason to be optimistic about
teaching grammar as an aid to avoiding or correcting errors, either (Hill¬
ocks, 1986, p. 139; and see Chapter 6 of the present book for a discussion
of Calkins, 1980, and DiStefano and Killion, 1984). In fact, as we shall see,
the three-year Elley study showed that the writing of students studying
transformational or traditional grammar was not significantly different from
the no-grammar group, even on the mechanics of writing. Thus Hillocks
Teaching Grammar 13
(1986) issues a strong indictment against the formal teaching of tradh
tional grammar: “School boards, administrators and teachers who impose
the systematic study of traditional school grammar on their students over
lengthy periods of time in the name of teaching writing do them a gross
disservice” (p. 248).
A Note on Functional Grammar
In Australia especially, the functional grammar of British linguists Halliday

and Hasan has gained increasing influence in the schools (Halliday, 1985;
Halliday and Hasan, 1976). Grammarians in this linguistic tradition claim
that functional grammar is more relevant to writing because it emphasizes
the functions or uses of grammatical constructions. Here are some ways in
which functional grammar differs from traditional grammar (Collerson,
1994, pp. 142-144):
• It is primarily concerned with how the language works to achieve

various purposes.
• It focuses first on larger grammatical components (clauses and
sentences) and their functions within texts, not on parts of
speech. Units at the clause and sentence level are considered
most important because of their relationship to rhetorical and
stylistic effectiveness.
• It is more concerned with effectiveness than with prescribing
adherence to “rules”—that is, to particular conventions of
language use.
As far as I know, research has not been conducted to determine the effects
on student writing of teaching functional grammar in isolation, as a system
for understanding the language. Indeed, the idea of teaching functional
grammar in isolation from writing and speaking would seem contrary to the
whole notion of focusing on the functional aspects of language structure.
A Dissenting Voice
In light of this overwhelming body of evidence, it may seem surprising that

there is any dissenting voice among scholars. But in 1981, before the Elley
study and before the Hillocks and Smith summaries, Martha Kolln wrote
14 A NOTE ON FUNCTIONAL GRAMMAR

an article critiquing some earlier research summaries, describing some other
relevant research, and articulating her own conviction—without offering
any research support—that it should be helpful for students in their writing
to bring their unconscious grammatical knowledge to conscious awareness,
through the study of the categories and structures and labels of grammar.
One significant contribution is her critique of the research underlying
the widely cited research summaries of Braddock, Lloyd'Jones, and Schoer
(1963) and of Dean Memering (1978). For example, she points out weak'
nesses in the design and implementation of some of the studies summarized
by Braddock et al.—weaknesses of which the authors apparently were aware
(Braddock, Lloyd'Jones, and Schoer, 1963, p. 37). And indeed, just precede
ing DeBoers (1959) decisive summary of the research, he had written that
“a close examination of some of the reports of investigations of the effec'
tiveness of grammar instruction might reveal flaws in research design or
conclusions not fully warranted by the evidence” (p. 417). Since Braddock,
Lloyd'Jones, and Schoer also noted weaknesses in methodology and inter'
pretation in the studies from which they generalized, one wonders why
these hints of flawed research studies did not inspire more scepticism about
their conclusions.
Kolln points out that in the same year as the Braddock report was
published (1963), Henry C. Meckel described in the Handbook of Research
on Teaching many of the same studies as Braddock and colleagues had done.
However, his conclusions were rather different. Meckel’s conclusions that
can be directly compared with those of Braddock et al. are as follows:
1. There is no research evidence that grammar as traditionally taught in

the schools has any appreciable effect on the improvement of writing
skill.
2. The training periods involved in transfer studies have been
comparatively short, and the amount of grammar instruction has
frequently been small.
3. There is no conclusive research evidence, however, that grammar has
no transfer value in developing composition skill.
4. More research is needed on the kind of grammatical knowledge that
may reasonably be expected to transfer to writing.
5. Research does not justify the conclusion that grammar should not be
taught systematically.
6. There are more efficient methods of securing immediate improvement
in the writing of pupils, both in sentence structure and usage, than
systematic grammatical instruction.
Teaching Grammar 15
The major points on which Meckel differs from Braddock et al. are items
4 and 5. He explains item 4 by indicating that research in which students
are led to apply the grammatical principles taught may produce more
positive results than research in which grammar is studied in and by itself.
Similarly, he explains item 5 by saying that the systematic teaching of
grammar does not preclude explicit attention also to the application of the
grammar taught. That is, the formal study of grammar does not have to be
the isolated or unapplied study of grammar.
Thus while Kolln points out that the research showing the ineffective^
ness of teaching grammar for improving writing is not completely valid, her
major contribution lies in pointing out that grammar study in conjunction
with explicit application may have more promise than grammar study alone
(her 1991 book Rhetorical Grammar reflects this conviction). However, it is
still by no means clear that “application” cannot be done just as effectively,
and a lot more efficiently, without detailed, explicit grammar study. Witness,
for example, O’Hare s (1973) research on sentence combining.
Three Studies in Detail
By far the most impressive research on the effects of grammar study is that
conducted by Elley, Barham, Lamb, and Wyllie (1976). Equally interesting,
however, are an earlier study by Macauley in Scotland (1947), who focused
on the degree to which grammar is actually learned, and a study undertaken
by a secondary school teacher, Finlay McQuade (1980), who focused on
the practical effects of grammar study. All of these studies were reported
before the publication of Kolln’s article.
The Study by Macauley (1947)

Macauley’s study—or rather, his series of studies—strongly suggests that
despite years of grammar study, students do not achieve much ability to
identify even the basic parts of speech as these function in sentences.
Macauley reports that grammar is (or was in the 1940s) extensively
taught in both the primary (elementary) and secondary schools of Scotland,
for an average of about thirty minutes a day at both levels. He further
explains:
Formal grammar has to begin at 7 Vi years of age with lessons on the noun,
singular and plural number, and the verb; at 8, is added the study of
16 THREE STUDIES IN DETAIL

adjectives; at 814, personal pronouns and the tenses of verbs; at 9, analysis
of simple sentences, conjugation of verbs, kinds of nouns and case of
nouns; at 9Vi, particular analysis, tenses of auxiliary verbs, adverbs; at 10,
adverb, preposition and conjunction, the relative pronoun, interchange of
phrases and clauses; and so on till in the top primary class at age 11 Vi to
12 the course to be covered includes complete revision of all the parts of
speech with declensions and conjugations, and written exercises involving
analysis and parsing of easy, simple, complex, and compound sentences.
(p. 153)
In short, the teaching of grammar in the elementary grades emphasizes parts

of speech and their functions.
With such extensive and intensive teaching of these aspects of granm
mar, one might assume that the grammar would be well learned. Not so,
according to Macauley s research.
A number of tests were used, similar to the one in Figure 2.2. This test
consists of fifty sentences in which the student is to indicate the part of
speech of the underlined word, given the choices of noun, pronoun, verb,
adjective, or adverb. The student needs to understand that the function of
a word determines the part of speech in a given context.
Macauley explains that given the method of scoring, students could
have gotten about 11 percent of the answers right simply by guessing.
Nevertheless, he and his scorers decided to use a 50 percent correct score
as a standard of success—not a very demanding standard, given the years
of intensive teaching of grammar. For all the test items, the average (mean)
score for the 131 students was an incredibly low 27.9 percent. The scores
ranged from 35.5 percent at one school to 21.8 percent at another (without
knowing Scottish geography, the reader cannot relate these scores to the
kind of school, whether city, town, or rural).
For each part of speech, there were ten items. For the five parts of
speech, the rate of successful identification was as shown in Figure 2.3. Out
of the 131 students, only one scored 50 percent or better on all five parts
of speech.
To corroborate or challenge these results, Macauley administered the
same test to a group of (average) students entering a junior secondary
school. The students were approximately the same age (twelve), but the
scores were even lower. Macauley explains that this is probably because the
best students had already been siphoned off to a senior secondary school.
Macauley went on to determine the results for students who had spent
two years in a junior secondary school, during which they continued to
receive instruction in grammar. Their scores did rise steadily from an overall
Teaching Grammar 17
FIGURE 2.2 Macauley’s grammar test (1947). Apparently Macauley expected students
to focus on how the word functions in the sentence. Since this expectation is not clear in
the directions, the lack of clarity must surely have affected the results.
INSTRUCTIONS: Here are fifty sentences. In each sentence, there is a word

underlined. On your answer sheet, you have to indicate what part of speech you think
the underlined word is. Do so by putting a ring round N or V or P or A or J, according
as you think the word is a Noun, Verb, Pronoun, Adverb, or Adjective.
1. His new cycle was stolen. 27. The tide was ebbing fast.
2. Pie cycled from the farm to the 28. The child was knocked over in
hostel. the rush.
3. You must visit us soon. 29. We watch the progress of our
4- Meet me here in an hour. team.
5. The daily paper peeped out of his 30. Those who can find the time,
pocket. should visit the exhibition.
6. The shopkeeper promised to send 31. I should like some to take home.
fresh milk daily. 32. You should post early in the day.
7. What have I done to deserve this? 33. Why did he do it?
8. A haircut lasts him a month. 34- The doctor visited his patients.
9. The cobbler put the boot on the 35. The fastest runner does not
last. always win.
10. Lightning was the last horse to 36. I suffer from nerves.
pass the post. 37. Which team do you support?
11. The steamer touched in at 38. I might have believed you earlier.
Rothesay. 39. I should like some fruit to take
12. Who stole my heart away? home.
13. He seems a nice, friendly dog. 40. What have I done to deserve
14. The dog watched his master this?
hopefully. 41. He used a stop watch to time the
15. Are you going to dance tonight? runners.
16. It was shortly after midnight. 42. Where shall we meet?
17. He looked very worried. 43. Have patience and I will pay
18. it never rains but it pours. thee all.
19. The letter was delivered by the 44. It is the early bird that gets the
first post. worm.
20. You must be patient with me. 45. Which team do you support?
21. My watch seems to be slow. 46. It was shortly after midnight.
22. Are you going to the dance. 47. It is not so long since we saw
to-night? them.
23. Give me my money and let me 48. I might have believed you earlier.
go- 49. He was well-known for his
24. The day will probably be cool. friendliness.
25. I will keep what is mine. 50. We hope to encourage the team
26. He was cooling off after the game. spirit.

FIGURE 2.3 Macauley’s results (1947).
PART OF MEAN SCORE PERCENT OF

SPEECH ON THOSE 5 ITEMS STUDENTS SCORING
50% OR BETTER
Noun 43.3 36.6
Verb 30.5 20.6
Pronoun 28.5 16.0
Adverb 19.8 3.8
Adjective 17.8 5.3
mean of 26.3 percent to a mean of 35.4 percent of items correct. Obviously,

however, few students achieved the minimally acceptable standard of 50
percent. Out of the 397 students, only four scored at least 50 percent on
all five parts of speech.
Finally, Macauley used the same test with students in a senior secondary
school for the academic elite, wherein there are nevertheless technical and
domestic tracks for “early leavers.” Despite continued intensive teaching of
grammar throughout three years of secondary school, Macauley found, there
was still relatively little improvement:
• No domestic or technical class scored above 40 percent on the

whole test.
• The only classes scoring 50 percent or above on all five parts of
speech were the two classes studying a foreign language.
• The overall mean for the top boys’ class and the top girls’ class
increased from 46.5 percent in the first year to 62 percent in the
third year.
• By the third year, when more than half the senior secondary
students had left school, still only 41-5 percent of all the
remaining students scored 50 percent or higher on the total test.
In trying to interpret the results, Macauley first hypothesized that the

students in the elementary grades did so poorly because “a certain stage of
mental maturity appears to be required for the understanding of grammath
cal function” (p. 159). However, the results for the students in junior and
senior secondary schools are not a lot more impressive.
On the one hand, we cannot consider Macauley’s results entirely reli¬
able, since his directions did not make it clear that students were to
determine the word’s part of speech by its function. Particularly troublesome
in this regard are the items where the underlined word is a pronoun in form
Teaching Grammar 19
but an adjective in function; however, the lack of clarity in the directions
could certainly have affected responses to some other items, too.
On the other hand, even assuming that students understood the parts
of speech somewhat better than their scores suggested, one can hardly
escape the conclusion that extensive and intensive teaching of grammar
may not be warranted—even if the mastery of grammar itself were our
primary or sole aim, rather than the learning of grammar for some other
purpose such as mental discipline, learning a second language, or the
improvement of writing.
The Study by Elley et al. (1976)

This three-year longitudinal study in New Zealand began when students
were in their third-Torm year, at age thirteen. The study involved 248
students in eight matched classes of average ability; one “bright” and three
“slow-learning” classes were deliberately excluded so as to make any ob¬
served differences more likely the result of the approach itself rather than
of the differences among students. To control for teacher differences, the
three teachers each taught each program to each class part of the time.
A transformational (TG) group studied the grammar, rhetoric, and
literature strands of the Oregon Curriculum (Kitzhaber, 1970). The trans¬
formational grammar strand focused on explaining the rules of grammar
that a native speaker naturally uses; the aim of the strand was simply to
teach students about the syntax of English, not to teach grammar for any
utilitarian purpose. The reading-writing course (RW) included the rhetoric
and literature strands of the Oregon Curriculum, but substituted extra
reading and creative writing (mostly reading) for the transformational
grammar strand. The third group studied from a Let’s Learn English (LLE)
program (Smart, 1969), wherein the grammar taught is largely traditional,
and more functional than the grammar taught in the Oregon Curriculum.
It also included many applications. The teachers consulted regularly in
order to maintain similar emphases in those aspects of the English curricu¬
lum that were not being compared.
Various language tests were used to ascertain any differences that might
arise from the differing approaches. These included (but were not limited
to) the PAT Reading Comprehension and Reading Vocabulary Tests (1969), a
test of sentence combining, and a test of English usage that required
students to correct “errors” in specially prepared short sentences and con¬
tinuous prose. At the end of each year of the study, all students wrote a set
of essays on various topics. Four essays were assessed for each student in the
first year of the study, with three essays being assessed in the two subsequent

years. The essays were assessed by carefully trained groups of English teach'
ers from nearby high schools.
During the first year of the study, none of the three programs showed
a significant superiority on any of the twelve variables assessed. The only
significant difference was in attitudes: the TG group liked writing less than
the other groups. Only one of the possible language test comparisons proved
significant the second year, though the two groups using the Oregon Cun
riculum showed significantly more positive attitudes toward literature and
toward explanatory and persuasive writing. However, the TG group found
English more difficult than the other groups, and claimed to read less than
they used to. However, none of these differences was dramatic.
At the end of the third year, both the TG and RW groups scored
significantly better than the LLE (traditional grammar) group on sentence'
combining exercises. On the English usage test, both grammar groups
produced means significantly higher than the reading'writing group. For the
TG group, the discrepancy was at least 10 percent on 16 of the 38 items;
the traditional grammar group showed a similar superiority over the read'
ing'writing group. However, “what slight superiority there was in the two
grammar groups was dispersed over a wide range of mechanical conventions,
and was not clearly associated with sentence structure” (Elley et ah, 1976,
p. 15).
On the essays, there were no significant differences among groups in
overall quality. In light of earlier studies of the effect on writing of studying
transformational grammar, the syntactic structures of the essays were ana'
lyzed in detail. However, only one difference proved significant out of a
possible 36 comparisons: the TG group did not use as many participles as
the other two groups. Thus “there is no support in these results for the
hypothesis that a special study of any kind of transformation increases the
propensity to use them” (p. 17).
The authors conclude that transformational grammar study has a neg'
ligible effect on the language growth of secondary school students, and that
traditional grammar also shows no measurable benefits. The slight advam
tage of the TG group in mastering some minor conventions of usage were
“more than offset by the less positive attitudes which they showed towards
their English studies” (p. 18). Nor were any significant differences found in
the School Certificate English results of the three groups, nor in a follow'Up
writing assessment a year later. The authors indicate, “It is difficult to escape
the conclusion that English grammar, whether traditional or transforma'
tional, has virtually no influence on the language growth of typical secon'
dary school students” (p. 18).
Teaching Grammar 21
The Study by McQuade (1980)
In contrast to the exceptionally detailed three-year study of Elley et al.,
Finlay McQuade’s study involved a more modest investigation of the effect
that his Editorial Skills class had on high school students.
Aware that research on the teaching of grammar did not support
teaching grammar on the grounds that it would improve writing, he nev¬
ertheless thought that the Editorial Skills course might enhance students’
performance on the College Entrance Examination Board’s Achievement
Test in Composition, since it included questions dealing with correctness
in grammar as well as punctuation, usage, and diction. Since the eleventh
and twelfth graders who took the Editorial Skills course chose it as an
elective, they were highly motivated to succeed.
The course itself reviewed parts of speech and basic sentence structure,
then dealt with application of such principles as “agreement, reference,
parallel construction, tense, case, subordination” to the task of finding errors
in sentences written expressly for that purpose. A similar approach was
taken to punctuation, diction, and—if time permitted—to spelling. Stu¬
dents completed dozens of exercises and five mastery tests; there were also
interim and final exams, each testing everything previously studied “and,
presumably, mastered.” The course was popular, with students signing up
for it semester after semester, claiming to have learned a lot, and insisting
that it helped on the SAT tests as well as on the CEEB’s Achievement Test
in Composition.
In short, everyone seemed happy with the course, until failures began
to appear. The English faculty developed tests to identify students below a
certain level of competence in reading, writing, mechanics, and vocabulary,
and some students who had passed the Editorial Skills class were assigned
to the mechanics competence course on the basis of that assessment. This
unexpected turn of events led McQuade to actually investigate the effects
of the Editorial Skills course, instead of merely assuming that it succeeded
in its aim because everyone seemed to think so.
Much to McQuade’s surprise and chagrin, the results of his investigation
did not bear out even the modest claim that the Editorial Skills test might
improve scores on the Achievement Test. Here is what he found:
• Overall, students showed as much gain on their Cooperative

English Tests in years that they hadn’t taken the Editorial Skills
class as in the year that they had (p. 28).
• The Editorial Skills class seems to have made no difference in

preparation for the CEEB Achievement Test: students who
hadn’t taken the course showed just as much difference between
the SAT and the later Achievement Test as students who had
taken the course (p. 29).
• The class average on the pre-test was actually higher than the
average on the post'test (p. 28).
• Though there were fewer errors per Tmnit (a grammatical
sentence) on the post-test essays (about half as many errors, in
fact), it turned out that most of this reduction in errors was a
reduction in relatively simple errors (mainly capitalization) by
just a few of the students (pp. 29-30).
• Furthermore, though “the essays in the first set are not
spectacular . . . the essays in the second set . . . are miserable.”
The students’ sentences were “awkwardly and I believe
self-consciously constructed to honor correctness above all other
virtues, including sense” (p. 29).
McQuade concludes, “No reduction of the number of errors could be

significant, I reasoned, when the post'course essays are inferior in every
other way to the pre'course essays” (p. 29).
In short, these three studies as well as numerous others during the twentieth
century indicate that there is little pragmatic justification for systematically
teaching a descriptive or explanatory grammar of the language, whether
that grammar be traditional, structural, transformational, or any other kind.
Why Teachers Continue to Teach Grammar
There are, of course, a number of reasons why teachers continue to teach

grammar despite the research demonstrating its lack of practical value.
Among such reasons are the following, some of which are articulated
especially well by d’Eloia (1981):
1. Unaware of the research, they may simply assume that “of course”
teaching grammar improves reading and writing—or at least the ability to
edit written work or to do better on standardized tests that include grammar,
usage, and punctuation. This assumption is sometimes promoted by articles
Teaching Grammar 23
in professional journals where authors may have a deep and often unexam'
ined commitment to a behaviorist concept of learning: that practice and
more practice equals learning, and that what is learned will automatically
be applied in appropriate situations.
2. They simply do not believe the research, but assume that the research
studies must be faulty: “If only the teachers in the research studies had
taught grammar the way I do, they would surely have been more successful.”
Or, if only the study had been designed differently, it would have demon'
strated the value of teaching grammar. The most common argument is that
surely formal grammar is valuable when applied to writing (e.g., Kolln,
1981). Those who make this argument seem not to consider that most
concepts useful to writing can be taught without recourse to the formal
study of grammar: in other words, it’s the guided application that is valuable,
not the formal study of grammar itself.
3. They believe that grammar is interesting in and of itself and teach it

primarily for that reason. Such teachers include those who make grammar
study a genuine inquiry and a process of discovery for their students.
4. They assume that what writers and readers need to know about grammar
in order to comprehend texts and to write effectively must be known
consciously. Typically these teachers have never thought about the fact that
babies and toddlers learn the basics of grammar before entering school, and
without direct instruction. Nor have they thought about the fact that most
published creative writers seem to have little conscious understanding of
grammar as a system.
5. They are aware that some students who are good readers and writers also
find grammar study easy. This correlation encourages faulty cause-effect rea¬
soning: students can read/write well because they know grammar; therefore,
teaching grammar will make students better readers and writers.
6. They teach grammar because it’s easier to assign exercises and grade them
according to the answer key (or have a student grade them) than to lead
students through the process of producing effective pieces of writing.
7. They believe that grammar study at least does no harm. Therefore, they
feel justified in taking the easy way out and teaching grammar according
to the book.
8. They are required by their school or school system to teach grammar,

and they may have neither the energy to try to change the system nor the
24 WHY TEACHERS CONTINUE TO TEACH GRAMMAR

knowledge to teach selected aspects of grammar in less traditional and
possibly more effective ways. They may simply not know what else to do
to help students with the grammanrelated aspects of their writing. Or, they
may not be confident enough in their own knowledge of grammar to feel
comfortable abandoning the grammar book and answer key.
9. They fear that if they don’t teach grammar, students might miss out
on something for which they—both teachers and students—will be held
accountable. This fear may make them feel guilty at the mere thought of
not teaching grammar formally and systematically.
10. They bow to pressure from parents and other community members who
are unaware of the research but naively think that teaching grammar will
improve their children’s use of English. Clearly the idea that grammar is
good for a person has become a hallowed part of our cultural mythology, a
legacy from the Middle Ages, when the study of grammar was considered
vital for disciplining the mind and soul.
11. They believe that the research is valid in general, or for groups of
students “on the average,’’ but are still convinced that the writing of
some students will benefit from the explicit study of grammar. Perhaps
they remember learning ways of varying and manipulating sentence ele^
ments through their own study of grammar in school. They may remember
learning the conventions of punctuation and grammar through formal study
and realize that they themselves were able to apply, in their own writing,
the more practical aspects of what they were taught. Often, therefore,
teachers think, “Grammar helped me, so it’s bound to help some of my
students, too.” They are willing to teach grammar to entire classes for the
benefit of at least a few students.
12. They believe that grammar is valuable when it is applied to writing,

and perhaps are not aware of—or do not believe—the research demonstrate
ing that grammatical concepts can be applied without formal study of
grammar as a system.
In most of these instances, what teachers may not have fully considered or
understood is the point just mentioned: that students can learn and apply
many grammatical concepts without learning to analyze and label the parts
of speech and various other grammatical constructions. While this recog'
nition does not solve all our problems in teaching grammar, it can certainly
be a starting point for experimenting with other approaches to teaching
those aspects of grammar that are most relevant to writing.
Teaching Grammar 25
Toward Other Alternatives
There are, then, many reasons why teachers continue to teach formal
grammar as a system. However, teachers and administrators knowledgeable
about the previously discussed research should find that research difficult
to ignore. Despite concerns about methodology, implementation, and in¬
terpretation in some of the studies, a preponderance of the evidence points
in one direction. Especially impressive is the scrupulously rigorous three-
year study by Elley et al.; indeed, even the study by Finlay McQuade is
impressive, given the various kinds of data he examined. Overall, it is
difficult to escape the conclusion that teaching formal, isolated grammar to average
or heterogenous classes, perhaps even to highly motivated students in elective
classes, makes no appreciable difference in their ability to write, to edit, or to
score better on standardized tests. Departures from such results seem to be the
exception rather than the rule.
What, then, are teachers to do? The following are some specific sugges¬
tions, most of which will receive further consideration in following chapters.
1. Restrict the teaching of grammar as a system to elective classes and units,

offered with no pragmatic justification as an incentive, but only for the
pleasure and challenge of studying the language. Emphasize inquiry and
discovery more than, or rather than, mastery of all the major elements,
functions, and constructions of the grammar (Postman and Weingartner,
1966).
2. Promote the acquisition and use of grammatical constructions through

reading, and even by reading to students various works that are more
sophisticated in grammatical structures than the writing that most of the
students do (see Chapter 3).
3. When explaining various aspects of grammar, usage, and punctuation to

help students with their writing, minimize the use of grammatical termi¬
nology and maximize the use of examples. Teach the minimal terminology
primarily by using it in a functional context and through brief lessons as
necessary, rather than through memorization of definitions and the analysis
of sentences (see Chapters 4-6).
4- Emphasize the production of effective sentences rather than their analysis

(see Chapter 5 and several lessons in the Appendix).
26 TOWARD OTHER ALTERNATIVES

5. Teach not only “correct” punctuation, according to the handbooks,
but effective punctuation, perhaps based upon classroom examination of
published texts (see several lessons in the Appendix).
6. Lead students in discussing and investigating questions of usage, not in

doing usage exercises from a grammar book. Similarly, lead students in
exploring the power of dialects through literature and film. Contrast the
grammatical constructions of different ethnic and community dialects with
each other and with the Language of Wider Communication (so-called
standard English), and consider the different effects that differing dialects
have in different circumstances in the real world (see several lessons in the
Appendix).
7. Engage non-native speakers of English in using the language as best they

can, knowing that social interaction, reading, and writing to share ideas
will promote the functional acquisition of English more than will gram¬
matical study (see Chapter 3).
Of course, these suggestions do not exhaust the possibilities for language

study in the classroom; they merely include several that focus on grammar
and its relationship to conventions and choices in usage and punctuation,
felicity and appropriateness in sentence structure and style, the power of
dialects and dialects of power, the acquisition of grammatical constructions,
and the potential excitement and challenge of investigating selected aspects
of the grammatical system. Notice that none of these suggestions requires
studying grammar as an interlocking system of elements, structures, and
rules; even elective classes for the study of grammar can focus on selected
aspects that are especially intriguing, if the students and teacher so desire.
Much of our time-honored grammar study has been undertaken in the
name of improving writing, but “maximizing the benefits of grammar in¬
struction requires teaching less, not more, grammar” (Noguchi, 1991,
p. 16). This is true in part because the teaching of grammar is thereby more
focused, but also because less grammar instruction means more time for
writing itself, including the revision and editing phases wherein assistance
with specific aspects of grammar becomes particularly valuable. Noguchi
(1991) explains in his final summary:
Less time spent on formal grammar instruction will mean more time to
spend on the frequent and most serious kinds of stylistic problems [includ¬
ing mechanics], more time to examine the various social uses and users of
English, and more time to explore the power, the responsibilities, and the
social ramifications accompanying the written word. It will also mean more
Teaching Grammar 27
time ... to teach and engage students in the writing process, and, of
course, more time for actual writing. Less formal instruction in grammar
will, furthermore, mean more time for students to find out how language
makes them uniquely human, how language not only divides human beings
but also unites them. In general, less formal instruction in grammar will
mean more time to develop in students a healthy awareness and apprecia-
tion of language and its uses, not just of limits but also of possibilities.
(p. 121)
We should ponder, consider or reconsider the experimental research evi¬

dence, and rethink the what, why, and how of our teaching of grammar.
“In the end,” Noguchi says, “less is more.”
It is time we tried teaching less grammar in the name of good writing,
and undertook more research to determine the effectiveness of that general
strategy. Toward these goals, I have included some of my own teaching
experiments in the Appendix. Other teachers will describe their experi¬
ments, too, in the forthcoming companion volume.
28 TOWARD OTHER ALTERNATIVES

3
Acquiring Grammatical
Competence
This chapter focuses on how speakers acquire grammatical competence

in their native language, with some attention to how grammatical compe^
tence can be acquired in another language as well. We focus on the
acquisition of oral language in this chapter, leaving written language to
Chapter 5.
Since the more recent and insightful analyses of language acquisition
have drawn upon modern linguistics, we first introduce some principles,
concepts, and terminology based upon transformational linguistics and its
immediate predecessor, structural linguistics.
Linguistic Tools for Understanding and Analysis
The beginnings of structural linguistics are often traced to Leonard Bloonv

field’s landmark work Language, published in 1933. But it was not until the
1950s that structural linguistics began to attract the attention of teachers,
with such texts as Charles Fries’s The Structure of English (1952), Paul
Roberts’ Patterns of English (1956), W. Nelson Francis’s The Structure of
American English (1958), and James Sledd’s A Short Introduction to English
Grammar (1959).
In sharp contrast to traditional school grammarians and their grarm
mars, the structuralists were determined to base their grammars on an
analysis of the structures of a language as actually spoken by native speakers.
They focused on oral language—that is, on actual language use, or perform-
29
FIGURE 3.1 Example of structuralists’ Immediate Constituent Analysis (adapted from Francis, 1958).
SUBJECT NOMINAL PREDICATE
NOUN PHRASE VERB PHRASE PREPOSITIONAL PHRASE

NOUN PHRASE
the operation performed by surgeon

adjective noun
determiner noun auxiliary main verb preposition determiner
ance. And in so doing, they also focused on what we later came to call
surface structure. In analyzing the surface structure of a sentence, they
typically used Immediate Constituent Analysis, or ICA (Francis, 1958).
That is, they analyzed sentences into increasingly smaller constituents.
Figure 3.1 offers an example, based on the procedures of W. Nelson Francis
(1958).
The person who introduced a distinction between surface structure and
deep structure was the linguist Noam Chomsky, the originator of transform
mationabgenerative linguistics, or transformational linguistics for short (see
Chomsky, 1957, 1965, 1968a; and early popularizations of transformational
grammar by Thomas, 1965, and Malmstrom and Weaver, 1973). In his
Syntactic Structures (1957), Chomsky suggested that what a grammar really
ought to do is account for native speakers’ intuitive understanding of
language structure. That is, a grammar ought to explain the unconscious
but functional knowledge of grammar that enables all of us to comprehend
and produce language, rather than analyze the language actually produced.
In other words, Chomsky was interested in accounting for native speakers’
language competence.
It was his attempt to account for speakers’ intuitive knowledge of
grammar that led Chomsky to distinguish between deep structure and
surface structure. Take, for instance, the following sentences:
The operation was performed by a new surgeon.

The operation was performed by a new technique.
On the surface, these sentences have the same structure: noun phrase,
verb phrase, prepositional phrase. Nevertheless, our intuitive sense of the
deep structure tells us that the superficially parallel phrases by a new sur¬
geon and by a new technique work differently in their respective sentences.
30 LINGUISTIC TOOLS FOR UNDERSTANDING AND ANALYSIS

In the first sentence, a new surgeon is the deep or underlying subject of
performed: a new surgeon performed the operation. But in the second
sentence, we know that a new technique cannot perform an operation and
that technique therefore cannot be the deep or underlying subject of per¬
formed.
Chomsky thought of deep structure as being grammatical in nature, but
such examples as this suggested to other linguists that deep structure was
even deeper: that it involved meaning or semantics, rather than just struc¬
ture or syntax. Thus other linguists developed the concept of propositions
(e.g., Fillmore, 1968). A proposition expresses a state or action and the
entities involved in that state or action. Thus in propositional terms, a
simplified deep structure of the two example sentences might be as follows,
with the terms in square brackets indicating the semantic relationships
between each entity and the verb:
SENTENCE PROPOSITION
The operation was performed by Perform (surgeon, operation)
new surgeon. [agent, object]
The operation was performed by Perform (someone, technique)
new technique. [agent, means]
Notice that, as Chomsky had noted, the agent or doer of an action does
not necessarily occur in subject position within a sentence. It’s the subject
in A new surgeon performed the operation, but it’s the object of the preposition
by in The operation was performed by a new surgeon.
An article of Chomsky’s, “Language and the Mind” (1968b), provides
an introduction to the philosophical differences between structural and
transformational linguistics, as well as to what Chomsky thought a linguistic
grammar should do (see also Katz, 1964, and Eiillocks and Smith, 1991).
Part of what interested Chomsky was the fact that the same deep
structure could have more than one surface structure. Because deep struc¬
tures were not to be thought of as actual sentences but only as elements
and structures underlying them, Chomsky chose to depict deep structure
words and other elements as joined by plus symbols. Fie called the basic
structures of the language kernel structures and showed how more complex
sentences could be derived from underlying kernels, with a single set of
deep structures often generating more than one surface structure. Take, for
example, the following deep structure kernels, which can be combined in
more than one way in the surface structure:
Acquiring Grammatical Competence 31

DEEP STRUCTURE KERNEL SURFACE SENTENCE
a + new + surgeon + performed A new surgeon performed the operation
+ the + operation that my uncle had.
my + uncle + had + the + A new surgeon performed the operation
operation my uncle had.
A new surgeon performed my uncle’s
operation.
The operation that my uncle had was
performed by a new surgeon.
The operation my uncle had was
performed by a new surgeon.
My uncle’s operation was performed by a
new surgeon.
Let us recapitulate, then, some of the concepts and terms that are often
used in grammatical descriptions and in the research on the acquisition of
grammar, while also adding some new terms or explanations. In some
instances, these definitions reflect my attempt to clarify through simplifica-
tion.
surface structure The linear sequence of words, phrases, clauses, and

sentences, as they are uttered or written.
One important measure of surface structure is what is commonly called
a minimum terminable unit, or T-unit, after the research of Kellogg Hunt
(1965a). A T-unit consists of an independent clause plus the dependent
clause(s) or phrase(s) (if any) that are attached to it or embedded within
it. In this book, a gi'ammatical sentence is the same as a T-unit. However, a
T-unit (grammatical sentence) is not necessarily the same as a punctuated
sentence, which consists of whatever occurs between the initial capital letter
and the end punctuation (period, question mark, exclamation point). In
fact, a punctuated sentence may consist of one T-unit, more than one
T-unit, or less than a T-unit; in the last instance, the punctuated sentence
would be called a fragment, or a minor sentence (Kline and Memering,
1977). The possible relationships between grammatical sentences (T-units)
and punctuated sentences are further clarified in Chapter 5, where these
terms become more important (p. 125). See also the Glossary’s entries for
T-unit and punctuated sentence.
deep structure One or more basic, or kernel, structures that underlie

the structure of actual spoken or written sentences, according to transfor¬
mational grammar. Often, there is no one-to-one correspondence between
deep (kernel) structures, on the one hand, and grammatical or punctuated
32 LINGUISTIC TOOLS FOR UNDERSTANDING AND ANALYSIS

FIGURE 3.2 Surface and deep(er) structures.
Surface structures The operation was performed by a new surgeon.

or
A new surgeon performed the operation.
The deep structure is modified by transformations to produce
either surface structure.
Deep structure A + surgeon + performed + the + operation
The + surgeon + was + new
Semantic relationships in the deeper structure underlie the deep
structure.
Deeper structure Perform [agent, object] + New [agent, attribution]
(propositions)
sentences, on the other hand. The deep structure of a sentence is what we

understand about structural relationships among the words, even when
these relationships are not clearly signaled by the surface structure.
propositions These are what we might call deeper structures: the semam
tic relationships among the words in a kernel structure and the meaningful
elements that signal those relationships.
The surface structure of sentences, the linear order of words, phrases, and
clauses, is something like the tip of an iceberg: the part we actually see or
hear. The deep and deeper structure is like the submerged part: the part we
do not see. Figure 3.2 is an attempt to represent, in nontechnical terms,
the relationships between two alternative surface structures and their un¬
derlying deep and deeper structure. As we shall see in Chapter 5, a major
hallmark of increasing grammatical competence is the ability to incorporate
more deep(er) structures into a single T-unit, or grammatical sentence.
Grammatical Competence and Its Acquisition
Before they even enter school, children have acquired a complex set of
grammatical structures and a complex set of rules for combining elements
into such structures. To gain an appreciation for the elegance and subtlety
of the grammatical system that is internalized, it often helps to try to
verbalize some of the rules that we all use quite unconsciously in our

speaking and writing. Therefore, without making any claim as to exactly
when such knowledge is acquired, I invite you to try to formulate rules, or
generalizations, that account for the following phenomena.
Invitation 1
Part of what native speakers have learned about English is the proper order
of any auxiliary (“helper”) verbs that may come before a main verb (when
the sentence is “active,” not “passive”). Below is a list of the major kinds
of auxiliary verbs, followed by some sample combinations. In addition to
examining these, you might try other combinations of your own to see what
sounds grammatical and what doesn’t. Then try to formulate the basic rule
that governs the ordering of auxiliaries. In what order must these three
major kinds of auxiliaries occur?
• Modal auxiliaries: will, can, shall, may, must (“present tense”

forms); would, could, should, might (“past tense” forms)
• HAVE verb: have and has (present tense); had (past tense and
past participle); having (present participle)
• BE verb: am, is, are (present tense); was, were (past tense); being
(present participle); been (past participle)
In the following example sentences, the main verb and all preceding
auxiliaries are italicized:
Sharon is leaving at noon today.

She has left instructions.
Jerry will be taking over her job. [Take over seems to function as a
two-word or phrasal verb.]
He must try to figure out what to do.
Carla might have written that memo.
Sharon must have been eating ketchup on her hot dog.
Invitation 2
Something else native speakers have learned about English is when any (or
anyone, anything, etc.) is required in a sentence, when some (or someone,
something, etc.) is required, and when either word may be used. Supply the
appropriate choice or choices in each blank, without taking time to agonize
over which response seems natural. Then consider: how might we formulate
the rule that apparently governs our use of any and some and their com¬
pound forms?
34 GRAMMATICAL COMPETENCE AND ITS ACQUISITION

I don’t want-dessert. I’d like-ice cream, please.
The weather forecaster doubts that We’re supposed to have-rain
we’ll have-rain today. today.
He’ll never agree to-kind of I’d appreciate it if-one could
settlement. help.
We don’t have-thing to She might agree to-kind of
worry about. settlement.
I can’t imagine-one doing I just thought of-thing else.
that.
I can’t think of-thing else, Does-one have another
can you? question?
Is there-thing else you need?
I wonder if she’d like-new
magazines.
Let’s ask whether they have-
candy.
Discussion of Invitations 1 and 2

Regarding the major kinds of auxiliaries, we might adopt a simplification
of the transformationalists’ concise rule:
Aux (Modal) (HAVE) (BE)
What this says is that an auxiliary consists of an optional modal, followed
by an optional form of HAVE, followed by an optional form of BE. That
is, we don’t have to use an auxiliary at all: it is entirely optional. But if we
have more than one of them, they have to occur in this order (unless the
sentence is passive). The examples also demonstrate other interesting rules
about the structure of verb phrases, as long as the sentence is active rather
than passive. Namely, a HAVE auxiliary is always followed by a past
participle form, and a BE auxiliary is always followed by a verb in the
present participle form. Transformationalists captured these insights in a
slightly more complex rule, Aux —> (M) (HAVE + EN) (BE + ING). The
EN means that the following word will be in the past participle form;
likewise, the ING means that the following word will be in the present
participle form. A sentence with all these elements is Sharon must have
been eating ketchup on her hot dog.
This one rule covers a complex variety of examples. But how did we
learn to use it? Clearly not through direct instruction: most parents and,
for that matter, most teachers, don’t know this rule. But we do not have to
know it consciously. This is part of what we unconsciously learn as we
acquire the grammatical structure of English. (See the Appendix for a
sample lesson that elicits this structure, and for the additional point that
the first word in a verb phrase carries the tense marker.)
In Invitation 2, what we find is that sentences with a negative element

in them seem to require any rather than some; most native speakers will
agree that this rule accounts for all or most of the sentences in the left-hand
column. The first five in the second column imply certainty and seem to
require some. The last four in that column suggest uncertainty and seem to
take either any or some. This is an example of the kinds of insights that
transformationalists have captured in their descriptive “rules.” This particm
lar concept comes from William Rutherfords Sentence Sense (1973), a text
designed to lead students to discover some of these insights for themselves.
We don’t know, of course, how young children acquire such “rules.”
What we do know is that such rules are not directly taught to children,
and that children show evidence of beginning to acquire them by about
the age of two or three, when they typically begin using auxiliary verbs and
modifiers like any and some.
In one experimental study, for instance, three-yeanolds were shown
pictures of a tool, a substance, and an action. When asked which one was
“a sib,” they typically chose the tool. When asked which was “some sib,”
they typically chose the substance. When asked which one showed “sib'
bing,” they typically chose the action (Brown, 1957, as cited in De Villiers
and De Villiers, 1979). The children’s incipient understanding of this use
of some must surely be one of the prerequisites to their coming to understand
subtle distinctions in the use of some and any.
Invitations 3 and 4 are designed to inspire insight not only into the
nature of the structure that is acquired, but into the process of language
acquisition and how linguists have come to understand it.
Invitation 3
This invitation involves a phenomenon that is not strictly grammatical: it
involves an intersection of the sound, or phonological, system with the
grammatical system. Specifically, it involves the pronunciation of the regm
lar past tense ending. Consider what sound(s) we add in making the
following regular verbs past tense. What seems to determine which sound
or sounds we add? Try to determine one or more rules to account for our
automatic choices.
stop stab slam play wait

lick plug sin tee wade
laugh love clang sigh
unearth writhe slow
kiss fizz cue
wish try
lurch judge

Invitation 4
Often by the age of four, young children have developed several increasingly
sophisticated rules for making sentences negative. For each group of sen¬
tences, try to decide what that rule must be.
a. No money. b. That no Mommy. This not ice cream.

No a boy bed. He no bite you. They not hot.
No fall! There no squirrels. Paul not tired.
No singing song. I no want envelope. I not crying.
No the sun shining. I no taste them. He not taking the
No sit there. That no fish school. walls down.
c. I didn’t did it. d. I don’t sit on Cromer coffee.

You didn’t caught me. I don’t want it.
I didn’t caught it. I don’t like him.
I don’t know his name.
These examples are from Klima and Bellugi-Klima (1966, pp. 192-196),
with the stages simplified somewhat for the sake of the adults trying to
determine the rules that characterize each set.
Discussion of Invitations 3 and 4

Like the rule that accounts for the ordering of auxiliary verbs, the rule that
accounts for the regular past tense endings is elegant and simple. To make
a regular verb past tense, we add a /1 / sound if the verb ends in an unvoiced
consonant (one with the vocal cords not vibrating), and we add a / d /
sound if the verb ends in a voiced sound, whether consonant or vowel;
however, if the verb ends in a / t / or a / d / sound, we add a schwa-like
vowel, plus / d /. How do children learn this rule? Again, it certainly isn’t
by direct teaching! Nevertheless, children give evidence of learning this as
a rule around the age of two or three.
The way we know children are learning this rule is by observing what
they do with the past tenses of irregular verbs—the ones that don’t follow
the rule. Initially, they seem to imitate adult forms: they may say “went” or
“bought,” for example. But as they learn the regular rule for past tense
(around age two or three), they begin saying “goed” and “buyed” (or, less
often, “wented” and “boughted”). Indeed, this is how we know they have
learned the rule for making verbs past tense, and not just a lot of separate
past tense forms. The same thing happens with irregular plurals: children
will at first say “men” and “feet,” then switch to “mans” and “foots” (usually)
when they have learned the rule for making regular nouns plural. Before

long, in each case, the children learn the irregular forms of the adult
language community in which they are immersed. Unconsciously, perhaps,
they learn these forms as exceptions to the regular rules they have uncom
sciously learned.
Rules to account for the negative sentences in Invitation 4 can be
formulated as follows, for the groups (a)-(d):
a. Put no or not at the beginning of the entire utterance.

b. Put no or not between the subject and predicate parts of the sentence.
c. When the verb does not already have an auxiliary verb, add the
appropriate present or past tense form of do to carry the negative n’t,
and put this before the main verb. (This is described in
transformational terms as changing an underlying positive kernel
structure to a negative surface structure.)
d. Add the appropriate present or past form of do to carry the negative
marker and simultaneously remove the tense marker associated with
the main verb. (Again, this is explained as a transformation from a
positive deep structure to a negative surface structure.)
If these rules sound complicated, that’s part of the point: that the child
develops an increasingly sophisticated set of rules for making sentences
negative, all without direct instruction or intervention from adults. (Indeed,
when adults try to hasten the process, they typically do not succeed.)
Taken together, these four invitations and the discussion of them should
make clear several points:
• The grammatical system children learn is complex and abstract;

it can be captured in sometimes elegant rules, but these are not
rules that adults typically know or could teach.
• Children develop increasingly sophisticated hypotheses about the
structure of their language—hypotheses that can be expressed in
the form of rules that explain their grammatical competence and
are responsible for their actual language performance.
• Errors are necessary concomitants of growth in language
acquisition.
• Children acquire the grammar of their language without direct
instruction.
The next section elaborates on these critical observations about language

acquisition, specifically the acquisition of grammatical competence.

The Process of Language Acquisition
Of course, we don’t really know how children acquire grammatical compe¬

tence in their native language. We can only extract the patterns from
recorded utterances and formulate rules that would account for those utter¬
ances, consider what the environment contributes to language acquisition,
and speculate about the contributions that are made by the human mind.
Other methods of investigation are used too (Ingram, 1989), but no inves¬
tigative method can actually get inside the learner’s mind.
The first evidence of children’s beginning to learn grammar comes when
they begin to put two words together to form sentences, that is, utterances
that have the intonation patterns of a sentence. Such utterances can be
called meaning units or M-wnits (McCaig, 1972), since they express basic
elements of propositions. Examples of some of the earliest kinds of semantic
relationships, taken from various published sources, are illustrated in Figure
3.3. These examples are labeled with terms common in language acquisition
studies rather than with strict propositional notations. Notice that in the
examples of nonexistence (De Villiers and De Villiers, 1979), “all gone”
and “no more” may function as single words. These examples do not
illustrate all of the semantic relationships evident in children’s two-word
sentences, but they illustrate most of them.
Several interesting observations can be made regarding such early ut¬
terances:
1. They express a variety of semantic relationships.

2. At first, only two words of a proposition can be uttered at a time. So,
for instance, if a child wanted to convey the proposition that “Daddy
is moving the TV,” she might say “Daddy move” (agent/action),
“Move TV” (action/object), “Daddy TV” (agent/object), or perhaps
two of these in sequence: “Daddy move, move TV.” But the child just
beginning to put two words together in M-units would not yet be
able to put three words together in a single utterance (R. W. Brown,
1973). This, indeed, seems to be a universal fact of language
acquisition: no matter what language is being acquired, children
typically go through a stage wherein they can put two words together
to form a sentence, but not three or more (Slobin, 1972).
3. These two-word sentences do not include grammatical markers, such

FIGURE 3.3 Semantic relationships in early utterances.
AGENT/ACTION ACTION/OBJECT AGENT/OBJECT

Mommy read. Hit ball. Snoopy bone, [watching
Sarah write. Pick flower. Snoopy bury it]
I sit. Push cat. Daddy TV. [watching
Doggie bite. Eat cookie. Daddy move the TV]
ATTRIBUTION POSSESSION NOMINATION (LABELING)

Big dog. Mommy sock, [holding That car.
Dirty pillow. up her sock] That baby.
Spoon sticky. My ball. Here baby.
Ursula nose, [putting a
finger on her nose]
RECURRENCE ENTITY/LOCATION ACTION/LOCATION

’Nother cookie. Cookie here. Sit chair.
More milk. Sweater chair. Play outside.
Tickle again. Mouse cup. Walk street.
NONEXISTENCE REJECTION DENIAL

No money. No wash, [to mean No wet. [meaning “I am
Beads all gone. “Don’t wash me”] not wet”]
No more soup.
as plural or past tense endings, or function words like a/an or the; and
or but; with or to or in. Emergent speakers first use nouns, then add
verbs, adjectives, and adverbs in creating two word sentences.
4- The grammar of such utterances, then, consists entirely of word order.
Such word order follows the word order of adult utterances. Note, for
instance, that an adult model for “Big dog” might be “It’s a big dog,”
while an adult model for “Spoon sticky” might be “The spoon is
sticky.” In other words, adult language includes instances in which an
adjective precedes a noun, but also instances in which the adjective
follows the noun and a linking verb. Thus the differing patterns
confirm rather than contradict the generalization that childrens early
utterances follow the word order of adult utterances.
Representing More of the Surface Structure

Gradually a child becomes able to produce longer and more complex
utterances, making the propositions and deep structure more and more
explicit in the surface structure. Let us take, as an example, a child who
has been wrongly accused of having eaten the last cookie in the cookie jar
40 THE PROCESS OF LANGUAGE ACQUISITION

(Weaver, 1979). The father, poor suspicious soul, has just accusingly asked
his daughter Sally, “Did you eat the cookie?” The child might merely shake
her head from side to side or say “no” to express the proposition False (Eat
[Sally, cookie]), that is, “It is false that Sally ate the cookie.” However, if
she is about two years old (give or take a little), she might say “no eat” or
“no cookie” or “Sally no,” using sentences of no more than two words. As
the child grows in language acquisition, she will be able to express more
and more of the underlying deep structure in the surface structure of her
reply. One might predict the following sequence of increasingly mature
surface structures (with other alternatives being possible, but perhaps less
likely):
UTTERANCE INCREASING COMPLEXITY

“No.” (Obviously this answer is One morpheme. (The child is able to
common at any age because, in express just one morpheme per
context, it is adequate to express utterance—just one minimal unit
the underlying proposition.) of meaning.)
“No eat. No cookie.” (The child may Two morphemes, or a sequence of
produce either utterance or both two two-morpheme utterances.
in sequence, with an intonation
break between.)
“No eat cookie. Me no eat.” (Either, Three morphemes, or a sequence of
or both in sequence.) two three-morpheme utterances.
“Me no ate cookie.” Four morphemes. (At this point,
“ate” may still be a single
morpheme for the child, not a
combination of “eat” + past tense.)
“Me no ate the cookie.” Five morphemes. (The definite article
“the” is added.)
“Me didn’t ate the cookie.” Six morphemes, assuming that both
“did” and “ate” are still
one-morpheme units for the child.
“Me didn’t eat the cookie.” Seven morphemes. (The tense
marker is removed from the main
verb, indicating that past is now a
separate morpheme.)
“I didn’t eat the cookie.” Seven morphemes. (The pronoun is
in the subject form.)
This hypothetical sequence is based partly on my own observations but

mainly on inferences from Klima and Bellugi-Klima (1966), Dale (1976,
p. 107), Cazden (1972, p. 54), and R. W. Brown (1973, p. 274)* The details
of increasingly complex surface structure may not be entirely correct for
any individual child (in particular, the use of I is likely to be acquired

earlier). Nevertheless, the general pattern of development seems universal.
As their linguistic abilities mature, young children seem to go through at
least the following overlapping stages or phases in learning to make their
utterances conform to adult norms:
1. They express more and more of the nouns or “arguments” that are
involved in a proposition. For example, once the child can utter
three-word sentences, she can express both the agent (using the
pronoun me) and the object (cookie), while still specifying the action,
eat.
2. They express more and more of the grammatical markers, beginning
with those that are the least complex but convey the most important
meanings. For instance, the progressive -ing on verbs, the plural -s on
nouns, and the prepositions in and on are among the first grammatical
markers to appear. The articles a and the appear noticeably later,
while the verb third person singular (as in “It looks funny”) usually
appears still later (R. W. Brown, 1973; De Villiers and De Villiers,
1973). It is logical that the third person singular should be a
relatively late acquisition, since word order alone will make the
meaning clear.
3. As children are beginning to express more and more of the
grammatical markers, they are also beginning to combine
propositions. For example, Sally might say “Me no ate Daddy cookie”
if she thought the cookie belonged to her father. One underlying
proposition is that Sally did not eat the cookie, and another is that
the cookie belonged to Daddy.
4. They make requisite alterations in the surface structure. For instance,
didn't ate becomes didn’t eat, and the pronoun I replaces me or my in
subject position.
As this discussion indicates, the first aspect of grammar to emerge is an

incipient command of word order, which can be seen even in the child’s
two-word utterances. Word endings and function words follow, as the child’s
command of syntactic structures continues to increase.
Perhaps the most important generalization we can make is that in
acquiring grammatical competence, children increasingly express more of
the deeper propositional structures in their surface structures. Considering
just the surface structure, such learning might appear to proceed from part
to whole. But viewed from the point of the deeper, underlying structure, it
is just the opposite: first comes the whole, the underlying propositions, and
42 THE PROCESS OF LANGUAGE ACQUISITION

then gradually comes an ability to represent the parts that reflect and
convey that whole.
What Is Acquired
Considering some of the research into the syntax of kindergartners gives

an even greater appreciation of the complexity of the grammatical system
children acquire before they enter first grade.
In 1967, O’Donnell, Griffin, and Norris reported the results of a massive
study of the syntax of elementary school children. They compared the use
of syntactic constructions in the spoken language of kindergartners and
students in grades 1, 2, 3, 5, and 7, and in the writings of students in grades
3, 5, and 7.
In oral language, there was significant growth in the use of syntactic
structures between the end of the kindergarten year and the end of the
first-grade year; as the investigators put it, “The first-grade year was one of
rapid and extensive development in exploiting language structures” (p. 99).
What may seem more surprising, however, is the fact that the kindergartners
used almost all the constructions used orally by the older students. The
following are some of the investigators’ observations:
1. The eleven basic sentence patterns of main clauses that were tabulated
in the study “were all used in the speech of kindergarten children, although
six of them occurred very infrequently” (p. 88). Indeed, four of these six
patterns were not used much more often by the older students—not even
by the seventh graders (p. 72). Figure 3.4 includes simple examples to
illustrate these patterns, as well as the other constructions and functions
analyzed. However, the investigators seldom included speech samples to
illustrate them, so most of the examples are mine.
2. Of the thirty-nine specific structures and functions analyzed for this study,
the three completely missing from kindergartners’ speech were not much
used by older children either (p. 91). Those three were noun + adverb
constructions (man outside), indirect objects (Give the dog a bone), and
objective complements (We elected him secretary). On the other hand, some
items seem clearly to be early acquisitions, well used by the kindergartners
(p. 92).

FIGURE 3.4 Grammatical constructions and patterns, other than coordinate
constructions, analyzed by O’Donnell, Griffin, and Norris (1967).
STRUCTURAL PATTERNS OF THE MAIN CLAUSES ANALYZED

Subject-verb: The baby cried.
Subject'Verb'object: He took my pencil.
Subject-verb-predicate nominal: Our dog is a German shepherd.
Subject-verb-predicate adjectival: Our dog is big.
Subject'verb-indirect object-direct object: I gave the dog a bone.
Subject'verb'object-object complement (nominal): We elected Candace president.
Subject'verb'object-adjectival complement: Our teacher considers her responsible.
Adverbial'verb'Subject: Slowly ticked the clock.
There'verb'Subject: There were lots of kids at the party.
It'verb'Subject: It would be easy to blame him.
Passive constructions: Our garden was eaten by rabbits.
HEADED NOMINAL CONSTRUCTIONS

[Each of these constructions consists of a noun, the “head” of the construction,
preceded or followed by something that modifies it and is therefore
functioning like an adjective, regardless of its internal structure.]
Noun + noun: barn door
Noun T adjective: cold rain; time in immemorial
Noun + genitive [possessive] form: man’s coat; children’s boots
Noun + relative [adjectival] clause: boy who was riding his bike
Noun + prepositional phrase: bird in a tree
Noun + infinitive phrase: food to eat
Noun + participle or participial phrase: falling leaves; woman washing her car
Noun + adverb: man outside
NONHEADED NOMINAL CONSTRUCTIONS

[These are all nominal constructions if and when they function like nouns.]
Noun clause: I know that it costs a lot.
Infinitive phrase: To leave early would be sensible.
Infinitive with subject: I want you to go with Michael.
Gerund phrase: Watching TV is Greg’s favorite sport.
ADVERBIAL CONSTRUCTIONS
Adverbial clauses: Since the rates went up, I canceled our cable TV service. Let
me know if you lower the rates again.
Sentence adverbials: Nevertheless, it’s true. You, I think, might become a writer.
The store being closed, I can’t, unfortunately, get you more paper right now.
Adverbial infinitives: He saved up his money to buy a new computer.
44 WHAT IS ACQUIRED
3. All three major kinds of subordinate clauses—nominal, adjectival, and
adverbial—were used quite often by kindergarten children: “relative [adjec-
tival] clauses, in fact, were used most frequently in kindergarten” (p. 98).
We shall see in a later chapter that low-achieving students typically do

not demonstrate as good a command of the syntactic resources of our
language as the children whose speech and writing were analyzed by O’Don¬
nell, Griffin, and Norris. However, even the low-achieving students’ com¬
mand of syntax is impressive (Loban, 1976). And surely even this chapter’s
brief introduction to language acquisition gives the lie to statements like
“He doesn’t even know what a sentence is.” Except, perhaps, for children
with severe language disorders, this simply is not true. Of course, none of
us speak exclusively in grammatically complete sentences, and in fact, the
sentences of middle-class, educated adults are often the most convoluted
and the least grammatical (Labov, 1969). It is also true that children and
adults may not always write in grammatically complete or coherent sen¬
tences, and we do not always punctuate our writing in units that correspond
precisely to grammatical sentences. However, even the youngest schoolchil¬
dren have already acquired a functional command of the grammar of their
language and their community dialect, including most of its sentence
structures, clauses, and various kinds of phrases. Youngsters entering school
are already proficient language users who demonstrate that they have
acquired most of the grammatical resources of their native language.
Two particularly good discussions of child language acquisition are
Lindfors (1987) and Genishi and Dyson (1984). An especially readable
introduction to language acquisition is De Villiers and De Villiers, Early
Language (1979).
Evidence from Reading Miscues
In addition to direct evidence of grammar acquisition through oral and

written use, we have indirect evidence from reading miscues. Coined by
Kenneth Goodman (1965), the term miscue refers to any departure the
reader makes from the actual words of the text. Miscues not only provide
insight into the reading process but also demonstrate that readers have an
intuitive sense of the grammar of the language that they draw upon while
reading. This holds true for most of the youngest and least proficient readers
as well as for good readers.

To illustrate, let us first examine some of the miscues made by an
exceptionally good reader, Jay. At the time he read the O. Henry story
“Jimmy Hayes and Muriel” (Porter, 1936), Jay was in the sixth grade. Here
are some sentences in which Jay made one miscue and then restructured
the rest of the sentence so that it would be grammatical.
jay: Ain't bea/id mueb atmui beA beauty. . . .

text: “Ain’t ever heard anybody call her a beauty. . . .”
JAY: “Abid, beAetd, Mu/iiei, daid Jtcuyei, uutb an QA/zbyuoal uxaue &j bid, band.
text: “This here Muriel,” said Hayes, with an oratorical wave of his
hand, “has got qualities.”
These restructurings make it clear that Jay has a strong intuitive grasp of
the structure of English.
But even most younger and less proficient readers demonstrate an
intuitive awareness of the grammar of English through the miscues they
make. For example, Karl, a first grader, was enrolled in the Reading Recow
ery program for children deemed at risk of failure in learning to read.
(Thanks to Grace Vento-Zogby for these examples. The books Karl was
reading from are Look [Cutting, 1988]; Huggles Goes Away [Cowley, 1986];
The Bicycle [Cowley, 1983] Ratty-tatty [Cowley, 1987]; Mom’s Haircut [Sem-
pie and Tuer, 1987].) Even in October, during his first lesson, Karl was
making miscues that fit the grammar of the sentence. Indeed, his miscues
showed him attentive to grammar and meaning, but not always to the actual
letters of the word. For instance, with the following miscues, Karl read the
actual words of the text except where indicated:
karl: bind tf-ood!

text: “Look,” said the birds. /“Bread!”
Here are some other examples from early lessons:
karl: jjwd,
text: some sandwiches,
[The picture shows a stack of sandwiches.]
karl: JtucycjdeA, cyxsed, cueeuy.
text: Goodbye!
During his nineteenth lesson, Karl made three interrelated miscues, show¬
ing that, like Jay, he could draw upon his intuitive knowledge of grammar
to restructure text and maintain grammaticality. For example:
46 EVIDENCE FROM READING MISCUES

KARL: becui cpeA* 4splat
text: and the bicycle got . . . / squashed.

[The bear was riding the bicycle and indeed
went splat, on top of the bicycle.]
By March, Karl was beginning to make miscues that cannot be viewed as

logical substitutions for the words in the text. However, these miscues
almost always fit with the preceding grammar, suggesting that Karl was using
grammar to predict what was coming next. When his predictions were not
grammatical with the following text, Karl typically corrected them. For
example:
KARL: uxaAsit
text: It went off snap!
[The miscue wasn’t fits with off, but not with off snap! Karl
corrected it, making the sentence grammatical.]
KARL: the,
text: Mom needed a haircut, so she decided . . .
[The miscue the fits with the preceding grammar, but not
with the following grammar. Karl corrected it.]
Miscue patterns like Karls are not unusual. Rather, they are quite common
among even the first graders in the Reading Recovery program. Such miscue
patterns show that these children have a strong intuitive sense of grammar,
which they use in their reading.
Further evidence that even the less proficient readers have a strong
sense of grammar comes from Jaime, a child who was nine at the time her
reading was recorded for a miscue analysis (Weaver, 1996). Although she
seldom corrected miscues that failed to go with the following grammar or
meaning, she made effective use of grammar (and usually meaning) to
predict what was coming next. Of the 75 consecutive miscues that were
analyzed, 73 percent went with the grammar and meaning of the preceding
context, and another 7 percent went with the preceding grammar or mean¬
ing, but not both. The following examples are from Jaime’s reading of
Clifford Takes a Trip (Bridwell, 1966). Except as indicated, Jaime read the
actual words of the text:
JAIME: Ue- duhTt

text: but it did hurt his feelings
[Jaime read “but he didn’t,” then omitted the rest of the
sentence.]

JAIME: tcdze- a
text: The little old man gave Clifford a little lunch, to thank him
for his help.
[Both miscues go with the grammar of the preceding part of
the sentence. The first miscue, take, also goes grammatically
with the next word in the text.]
JAIME: eue/uf, can,
text: Clifford just tip'toed over the cars.

JAIME: cJie dent had came
text: We didn’t know Clifford was coming.

[Jaime commonly says “he don’t” in normal speech.]
jaime: laaJe tkein mother
text: Good old Clifford / took the baby bears / back to Mama Bear.
[Each of the miscues fits with the grammar of what comes
before.]
Thus Jaime’s miscues lend further evidence to the argument that we use
our intuitive knowledge of grammar in reading as well as in speaking and
writing, even though we may be completely unable to explain grammatical
patterns and rules, and may even be unaware that we unconsciously know
the grammar of our native language.
Second Language Acquisition
Those unfamiliar with second language acquisition research may be sun

prised to learn of the substantive evidence demonstrating that a second or
additional language may be most readily acquired in much the same way as
one’s native language: through immersion in oral and written language—
that is, through immersion in situations where one needs and wants to
listen, speak, read, and write in order to understand and be understood.
This is true for adults as well as children. Indeed, even when second
language learners are taught the grammatical structure and rules of the
second language, they may acquire these in a different way or a different
order—or not acquire some of them at all (Terrell, 1991).
Stephen Krashen’s model of second language acquisition has been es-
pecially influential, providing a theoretical explanation for why this should
be so. Krashen (1981, 1982, 1985) contrasts language learning with language
acquisition. “Learning” another language is what many of us have done in
48 SECOND LANGUAGE ACQUISITION

school. We have memorized vocabulary, studied grammar, translated pas^
sages, perhaps rehearsed conversational phrases (all depending upon the
instructional approach). In short, we have studied the language, but we may
never have achieved much facility in listening to or speaking the language,
or in reading or writing it for any authentic purpose outside of class. Such
language learning involves “knowing about” a language, but it doesn’t
necessarily lead to knowing the language in the same sense as if it were
truly acquired. Or to put it differently, many of us have studied a language
in school, but few have acquired genuine competence in the language
through that process.
As we have seen with children learning their native language, language
acquisition is a subconscious process that leads to functional command of
the rules of a language, though not necessarily to conscious knowledge
about the language or its rules. Krashen has pointed out that what is
minimally required for first or second language acquisition is comprehensible
input from others in the environment: language that is comprehensible
enough that the language learner can unconsciously abstract the patterns
and rules from the language heard and/or read. Thus someone acquiring a
second language entirely through exposure to it might, even as an adult,
go through some of the same stages as a child learning that language
natively. For example, Puerto Rican teenagers suddenly transplanted to New
York City typically go through the same sequence of rules for negation as
do young children learning English as their native language. Several studies
show that adults acquiring a second language will acquire the grammatical
markers of that language in a fairly predictable order, even if the grammar
has been explicitly taught to them in a different order (Terrell, 1991, p. 55).
And pidgin languages that arise when speakers of mutually unintelligible
languages need to communicate bear striking resemblance to the early
sentences and structures of young children (e.g., compare child language
with the structure of pidgins, as in Schumann, 1974).
To be comprehensible, language input must be rich enough to provide
raw data for the abstraction of patterns and the construction of rules. On
the other hand, the language input must be sufficiently comprehensible for
the language learner to connect meaning with form (Snow, 1986). In
addition to the concept of comprehensible input, two other hypotheses in
Krashen’s theory of second language acquisition are especially relevant here.
One is his hypothesis that a low affective filter is necessary for language
acquisition to take place. Briefly put, a low affective filter means that the
person is relatively open to learning from the comprehensible input, which

includes being relatively unafraid of taking risks and making mistakes. This
is obviously the situation with young children learning their native lam
guage, but it may also be a necessary condition for adults to truly acquire
a language. When speakers and writers edit their language production by
drawing upon their conscious understanding of the forms of the language,
they are using their language monitor. Continual use of the monitor may
result in somewhat more “correct” language production, but it can also raise
the affective filter—ones mental block against learning from the compre-
hensible input and taking risks in speaking and/or writing (Krashen, 1985;
I have gone somewhat beyond Krashen in emphasizing the importance of
taking risks).
In The Input Hypothesis (1985), Krashen discusses some of the evidence
for his theory of second language acquisition. What I would like to do here
is review some of the evidence from studies in which the acquisition of
English through reading is contrasted with the learning or acquisition of
English through more direct means.
Elley’s Review of Nine Studies

In “Acquiring Literacy in a Second Language: The Effect of Book-Based
Programs,” Warwick Elley (1991) reviews nine studies of the acquisition of
English as a second language, most of which were undertaken in the South
Pacific and Southeast Asia. Most notable among these is his own earlier
study (Elley & Mangubhai, 1983). Typically these studies compared the
results of programs based on structured systematic instruction in English
with “book flood” programs, which exposed children to large numbers of
high-interest storybooks. In other words, the studies compared the effects
of a direct instruction approach with an indirect instruction approach
designed simply to provide children with comprehensible input, through
books.
The direct instruction approach typically was based upon the principles
articulated by structural linguists (e.g., Bloomfield, 1942) and audiolingual
methodology: practice on a carefully sequenced set of grammatical struc¬
tures, through imitation, repetition, and reinforcement. In contrast, the
book flood approaches reflected “natural” or whole language learning prin¬
ciples. They usually involved sustained silent reading of an extensive num¬
ber of picture books; the Shared Book Experience (Holdaway, 1979), which
included not only reading but related discussion and activities; or a com¬
bination of Sustained Silent Reading and the Shared Book Experience. In
one instance, these two procedures were supplemented by a modified lan-

guage experience approach involving children in reading material they had
dictated.
From these combined studies, the following patterns emerged:
1. Students in the book flood programs did better on almost all standardized
measures of reading, including not only comprehension skills but also word
identification and phonics skills.
2. Usually favoring the book flood students were differences in measures of

oral and written language and vocabulary (e.g., listening comprehension,
written story completion), and sometimes differences in other aspects of
school achievement as well (see also Elley, 1989).
3. Among the book flood students, those in Shared Book Experience

programs typically showed greater gains on various tests than those in silent
reading programs. (Probably this result suggests the value of reading and
discussing the text together.)
4. Students in the book flood programs generally had a more positive

attitude toward books and reading. (One wonders if these programs also
affected children’s attitudes toward English as a second language.)
5. Students in the book flood programs often did better on tests of the grammatical
structures explicitly taught in the audiolingual programs. Elley notes that this
interpretation “was [also] supported by an incidental study in which knowb
edge and use of English in natural settings was found to be largely unaffected
by deliberate instruction in them” (1991, p. 389). (This correlates, too, with
the research that grammatical markers tend to be learned in a consistent
order, regardless of the order in which they are taught.)
Elley summarizes, in part, as follows: “That pupils showed equally large gains
in the discrete^point tests of grammatical structures and vocabulary as they
did in the more integrative measures of reading, listening, and writing is
particularly damaging for those who argue that structures and vocabulary
should be deliberately taught” (1991, p. 402).
In short, Elley’s summary of these nine studies provides strong evidence
for the hypothesis that comprehensible input and a low affective filter
facilitate language acquisition more readily than direct teaching of grammar
and vocabulary. This is not to say that the direct teaching of grammar plays
no role at all in the acquisition of a second language, especially for adults
and adolescents. But the research evidence does suggest that direct teaching

of grammar is not necessary for acquiring the basic structure of a second
language, anymore than for acquiring one’s native language.
The CUNY Experiment

In “Fluency First: Reversing the Traditional ESL Sequence” (1991b) and
“Fluency Before Correctness: A Whole Language Experiment in College
ESL” (1991a), Adele MacGowan-Gilhooly describes an interesting experi-
ment in teaching English as a Second Language to students wanting to
enter the City University of New York (CUNY). While the initial experb
ments at CUNY did not include a control group, the instructors did have
data available for comparing their experimental approach with the ap-
proach they had used previously.
Basing their approach on already existing research into the acquisb
tion of a second language, they decided to emphasize first fluency, then
clarity, and to work explicitly on correctness only after the first two goals
had been achieved. (See 1991a, pp. 39-40, for their working definitions
of fluency and clarity.) Essentially the fluency-to-clarity-to-correctness se¬
quence parallels the stages of first language acquisition; it is in effect a
whole-to-part approach, wherein communication is the first goal. The
teachers adopted these and other principles of whole language learning and
teaching, including the idea that emergent speakers of a language must be
immersed in using it. Because the students had to pass tests in reading and
writing in order to be admitted to regular courses at the university, the
revised sequence of three courses emphasized wide reading and extensive
writing, but discussion of the readings and the students’ writings also
involved the language learners in a substantial amount of speaking and
listening as well.
A description of the three courses will help clarify how these principles
were realized in practice.
esl io The students read 1,000 pages of popular fiction, along with
autobiographical and biographical works. They had to read about 70 pages
a week, plus copy passages that struck them and respond to those passages
in a double-entry journal. They also worked on a writing project that had
to total 10,000 words by the end of the semester (about 40 to 50 typewrit¬
ten pages). Most of the ESL students wrote autobiographical pieces or
family histories. Their partners helped the students make the pieces more
comprehensible, logical, and interesting; teachers then gave more of this
kind of feedback for the writers to consider for final revisions. “By semester’s

end, most [students] were reading and writing fluently and even more
correctly than in the beginning, without having received any corrections
or grammar instruction” (1991b, p. 80). (For the text developed for this
class, see MacGowan-Gilhooly, 1993.)
esl 20 This course focused on clarity in organizing and developing ex-

pository papers. But the teachers eased the students into expository writing
by beginning with the reading of historical fiction or nonfiction having to
do with the United States. Again, the students responded to the readings
in double-entry journals and discussed their readings in small groups. They
also wrote a 10,000-word, semester-long project on some aspect of the
United States—its people, history, culture, or problems. Various kinds of
writing were included. By the end of the term, most students were writing
clearly enough to pass the course. (For the text developed for this class, see
MacGowan-Gilhooly, 1995).
esl 30 This course focused on the elimination of the most serious and
most frequently occurring errors, and on looking just for these errors while
editing. “This eliminates the bulk of students’ errors without the cognitive
overburden of trying to correct every error” (1991b, p. 81). The other major
focus was preparing for the test that the university requires of ESL students
before they can take most of their regular courses. In ESL 30, students read
and wrote argumentative prose, often real-world prose like letters to news¬
papers or public officials. Again, they received help in revising, but in this
course they also received help in editing to eliminate errors. They kept
individualized study lists of spelling words, new vocabulary, useful facts,
grammar points they needed to focus on, mechanics issues, and style issues.
(MacGowan-Gilhooly notes her disappointment that this course had to be
narrowed to a test-preparation course and indicates that some students who
were writing well at the end of ESL 20 do not progress in ESL 30, and a
few even seem to regress under the pressure of preparing for the university’s
writing assessment test; see 1991a, p. 45.)
MacGowan-Gilhooly reports that since CUNY implemented this whole

language approach, the passing rate on the reading assessment test has
almost doubled (1991a, p. 45). The writing test passing rate increased from
35 to 56 percent (1991b, p. 83). Fewer students were repeating ESL 10, 20,
or 30, and the external readers of the writing test commented on what good
writers the ESL students had become (1991a, p. 45). Furthermore, these

improvements occurred even though only about two^thirds of the faculty
were using the new whole language approach (1991b, p. 74). However, the
most compelling evidence, MacGowamGilhooly believes, is qualitative
rather than quantitative. In comparison with previous classes, the teachers
of the new whole language-oriented classes reported such changes as these
in their students and their classes (1991b, pp. 83-84):
• More confidence, better ability to work in groups, more tolerance

for divergent views
• More daring in their use of new vocabulary
• Greater ability to write interesting pieces
• Essays of greater depth and richness, more fluency, and better
grammar
• Better reading comprehension and speed
• Greater enjoyment of reading than in previous ESL courses
• Better discussions of readings
• Better analytical thinking, much greater intellectual curiosity
• Improvement in speaking (according to many students)
• Students were more serious, concentrated, selTreliant, and open
to others
While these are only impressions, many of them are obviously worth
researching to document in more rigorous fashion. MacGowan-Gilhooly
(1991b) also reports:
Traditional approaches seemed to inhibit experimentation and exaggerate

the importance of errors. Before the course, students could not apply rules
they had learned to their writing; but after it, it seemed they could. Yet
the only grammar instruction they had had was in the context of questions
about their own writing as they revised it. (p. 84)
On a personal note, I was so impressed with the results of the early

CUNY experiments that I incorporated a literature-and^response element
into my graduate course in the reading process, which at that time enrolled
mostly students in a masters degree program in teaching English as a second
language. Many of the students were themselves noivnative speakers of
English; several had already taught English in their home countries. In
addition to extensive professional reading in journals, I required students
to read about 75 pages of literature (usually fiction) per week, and to respond
with dialogue journal entries. Often, they wrote a typewritten page or two
of response, though I didn’t really expect that much. After I incorporated

this requirement, one of the students wrote at the end of the semester that
at first she could only read three or four pages at a time in English and write
a few sentences, but by the end of the semester she could read a hundred
pages and write several pages of her own. Other students likewise made
major leaps in fluency.
Obviously the students had achieved greater fluency through immersion
in reading and writing, but what of their acquisition of grammar? Dan
Cupery (1992) reports the results of research he conducted for his final
paper in that class. In brief, those international students who had the most
limited command of the syntactic resources of English at the beginning of
the term made noticeable syntactic progress by the end of the term. Com¬
pared with their pre-test stories, the post-test stories generally showed no¬
ticeable syntactic growth in words per T-unit, clauses per T-unit, free
modifiers per T-unit, and especially in embeddings per T-unit (embeddings
include subordinate clauses, free modifiers, and a few other constructions).
The writers who were originally most proficient showed little change in
their use of grammatical elements. The study was much too small (eight
subjects) to achieve statistical significance, but it suggests a direction for
further research.
The studies discussed reflect the range of research bearing on the
question of how learners can most readily acquire the grammar of a second
or other language. While they vary from rigorously conducted research (e.g.,
Elley and Mangubhai, 1983) to noncomparative teacher research among a
small group of students in a single classroom (Cupery, 1992), they all
exemplify a recent interest in investigating whether a second language is
best acquired through immersion in the language itself, or through direct
instruction in the structures and vocabulary of the language, or through
some combination of both. Substantive evidence suggests that basic gram¬
matical competence is best developed through exposure to comprehensible
input and through attempting to communicate in the target language,
relatively unhampered by initial concerns about correctness. In second
language acquisition as well as in first language acquisition, grammatical
correctness may be best achieved by focusing on fluency first, rather than
on grammar itself. Furthermore, the evidence from the studies summarized
by Elley (1991), from other studies of learning English as a second language
(e.g., Gradman and Hanania, 1991), and from a comprehensive summary
by Krashen (1993) strongly suggests that reading, reading, and more reading
may be critical for first and second language learners, both in developing
fluency and in expanding their command of the syntactic resources of the

language (e.g., Perera, 1984). Krashen’s The Power of Reading (1993) sum¬
marizes a considerable body of research, but we may have only just begun
to document the powerful effects of reading.
How Language Is Acquired: A Summary
Language acquisition is a complex process. While clearly children do imi¬

tate adult speech in some ways, it is also clear that imitation, repetition,
and habit formation are nowhere near adequate to account for the acqui¬
sition of one’s native language, including its grammatical patterns or rules.
Neither is direct teaching. Even though parents and other caretakers may
tell children the names of things, they do not directly teach babies and
toddlers the grammatical system of the language.
Particularly relevant for our purposes here are the following conclusions
from studies of first language acquisition:
1. At first, the underlying propositions—what we have called the deeper

structure—are only minimally represented in the surface structure of a
child’s language. Gradually, however, more and more of the semantic and
syntactic elements are represented in the surface structure of children’s
sentences.
2. If propositions are considered the whole of what children are trying to

express, then we can logically say that language acquisition proceeds from
whole to part: from a minimal representation of propositions to increasingly
greater representation of the parts.
3. Adults do not—indeed, they could not—directly teach children the

grammatical rules of their language. Children abstract these rules from the
comprehensible input in their environment.
4- Children unconsciously form hypotheses about language structure. As

the structure of the language input to which they are exposed becomes
increasingly understood, children abandon less sophisticated hypotheses
and formulate more sophisticated ones—all unconsciously, of course.
5. Children’s competence in grammar is acquired only gradually, with

successive approximations coming closer and closer to adult norms. What
seem like “errors” from the viewpoint of adult language performance are
absolutely necessary for language development.
56 HOW LANGUAGE IS ACQUIRED: A SUMMARY

6. One important factor in childrens ready acquisition of language is their
naturally low affective filter. Unless an adult intervenes punitively, young
children will just naturally take risks in using language; they are uninhibited
by fear of failure, punishment, or embarrassment.
7. There are many ways that adults facilitate children’s acquisition of

language: for instance, by exposing them to rich and only slightly simplified
language; by considering language acquisition to be as natural a process as
learning to walk, and acting accordingly; by responding to what children
are trying to say rather than to the correctness of their utterances; and, in
many homes, by reading to children. In fact, there is clear evidence that
reading even to secondary school students generates growth not only in
vocabulary and an understanding of story, but also in understanding and
use of syntactic constructions (Perera, 1984, 1986).
Although a second or other language is often taught through audiolin'

gual or grammar/translation methods (e.g., as explained in Freeman and
Freeman, 1994), there is significant evidence that an additional language
may also be best acquired through essentially the same processes as one’s
first language. Of course, formal study may facilitate and refine that process
(Terrell, 1991), but it can also impede it, by encouraging language learners
to overly monitor their language use and refrain from taking the risks that
genuine language acquisition requires.

4
Toward a Perspective on Error
Traditionally we have viewed departures from adult standards in writ¬

ing as “errors,” pure and simple. This kind of thinking is revealed by
the preservice teacher who worked with a first grader twenty years ago. The
child had written about Puff the magic dragon, and he put periods at
the end of every line rather than at the end of the sentences. The preservice
teacher had explained to the child that we put periods at the end of
sentences, but he had grasped only that periods go at the end of something
and put them at the ends of lines instead. Perhaps he had been reading
primers in which sentences always ended at the ends of lines (not uncom¬
mon in the basal reading programs of the 1970s). In any case, the preservice
teacher was bewildered at the child’s lack of compliance with her explana¬
tion. Apparently it had not occurred to her that in putting periods at the
ends of lines, the child was operating upon his own developmental hypothe¬
sis about the use of periods. She viewed the child simply as failing to
respond to her adult instruction.
Fortunately Grace Vento-Zogby, the teacher who recently observed a
first grader apply a similar development hypothesis (see Figure 4.1), was
more knowledgeable. She realized that putting periods at the ends of lines
rather than sentences is not uncommon at a certain stage among children
who are reinventing punctuation by developing hypotheses about its use
(Cordeiro, 1988). Realizing that the child is neither stupid nor stubborn,
this experienced and knowledgeable teacher will keep assisting Rachel with
using periods until she abandons her original hypothesis for the convention
followed by adult writers.
We saw in Chapter 3 that children do not learn the basic structures of
their native language through direct instruction, but through their own
discovery and by formulating increasingly sophisticated hypotheses. So it
58
FIGURE 4.1 Placement of periods by a first grader.
H M Af\J P‘
»ED MID-
E K-
My mom and dad and brother are sick. Rachel, first grade (10/3/95)
often is with the conventions of written language. That is, children may
learn many conventions through observation (both incidental and deliben
ate) and then generalization, more than through direct instruction—though
the latter can help, when the learner is ready. Something we teachers need
to learn, then, is how to recognize and deal effectively with “errors” that
are actually evidence of the writer’s thinking and, in some cases, clear
indicators of the writer’s growth in mastering the structures and conventions
of written English. Thus this chapter deals with developing an informed
and reasonable perspective on error and with strategies for helping writers
learn to edit their writing in order to eliminate errors from their final drafts.
Errors as a Necessary Concomitant of Growth
We saw in Chapter 3 that children naturally make various kinds of “errors”

as they learn the rules of their language. For the pronoun we, five^yeanold
John says “weez,” because plurals take an -s or *z sound. In learning the
rule, John has overgeneralized it to a word that is already plural. Jane Kiel
reports this and other overgeneralizations from two children in her day care
center: Tristan, just turned four, and John, age four.
Toward a Perspective on Error 59

TRISTAN JOHN
Maybe the rabbit losed his fur. [lost] We goed to Wendy’s, [went]
He runs fastly. [fast] I dooed it. [did]
He loseded it. [lost]
Dinosaurs are extincted. [extinct]
Notice that while Tristan applies the regular past tense ending to lose and
produces losed (pronounced “loozd”), John goes him one better by making
losed itself past tense. A regular verb that ends in a -t or -d sound takes a
vowel sound plus -d for the past tense, and this is what John adds to losed,
producing the double past tense, loseded.
As adults, we are typically amused by such overgeneralizations, knowing
that they will almost certainly disappear as the child gains more experience
with the language. We are similarly amused, perhaps even delighted, by the
errors in children’s drawings. However, we can learn from examining chib
dren’s drawings some developmental characteristics that hold for writing as
well.
Six of John’s drawings (a different John) are included in Figure 4.2.
These were collected in the sequence in which they are presented, left to
right, top to bottom. In the first drawing we notice, for example, that the
figure has arms, legs, and hair, but no body. The second figure shows
progress, with fingers added to the hands, and feet added to the legs. The
third figure has “lost” its arms, while gaining another body feature. The
fourth figure has arms, hands, feet, shoelaces, and a body, with legs attached.
However, it has “lost” the hair. The fifth figure includes two-dimensional
legs and bodies that seem to be differentiated for male (dad and son) and
female (mother, in the middle); however, it too shows no hair on the
people. The sixth figure is much more sophisticated, with a neck, two-di¬
mensional arms and legs, a beard, a crown, and, yes, hair.
What can we learn from considering this sequence of pictures? At least
the following developmental characteristics:
• Learners do not typically master something correctly all at once.

(For example, arms are included in the first two pictures, but they
are not yet two-dimensional.) Indeed, learners may develop
several hypotheses about how something is done before achieving
adult or expert competence.
• Something learned may be temporarily not applied as the person
is trying something else new. (The arms are missing from picture
three, which includes an additional body feature.)
60 ERRORS AS A NECESSARY CONCOMITANT OF GROWTH

FIGURE 4.2 Developmental sequence in John’s drawings.

These generalizations hold for emergent writers as well as for emergent
artists, and for adults as well as children (e.g., Scardamalia, Bereiter, and
Goelman, 1982; Cordeiro, Giacobbe, and Cazden, 1983).
In their article on error analysis and the teaching of composition, Kroll
and Schafer (1978) include a chart (see Figure 4.3) that nicely compares
the traditional, behavioral approach to teaching writing with a construc-
tivist approach stemming from more recent findings in cognitive psychology
(see Chapter 6 of the present book). The preceding discussion in this
section illustrates particularly Kroll and Schafer’s fourth paragraph in the
Process column: “Errors are a natural part of learning a language; they arise
from learners’ active strategies: overgeneralization, ignorance of rule restrict
tions, incomplete rule application, hypothesizing false concepts.” This ob¬
servation refers to errors made in learning a language, but much the same
can be said about errors made in becoming an accomplished writer (e.g.,
Falk, 1979), even though some of the errors we make as writers are careless
ones, or conscious errors that we intend to correct by the final draft.
Spelling Errors as a Part of Learning

Since “invented” spelling has become such an issue in some communities,
it seems important to demonstrate some of the natural patterns of learning
in children’s spelling. These will serve as exemplars of how natural growth
in writing necessarily involves error.
The term invented spelling was intended to convey the notion that
children who are first allowed to spell as best they can will naturally go
through increasingly sophisticated stages in their spelling (Read, 1975;
Bissex, 1980; Ferreiro and Teberosky, 1982). Just as children develop hy¬
potheses or rules for putting words together to speak their native language,
so they will develop hypotheses or rules for spelling words in order to convey
meaning. Because children’s invented spellings reflect their minds at work,
some people prefer to use the term constructed spellings (Faminack, 1991).
Of course, children’s hypotheses about spelling are not necessarily con¬
scious, and in fact they may know perfectly well that their spellings are not
the same as adults’ spellings. Nevertheless, we adults can often induce rules
that seem to be guiding the children in spelling (Weaver, 1994, pp. 71-73,
provides a fuller discussion). When children first start writing letters, the
letters may bear no relationship to sounds (Figure 4.4a). Their “rule” seems
to be something like “write some letters and hope someone else can read
what you’ve written.” Children who are just beginning to use letters to
represent sounds may often seem to be operating on a rule such as this:

FIGURE 4.3 Contrast between behavioral and constructivist approaches to learners’
errors (Kroll and Schafer, 1978). The fourth paragraph in the process column is credited
to Richards (1971).
ISSUE PRODUCT PROCESS

[BEHAVIORAL] [CONSTRUCTIVIST]
APPROACH APPROACH
Why should one To produce a To produce a
study errors? linguistic psycholinguistic
taxonomy of what explanation of why a
errors learners learner makes an error.
make.
What is the attitude Errors are “bad.” Errors are “good.”

toward error? (Interesting only (Interesting to the
to the linguistic theorist and teacher, and
theorist.) useful to the learner as
active tests of his
hypotheses.)
What can we hope to Those items on The strategies which led
discover from which the learner the learner into the error.
learners’ errors? or the program
failed.
How can we account It is primarily a Errors are a natural part of
for the fact that a failure to learn learning a language; they
learner makes an the correct form arise from learners’
error? (perhaps a case of active strategies:
• language overgeneralization,
inference). ignorance of rule
restrictions, incomplete
rule application,
hypothesizing false
concepts.
What are the A teaching A learning perspective:

emphases and perspective: assist the learner in
goals of eliminate all approximating the target
instruction? errors by language; support active
establishing learning strategies and
correct, automatic recognize that not all
habits; mastery of errors will disappear.
the target
language is the
goal.

FIGURE 4-4a Pre-phonemic writing. The letters do not represent sounds.
I am pushing my tractor. Cory (Spring of Kindergarten, 1994, age 5)
FIGURE 4-4E Early phonemic writing. One sound per word is represented.
I am playing soccer. Cory (Fall of First Grade, 10/17/94)
Write mainly the first sounds of the words (or of the syllables).
(Figure 4.4b)
Before long, this rule gives way to a rule like

Write mainly two or three sounds per word or syllable (usually, the
first and last consonant sounds, plus perhaps other consonant and
vowel sounds). (Figure 4-4c)
Of course, children then begin to add more and more letters to represent
sounds within the word—not only more of the consonant sounds, but
vowels too (Figure 4-4d). As children gain more exposure to written lan¬
guage, they begin to draw upon their visual memory to spell words and
perhaps to draw upon instruction they have received about rules like “add
-ed to show that something already happened” (Figure 4-4e). Gradually the
proportion of invented spellings diminishes and the proportion of conven-

FIGURE 4-4c Later phonemic writing. As here, usually more of the consonant sounds
are represented as the writer is just beginning to represent vowel sounds within words.
-fY r?
I went trick or treating with my friends. Cory (11/1/94)
FIGURE 4.4d Transitional writing. Most words include vowels; more of the sounds are
represented, and some “basic” words are spelled conventionally.
mot it\ 0}.

I want to go to the North Pole and back home before Christmas morning.
Cory (12/15/94)

FIGURE 4-4e Transitional writing. A majority of the words are spelled conventionally.
Last night I ate my hamburger and I swallowed my tooth. Cory (III 1195)
tional spellings increases (compare Figure 4.4d with Figure 4-4e). For chih
dren who are reading and writing daily, such development occurs even
without direct instruction in spelling. (Compare Cory’s spelling in Figure
4-4b in October with his spelling in Figure 4.4d in December and his
spelling in Figure 4.4e in January. He had received spelling instruction only
on a few words, during Reading Recovery tutoring.)
Figure 4.5a-c demonstrates how significant the change can be during
just part of a school year. In Figure 4.5a, Sandra wrote her first rendition
of “Humpty Dumpty” in late September. In late February, she was asked to
write the same piece as it was dictated to her. Notice that her spacing is
much better, and so is her spelling. Furthermore, it is not merely that she
spells more words conventionally: the invented spellings are much more
sophisticated, too. In the second example (Figure 4.5b) there is likewise a
considerable difference between the first writing sample in September and
the second, which was dictated to the child in June. Figure 4.5c shows
something Cory wrote on November 1 and then again in June when the
piece was dictated to him.
The point has already been made that such development occurs even
without direct instruction. However, this is not to say that teachers should

FIGURE 4.5a One first grader’s writing in September and in February (Fitzgerald, 1984).
F
In late September, Sandra produced this rendition of “Humpty Dumpty.”
ql tf6 oi^ horsi^qrti t~r\6

C'<J}6C Hq|n GVoim put f\UtW DnlW
T,° <5>esr q &er\
In late February, she produced this rendition.
not help children learn conventional spellings, or teach common spelling

patterns, or help children develop strategies for changing temporary spelh
ings to conventional spellings in final drafts. All of these are important (see
Wilde, 1992, a particularly valuable resource for elementary teachers). But
even if children did not receive such help, their spelling would gradually
improve if they were continually exposed to books and other written texts
and frequently given opportunities to write, while spelling as best they can.
Furthermore, research shows that by the end of first grade, children encoun
aged to spell as best they can score as well or better on standardized tests
of spelling than children who are asked to write using only the words they
can spell correctly (Clarke, 1988). In addition, they seem to develop a
better grasp of phonics, to use a much wider range of vocabulary, and of
course to write more as well (Clarke, 1988; Dahl and Freppon, 1992; and
several other sources cited in Weaver, 1994, ch. 7).
For teachers, the important message is to encourage students to spell as
best they can when they first write down what they have to say. With
children who are just beginning to write (many kindergartners and first

FIGURE 4.5b One first grader’s writing in September and in June. (Cochrane et al., 1984).
wY e<^t,re is ssfe/v csia

I
(, LifetyY aWe .
b bAeXfS
[
bAr
In September, a first grader wrote this story about her Barbie doll.
My Bor-Bie. 'S 5b < n co'a£ r

X L»'ê M/
Bor £»«•
Ir Wa 5 £> Dplc rs .
X (jot it" L 0.51" Hon 77?
QarT \n
When the same story was dictated to her in June, she wrote this.
graders), it is critical to model writing for and with them—to help them
hear sounds, make the letter/sound connections, and notice the convene
tional spellings as you compose together. Making lists of words that have
the same sound/spelling patterns (lists like night, fight, light, right, might,
sight) promotes both spelling and phonics development. When children
begin using a fairly high proportion of conventional or nearly conventional
spellings in their own writing, they should be ready to benefit from strategies
for checking and correcting their spelling. For example, a simple strategy,
one used even by adults, is simply to write a word two or three times and
see which one “looks right.”
Of course, this discussion is only suggestive of how to begin encouraging
growth in writing and spelling (see Wilde, 1992). But it emphasizes the
point that we teachers need to promote the natural growth of spelling and

FIGURE 4.5c One first grader’s writing in November and June.
r mt trfc
p i W
Z , Went -hriY< 0p +rinl

^ mY fr*te5.
This is how he wrote the same thing on June, when it was dictated to him.
J
not expect our instruction to produce perfectly spelled drafts, especially
from younger emergent writers. We don’t expect toddlers to produce sen-
tences that are grammatically correct by adult standards, and we shouldn’t
expect young schoolchildren to produce writing that is conventionally
spelled. It takes years to spell conventionally without sacrificing meaning
or rejecting the interesting words in our oral vocabulary. It takes years of
experience as a writer, and the opportunity to revise and edit successive
drafts of our writing. For some accessible resources dealing with the devel¬
opment of spelling and writing, see Figure 4.6.
Errors as a Necessary Result of Instruction

It had not occurred to me that writing growth and error go hand in hand
until I read an article by Roger McCaig (1977):

FIGURE 4-6 References on the early development of spelling and writing.
Clay, M. M. (1987). Writing begins at home. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Laminack, L. (1991). Learning with Zachary. Richmond Hill, Ontario: Scholastic.
Distributed in the United States by Heinemann.
McGee, L. M., & Richgels, D. J. (1990). Literacy’s beginnings: Supporting young
readers and writers. Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Newman, J. M. (1984). The craft of children’s writings. Richmond Hill, Ontario:
Scholastic. Distributed in the United States by Heinemann.
Temple, C., Nathan, R., Temple, F., & Burris, N. (1993). The beginnings of
writing (3rd ed.). Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Villiers, U. (1989). Luk mume dade I kan rite. New York: Scholastic. (Spanish
version also available)
By literal count, good sixth grade writing may have more errors per word
than good third grade writing. In a Piagetian sense, children do not master
things for once and for all. A child who may appear to have mastered
sentence sense in the fourth grade may suddenly begin making what adults
call sentence errors all over again as he attempts to accommodate his
knowledge of sentences to more complicated constructions, (pp. 50-51)
And Mina Shaughnessy noted in her landmark book Errors and Expectations
(1977) that “it is not unusual for people acquiring a skill to get ‘worse’
before they get better and for writers to err more as they venture more”
(p. H9).
From this point, it was only a small step to realizing that instruction in
how to do something new will often result in writers making new kinds of
errors. Take, for instance, a paper by a first grader (Figure 4.7). Having been
introduced to the use of apostrophes in possessives, this child used the
apostrophe correctly in cow’s but unnecessarily and incorrectly in hod’s
[head’s]. She overgeneralized the apostrophe, just as preschoolers commonly
overgeneralize things like past tense and plural endings. So did Cory, in the
word frende’s, which in context was an ordinary plural. (Figure 4.5c).
Similarly, an earnest and eager student in one of my classes for preservice
teachers wrote about mathematic’s class after I had taught a minTlesson on
using apostrophes in possessives. I regularly find, in fact, that after such a
mini-lesson, some of my students will use apostrophes in ordinary plurals
and sometimes even in verbs, where the apostrophe is not called for. Such
overgeneralization is typical of new learning, with both oral and written
language.
Another interesting example comes from a preservice teacher who
taught a group of first graders the use of commas to separate items in a

FIGURE 4.7 Use of apostrophes by a first grader.
L v/cnt to
fAy j-arw and p
oat <*y
V\oi *
FIGURE 4.8 Use of commas by a first grader.
'Pifik. L$ WJ favorL-fcc color.
Cnji fs fe/vjr-A } yUl is ti s Kiris **

uJîrs ' JlrfesLS** CrAws**
f^Tr
kerfs' shorts' <<xr-ser\,As
series. They applied this lesson with varying success. One child, for exarm
pie, used marks that look a lot like commas, but she put them above the
print, where apostrophes would go (see Figure 4-8).
Some of the most interesting examples I have accumulated over the
years are from students in writing classes, where I have taught the use of
the participial phrase and the absolute construction to convey narrative
and descriptive details. In retelling the Pied Piper story, one freshman wrote
a paper that included the following dangling participles:

Playing a special tune on his flute, the rats came out from everywhere,
following the Piper out of town, down the road, over the hill, and
right into the river, drowning the rats.
Taking the kids far away from town, a nearing mountain split wide
open.
These sentences are not easy to reconstruct according to rule, but the first
one might read something like “Playing a special tune on his flute, the Piper
lured rats from everywhere out of town, down the road, over the hill, and
right into the river, drowning the rats.” In other words, the person playing
the flute should be named right after the comma, in order to avoid having
the introductory modifier dangle. This change also clarifies who is respom
sible for drowning the rats.
Another student wrote a marvelous description of a sea captain, with
two of her seventeen “sentences” actually being participial phrases and five
being absolute constructions, not grammatically complete sentence units.
For example, following are five punctuated sentences from her description,
with italics used for the participial fragment and the absolute fragment:
“Greying eyes search the horizon for unknown hazards lurking below.
Looking for the unpredictable answers of the sea. He reads the waters as if they
were a map. An old stocking cap covers the sparse sprigs of hair. His salt
and pepper beard tattered like the sail of an abandoned ship.”
What is a teacher to make of such results of her instruction? Fortunately
by the time I encountered these examples, I had come to expect errors to
accompany growth in writing. Therefore, my solution was, and is, simply
to applaud the experimentation and then to help the writer punctuate more
conventionally. As I wrote more than a decade ago, “The key, I believe, is
to think of writing as involving more than one draft. In the first draft(s)
we can then afford to encourage writers to take risks, the risks that will
result in both growth and error. By allowing for error, we can encourage
growth” (Weaver, 1982).
More Sophisticated Errors Replacing Less Sophisticated Errors
Another important lesson I have learned is that while old kinds of errors
are disappearing, new kinds of errors are taking their place. The result is
that the overall rate of errors may not lessen very much over the years.
This fact was brought home to me by John Mellons analysis of data
72 MORE SOPHISTICATED ERRORS REPLACING LESS SOPHISTICATED ERRORS

from the National Assessment of Educational Progress more than twenty
years ago (1975). From the data on the writing of children ages nine,
thirteen, and seventeen, Mellon analyzed occurrences of eight kinds of
errors: spelling, punctuation, capitalization, fragments, run-ons, agreement,
incorrect word choice, and “awkward constructions.” Although spelling er¬
rors decreased considerably with age and writing proficiency, the other kinds
of errors did not. For example, low-proficiency nine-year-olds wrote an
average of 0.6 sentence fragments per hundred words while high-proficiency
seventeen-year-olds wrote an average of 0.5, a slight difference indeed
(p. 31).
As a teacher accustomed to observing and reflecting upon the effects
of my teaching, I was intrigued. Could it be that the rate of errors in a
given category remained relatively constant because “old” errors within a
category were simply being replaced by more sophisticated kinds of errors?
I had casually observed this with my college freshmen, so I set out to
investigate with students in the elementary grades. Focusing just on sen¬
tence fragments found in two writing samples (one narrative and one
persuasive), I found that the proportion of fragments leveled off at grade
4, at 0.15 fragments per hundred words. Sure enough, though, the na¬
ture of the fragments changed over the grades. Here are some examples
that indicate the kind of fragment that was new at each grade (Weaver,
1982):
Grade 1 I want mom and dad to buy a pool, because she could teach in the
pool. [An explanatory because clause, found in the persuasive
writings.]
Grade 2 I get started on being layzy. And not doing my work. [The because
clause still predominated, but the second part of a compound
element was punctuated as a sentence nearly as often.]
Grade 3 I would like to do things in our science book. Like icksrmeting on
finding out. [The new kind of fragment that appeared
prominently was an explanatory phrase that elaborated on an
idea.]
Grade 4 “A superduper awesome machine,” said Bob. Sam for short. [New at
this grade level was the stylistic fragment, a fragment that has
the ring of artistry rather than accident.]
Grade 5 The most exciting thing that ever happened to me is. When I first
took a ride in are new Cadillac. [New kinds of subordinate clauses
were punctuated as sentences.]
Of course, changes in the nature of fragments would not necessarily be

found to be the same today, when more and more children in the primary

grades are being encouraged to write as best they can rather than just to
complete sentences or copy writing from the chalkboard. However, the
general point remains, namely, that the nature of errors seems to change
within major categories like “fragment” (Weaver, 1982). Cordeiro found the
same to be true within the general category of period placement (Cordeiro,
1988; see also Edelsky, 1983). Therefore, a nearly constant error rate over
the grades is misleading. It masks more subtle changes, thus obscuring
learning and growth.
It should be noted that in a more recent study, Nelson (1988) found
that over the grades there was a decrease in certain kinds of errors, particu¬
larly in fragments and run-on sentences. One cannot help wondering
whether the increase in “correctness” was purchased at the expense of
syntactic growth and experimentation.
Reconsidering What Counts as Error
In a fascinating article, Joseph Williams (1981) discusses what he calls “the

phenomenology of error.” He wonders why certain usages are attacked with
such ferocity by the writers of composition handbooks and by self-appointed
language mavens such as William Sabre (1993). The denunciation of
certain usages is all the more strange when we notice, as Williams did, that
the writers of composition handbooks often commit the same language
“sins” that they rail against.
One of Williams’s examples comes from Jacques Barzun. In Simple and
Direct (1975), Barzun asserts the following rule in the middle of one page:
In conclusion, I recommend using that with defining clauses, except when

stylistic reasons interpose, (p. 68)
Near the top of the next page, Barzun violates the rule he has just stated:
Next is a typical situation which a practiced writer corrects “for style”

virtually by reflex action. . . . (p. 69)
Williams (1981) comments:
Now again, it is not the error as such that I am concerned with here, but
rather the fact that after Barzun stated the rule, and almost immediately
violated it, no one noticed—not Barzun himself who must certainly have
read the manuscript several times, not a colleague to whom he probably
gave the manuscript before he sent it to the publisher, not the copy editor
74 RECONSIDERING WHAT COUNTS AS ERROR

who worked over the manuscript, not the proof reader who read the
galleys, not Barzun who probably read the galleys after them, apparently
not even anyone in the reading public, since that which hasn’t been
corrected in any of the subsequent printings. To characterize this failure
to respond as mere carelessness seems to miss something important, (p. 57)
One conclusion we can draw from this and other examples Williams cites
from the handbooks is that published writers do not necessarily follow the
rules in those handbooks. But as the preceding quote suggests, Williams is
even more interested in the fact that when published writers violate the
rules we have been teaching schoolchildren and college students, usually
no one notices! To make this point, Williams deliberately included about
one hundred errors in his own article, including some in the passage I have
quoted. As the errors became more frequent and more “serious,” I began
noticing more of them. However, I’m sure I did not notice anywhere near
a hundred errors.
If we rarely notice (much less challenge) the “errors” in published
writing, perhaps we should reconsider how we read and respond to stu¬
dents’ papers. English teachers have traditionally been encouraged and even
trained to look for errors in students’ papers (and in my experience of
teaching preservice teachers, many of them are inclined to “correct” lan¬
guage features that are not even considered errors in the handbooks).
Traditionally, the reading of students’ papers has been an “error hunt,” not
an attempt to appreciate what the writer has said and how he or she has
said it. No wonder many students have come to hate writing!
Williams implies, of course, that we should not be more judgmental
about student writing than we are about published, professional writing.
Surely this is a reasonable attitude.
Handbook Prohibitions and Stylistic Effectiveness
When we move from handbook prohibitions to examining the usage of

published writers, we are moving from grammar to rhetoric. As Francis
Christensen has written, “Grammar maps out the possible; rhetoric narrows
the possible down to the desirable or effective” (Christensen and Christen¬
sen, 1978, p. 61).
In Notes Toward a New Rhetoric (1967; expanded as Christensen and
Christensen, 1978), Christensen has examined professional writing to de¬
termine what kinds of constructions professional writers have used in

making their writing effective. Most of us have heard or read the handbook
rule of not starting a sentence with and or but. What Christensen found,
though, was that in the expository writing of professionals, sentences began
with a coordinating conjunction (most commonly and or but) 8.75 percent
of the time, while in narrative writing sentences were so linked 4.55 percent
of the time (1967, pp. 50-51). In other words, nearly one out of nine
sentences in informative writing began with and or but, or with a word that
functions in the same way. Why, then, should we try to eradicate such usage
from student writing? In so doing, we are actually teaching students not to
write like published authors.
Something else published writers do is make judicious use of comma
splices. That is, they occasionally use just a comma to join two or more
clauses that are both grammatically complete. Irene Brosnahan (1976) has
characterized the conditions that seem to govern the use of comma splices
in effective writing: (1) The style of discourse is general or informal; (2) the
sentences are short, and usually parallel in structure; (3) rhetorically,
the sentences convey rapid movement or emphasis; and (4) semantically,
the punctuated sentence cannot be ambiguous, and the relationship be-
tween the grammatically complete sentences is one of paraphrase, repeti-
tion, amplification, opposition, addition, or summary (see Figure 4.9). By
trying to eradicate these kinds of comma splices from our students’ writing,
we may have prevented them from using some constructions used effectively
by professional writers.
Another way in which we may have prevented or retarded students’ de¬
velopment into rhetorically effective writers is by telling students never to
punctuate a grammatically incomplete group of words as a sentence. In
other words, we have prohibited what the grammar handbooks call frag¬
ments. What some handbooks don’t mention, though, is that effective writ¬
ers often use fragments judiciously. It may be true that certain kinds of
fragments rarely find their way into professional writing, but other kinds do.
In fact, some fragments are so accepted in formal professional writing that
Kline and Memering (1977) call them minor sentences rather than frag¬
ments. They divided the fragments they found in formal writing into two
major categories, independent and dependent. In Figure 4.10 (see pages
78-79), I have added examples for most of the fragments in the independent
category, since Kline and Memering did not provide many. However, the
examples of dependent fragments come from the professional writings that
Kline and Memering examined as a basis for their categorization. For greater
clarity, I have used categories that are more semantic than syntactic, though
Kline and Memering provide both. Careful examination of these categories
76 HANDBOOK PROHIBITIONS AND STYLISTIC EFFECTIVENESS

FIGURE 4.9 Effective comma splices in published writing (Brosnahan, 1976). All but
the first example were found in Brosnahan’s article.
SEMANTIC OCCASIONS EXAMPLES

FOR EFFECTIVE COMMA
SPLICES
1. Paraphrase Their meeting was clandestine, it was completely
secretive.—Connie Weaver
2. Repetition This was bad, admittedly this was bad.—Fielen
Bevington
3. Amplification In the morning it was sunny, the lake was
blue.—D. PE Lawrence
4. Opposition The Director was permanent, the General was
temporary.—N avasky
5. Addition School bores them, preaching bores them, even
television bores them.—Arthur Miller
6. Summary Handbook writers should admit it, teachers
should teach it, students should learn
it.—Irene Brosnahan
They clambered up the grass, they clutched at
each other, little ones rode on big ones.—John
Steinbeck
and examples will show that the kinds of fragments found in my study of
fragments in the writing of elementary school children are used for effect
in the writings of professionals. Why shouldn’t they be used to good effect
by our students as well? Consider, for instance, the following passage from
college student Lisa Lehman’s narrative about kissing her boyfriend in the
sixth grade:
We had a music class, which was our favorite class because we got to
choose our seats and we always sat next to each other. Perhaps I was feeling
extra saucy that day, perhaps my nerve had finally healed, perhaps it was
my destiny. I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that when the office
aide knocked on the door distracting the teacher and half the class, I closed
my eyes, puckered my lips and laid my first kiss smack dab in the middle
of his cheek.
Sparks. I saw them before I opened my eyes. Not the Fourth of July
fireworks display, but a subtle, slow haze of sparks crowning the darkness
of my closed eyes, trickling down until the entire lid was aglow. Yet the
spark didn’t stop with my eyes. It was like someone had squashed a
lightning bug in between his cheeks and my lips and all the electricity
flowed between us. I opened my eyes to see my chapstick imprint on his
flaming cheek. The deed was done.
“Did you have to do that now?” was all he said. Not quite the response
I was looking for.

FIGURE 4.10 Effective minor sentences (Kline and Memering, 1977). Of the examples
in the independent category, only the two marked with asterisks were found in their
article. In each quotation within the dependent category, Kline and Memering added
italics to highlight the minor sentences.
MINOR SENTENCES EXAMPLES

(FRAGMENTS)
Independent
1. Imperatives, Run!
exclamations, Excellent!
one-word Why?
interrogatives,
and one-word answers Absolutely.
2. Ellipsis-based units That is Meyer’s computer. His alone.
(missing article,
possessives)
3. Literary Oh, for summer.*
4. Phatic (in speech) Oh, great.

Uh-huh.
Yeah, yeah.
5. Nominal, adjectival, Spring. Rain falling, grass greening, flowers
or adverbial blooming. A young man’s fancy. A young
phrases not in the woman’s, too.
dependent category
6. How and what How convenient!
constructions What a shame.
7. Subjectless, Just to get away.*
nonimperative, Only five, so far.
nonelliptical units
Dependent
8. Negation (not or no) Emily Dickinson’s poems, because they have
such tension, are much more authentically in
the metaphysical tradition than Emerson’s are.
Not, however, that many of the values were not
hers also. . . .—F. O. Matthiesen, American
Renaissance
9. Comparison They then determined the number of these

unrelated words recalled when the subject
attempted to repeat the sentence and the
sequences of words. The more words recalled, the
less memory used to store the sentence. The fewer
words recalled, the more memory used to store the
sentence.—Noam Chomsky, “Language and the
Mind”

FIGURE 4.10, continued.
10. Afterthought and It is possible, to be sure, that a thing precisely

addition observed can be poorly rendered. Or that it may
be poorly received by the reader.—John Ciardi,
“The Art of Maxine Kumin,” Saturday Review
11. Clarification I am sure no other civilisation, not even the
(dependent Roman, has showed [sic] such a vast proportion
clauses, of ignominious and degraded nudity, and ugly,
appositives, other squalid, dirty sex. Because no other civilization has
adjectivals or driven sex into the underworld, and nudity to the
adverbials) w.c.—D. H. Lawrence, Pornography and
Obscenity
12. Elimination of So what was missing from little Saalbach on

redundancy that bright February morning? Snow. Schnee.
through elliptical The same thing missing from so many other Alpine
clauses and phrases ski resorts this winter.—David Butwin, “Booked
for Travel: The Pleasant Slush of Saalbach,”
Saturday Review
The spirit of the long-vanished Roman Empire,

revived by the Catholic Church, returned once
more to our Island, bringing with it three
dominant ideas. First, a Europe in which
naturalism or even the conception of nationality had
no place . . .—Winston Churchill, The Birth of
Britain
It seems to me that the fragments (and the comma splice sentence) make
this passage more effective, not less. The writer’s grammatical versatility
approaches that of published writers.
Younger writers, too, can make effective use of fragments, as exemplified
by the fourth grader who wrote “A superduper awesome machine,” said Bob.
Sam for short. Following is another example, this time from a high school
sophomore, Brooke. In revising her first draft, she has added two fragments
to her introduction:
Julie watched Omar stroll lazily down the hall and laughed. Fie was a funny
looking guy; tall and skinny with funny ears and a big nose. Fde was the
type of guy who would flirt with any girl who would listen. Sex was his
number one priority, but still Julie couldn’t help but feel attracted to him.
She and almost every girl he met. Although it seemed almost impossible,
Omar seemed he was ready to settle down. And even more impossible, settle
down with Julie.

FIGURE 4.11 References for teaching grammar as style.
GRAMMAR AND STYLE

Christensen, F., & Christensen, B. (1978). Notes toward a new rhetoric: Nine
essays for teachers (2nd ed.). New York: Elarper & Row. Relevant research
and some teaching suggestions.
Gibson, W. (1968). Persona: A style study for readers and writers. New York:
Random House. For secondary school as well as college writers and teachers.
Green, J. L. (1969). Acrobats, plowmen, and the healthy sentence. English
Journal, 58, 892-899.
Kolln, M. (1991). Rhetorical grammar: Grammatical choices, rhetorical effects. New
York: Macmillan. More on grammar than on rhetoric.
Love, G. A., & Payne, M. (Eds.) (1969). Contemporary essays on style: Rhetoric,
linguistics, and criticism. Glenview, IL: Scott, Foresman. Analysis of styles.
Rice, S. (1993). Right words, right places. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Emphasizes
rhetorical effects of grammatical choices.
Romano, T. (1988). Breaking the rules in style. English Journal, 77, 58-62.
Shows some of Weathers’s options as used by high school students.
Weathers, W. (1980). An alternate style: Options in composition. Portsmouth, NH:
Boynton/Cook. The basis for Romano’s experiments in teaching style.
Williams, ]. M. (1990). Style: Toward Clarity and Grace. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
FROM GRAMMAR TO STYLE THROUGH SENTENCE COMBINING

Daiker, D. A., Kerek, A., & Morenberg, M. (1990). The writer’s options:
Combining to composing (4th ed.). New York: Harper & Row. Textbook for
college writers.
Killgallon, D. (1987). Sentence composing: The complete course. Portsmouth, NH:
Boynton/Cook. Textbook for high school writers.
Strong, W. (1986). Creative approaches to sentence combining. Urbana, IL:
ERIC/RCS and the National Council of Teachers of English. Professional
reference for teachers.
While I might still suggest a couple of changes to this writer, I would not
suggest eliminating the fragments—nor did her teacher, who considered the
fragments effective.
Why, then, should we fervently try to eradicate all fragments from our
students’ writing? Wouldn’t it be better to become more aware ourselves of
what makes a fragment effective, and to help students eliminate only those
fragments that are genuinely unclear or ineffective? The minor sentences
characterized by Kline and Memering (1977) either stand alone or relate
to an adjacent sentence, usually the sentence that comes before. In context,
they are clear. Kline and Memering proffer sound advice to teachers: “We

suggest as a general rule that ‘fragments’ will largely disappear if teachers
will read student papers rapidly, attending to the substance of the sentences”
(p. 109). In other words, we should read students’ work the way we read
the published writing of professionals. If we do, our students should have a
better chance of becoming published authors beyond the classroom or
school.
Figure 4.11 lists some articles and books that can help us teach for
rhetorical effectiveness and style, rather than for a narrowly defined concept
of correctness. Some books on sentence combining are included too, since
sentence-combining activities are the one kind of grammar exercise that,
more often than not, seems to have a positive effect on students’ sentences
(Hillocks and Smith, 1991). However, it is by no means clear that sen¬
tence-combining activities are any more helpful than direct guidance in
expanding, combining, and reorganizing sentence elements (Hughes, 1975;
Hartwell and LoPresti, 1985). In fact, as far as we know, directly helping
our students revise and manipulate sentences in their own writing may be
considerably more valuable than any sentence-combining activities we
could have them do and discuss.
Responding to Errors in More Constructive Ways
One of the problems with overreacting to error is that it stunts our students’
growth as writers. This was particularly true when teachers commonly
assigned one and only one draft of a piece of writing—in other words, when
the first draft was also the last. Under pressure not to make mistakes,
students have often written less interesting pieces of writing. For example,
McQuade (1980) reported that after he had taught a class in editing skills,
the students wrote essays that were much worse than the essays they wrote
at the beginning of the semester:
The essays in the first set are not spectacular. . . . The essays in the second
set, on the other hand, are miserable. Their principal method of organi¬
zation is a series of afterthoughts, and their sentences are awkwardly and
I believe self-consciously constructed to honor correctness above all other
virtues, including sense, (p. 29)
No wonder, then, that McQuade concludes: “No reduction of the number

of errors could be significant, I reasoned, when the post-course essays are
inferior in every other way to the pre-course essays” (p. 29).

If this were not enough to convince us to restrain the traditional red
pen, we might consider the following report from a teacher of English
(quoted in Farrell, 1971, p. 141):
My own research has convinced me that red'inking errors in students’

papers does no good and causes a great many students to hate and fear
writing more than anything else they do in school. I gave a long series of
tests covering 580 of the most common and persistent errors in usage,
diction, and punctuation and 1,000 spelling errors to students in grades
9-12 in many schools, and the average rate of improvement in ability to
detect these errors turned out to be 2 percent per year. The dropout rate
is more than enough to account for this much improvement if the teachers
had not even been there. When I consider how many hours of my life I
have wasted in trying to root out these errors by a method that clearly did
not work, I want to kick myself. Any rat that persisted in pressing the
wrong lever 10,000 times would be regarded as stupid. I must have gone
on pressing it at least 20,000 times without visible effect.
As I noted in Grammar for Teachers (Weaver, 1979), “There seems to

be little value in marking students’ papers with ‘corrections,’ little value
in teaching the conventions of mechanics apart from actual writing, and
even less value in teaching grammar in order to instill these conventions”
(p. 63).
Reconceptualizing the Writing Process
Over the last twenty or so years, there has been growing recognition that
we need to guide student writers through the processes used by success'
ful, published writers (Murray, 1985; Graves, 1975; Sommers, 1980; Flower
and Hayes, 1981; Calkins, 1983). Before they begin writing, those writ'
ing for publication frequently know for whom they want to write and, at
least in general terms, what they want to write or to write about. Even if
they are writing primarily for themselves, they are not usually writing just
to be writing. A period of incubation often precedes the actual writing: a
period lasting days, weeks, months, or perhaps just hours or minutes.
During this incubation period, writers may jot down notes, doodle, make
semantic webs or outlines, or mull things over in their heads while doing
the dishes or driving down the highway. Once they begin to write in
earnest, the writing process does not necessarily proceed smoothly, and it
82 RECONCEPTUALIZING THE WRITING PROCESS

FIGURE 4-12 Model of the writing process (Michigan State Board of Education, 1994).
PREWRITING DRAFTING REVISING PROOFREADING
Sharing with the

intended
audience
certainly does not proceed linearly in any simple way. That is, in the process
of producing a first draft, a writer often rereads and revises, does more
research, edits, jots down ideas for later paragraphs or sections, and so
forth. After thus producing a first draft, the writer may then reread, reorder,
add more information, cut out irrelevant parts. Some writers will revise
sentences and edit for appropriate language and grammar while writing a
first draft and again when making these larger revisions, but other writers
will reserve most of this activity for still another pass through the evolm
ing manuscript. Final proofreading usually combines with editing, or fob
lows it—but then again, it may begin when the writer is producing the first
draft.
The diagram in Figure 4T2 is an attempt to capture the complexity of
the writing process. The loops and the twoMirectional arrows are meant to
suggest that the phases of the writing process intertwine and overlap.
A first step toward dealing with errors more effectively, then, is to guide
students through the intermingled phases of the writing process. This
does not mean having students do prewriting on Monday, drafting on
Tuesday, revising on Wednesday, proofreading (or editing and proofread^
ing) on Thursday, and then “publishing” their writing by sharing it on
Friday. It means establishing a writers’ workshop in which writers can
work on pieces of writing in their own idiosyncratic way, at their own
pace. It means helping students with sentence structure and editing com
cerns when they are satisfied with the content and organization of their

FIGURE 4.13a Sophomore’s first draft.
Out day tofan. X kjm cic/m<j i/l /ny

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behiVi^ U/S and \jJt ‘bau) MlMP 3rwo^ coming oufa
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(johat rb co& brz>rK $o (ajs keff on df't/MCj
wonde/rho dhf rt u&> -frorri* l/dt <#u) (peqyle
on dbe okfaef sid* kht wad Zutrvidl^ gw*y
fyv on u$ Qftd kfl* juy /a dftriT of u£> U)4±
hyDwj ko u<>. So iot s\vfftd on kbt
$[&c of His ro^td and t>/ndse foiled oven dhi haxl
wjd jwm^d on\ of fat oar and on. r
&r jo HP h 'Pjaim. U/e failed Tfe -dh d^rrfmenf
Qnd put- Mu. -fort. oÂ~, My MW% o?r cok
-ftd'ixW r^ tx*T Ida I nsm ewe C^f^ruy'
fay'd -f>f tm/fhw Ms. D’m' °d er* dr^]
writing and ready to turn to more superficial matters. And it means serving
as an advocate, rather than an adversary: as editor, rather than as critic or
judge.
As an example of how teachers can guide students in revising their
sentences and editing their writing, see Figure 4.13, which includes the first
and sixth drafts of the introduction of a high school sophomore’s piece of
writing. Notice the much greater effectiveness of the later draft, which has
benefited from teacher Renee Callies’s help in putting the reader “there,”
using participial phrases to convey narrative detail, and using punctuation
conventionally. In a subsequent conference, she and the writer may still
consider whether one or both of the comma splices should be left as is or
eliminated. These are examples of the kinds of assistance teachers and peers
can offer, particularly when the writing is ready for revising at the sentence
level and for editing.
Figure 4.14 includes some books that can help teachers establish writers’
workshops in their own classrooms.

FIGURE 4.13b First paragraph of sophomore’s sixth draft.
Thu FUm»vi^ Eyi^w-u

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fin smum 7b Aufy } fit 7b q&DP
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"idJUt udUt Jwûme/?''
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f (TmaMMjQ Wl ^JiOAStL Hoad I Jtfa j£kbiAo^

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zd 7b Tmaa^ cfuual < 7Sin Ajk Tmawk!) jwuk , ckaaA
ikvu UA aAiAlJ CUvUÛJ^, JIaaTp^ j VM
Mcibd&d 7b ~ P*** ^fwA> ^vv JAua^ , TYI^J 'Anwryj^
Sotdhuf M\A~ Ik y^^WlAJ^. COvA
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■UMA MVWAG) Ao Jia#d& QmA 7b auA
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(fldt pf i$j) CM - A&tfo— fivud *7
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Jbb MU JUef , êvU ** 'xf
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dUmtrf Jsk uBiAA. |2Im | jÂAKjib op 77*

TamjcA ) (j/A Tdj JIom. (MtA aToaX^ 7d jjauT ov7~
Puj > lb)Adb HUy VMM <jljtrw*i XPurf~ OM. oj 7k

FIGURE 4-14 References for instituting writers’ and readers’ workshops.
ELEMENTARY AND MIDDLE SCHOOL

Avery, C. (1993). . . . And with a light touch: Learning about reading, writing, and
teaching with first graders. Portsmouth, NH: Edeinemann.
Calkins, L. M. (1994). The art of teaching writing. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
Earlier edition published 1986.
Calkins, L. M., & Harwayne, S. (1987). The writing workshop: A world of
difference. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Ideas and activities for staff
development.
Calkins, L. M., with Harwayne, S. (1993). Living between the lines. Portsmouth,
NH: Heinemann.
Graves, D. H. (1994). A fresh look at writing. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
Harwayne, S. (1992). Lasting impressions: Weaving literature into the writing
workshop. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
MacKenzie, T. (Ed.). (1992). Readers’ workshops: Bridging literature and literacy.
Toronto: Irwin.
JUNIOR HIGH AND SECONDARY SCHOOL

Atwell, N. (1987). In the middle: Writing, reading, and learning with adolescents.
Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
Foster, H. M. (1994). Crossing over: Whole language for secondary English teachers.
Orlando, FL: Harcourt Brace.
Rief, L. (1992). Seeking diversity: Language arts with adolescents. Portsmouth, NH:
Heinemann.
Romano, T. (1987). Clearing the way: Working with teenage writers. Portsmouth,
NH: Heinemann.
Romano, T. (1995). Writing with passion: Life stories, multiple genres. Portsmouth,
NH: Heinemann.
Strickland, K., & Strickland, J. (1993). UN-covering the curriculum: Whole
language in secondary and postsecondary classrooms. Portsmouth, NH:
Boynton/Cook.
Zemelman, S., & Daniels, H. (1988). A community of writers: Teaching writing in
the junior and senior high school. Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook.

Alternatives to the Error Hunt
The major way of avoiding the error hunt is to help students revise and
edit their writing while it is still in process. But what to do with errors in
drafts that have been submitted as final? Both these situations are dis¬
cussed here.
Teaching Final Revision and Editing/Proofreading

In helping students write, revise, and edit more effectively, teachers have
found a few techniques that are especially helpful. These include brief
mini-lessons explaining how to do something; individual conferences, from
one or two minutes in length to more extensive; and peer group editing
(provided the teacher has guided the students in learning how to do what
is expected). These techniques are basic to several of the suggestions here.
In her article “Developing Correctness in Student Writing: Alternatives to
the Error-Hunt,” Lois Rosen (1987) has culled suggestions from master
teachers and her own experience. In developing the following list I have
done the same, but the list draws heavily upon Rosen’s because the latter
is already such an excellent summary.
MAKE SURE THAT STUDENTS HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO READ DURING SCHOOL.
Students who read widely absorb a great deal about the writer’s craft from
their reading: a sense of the structure of different genres, vocabulary, gram¬
mar, spelling, and other aspects of mechanics. Having literature available
in the classroom also provides a handy resource for studying how writers
use and invent sentence structures and punctuation. Teachers may, in fact,
set aside time for readers’ workshop, as well as writers’ workshop.
MAKE SURE THAT STUDENTS HAVE PLENTY OF TIME FOR ALL PHASES OF THE
writing process. It may be helpful to develop not merely a readers’

workshop and a writers’ workshop, but a combined time for both. Reading
other published authors is, in fact, one of the best kinds of preparation for
writing. (See, for example, Calkins, with Harwayne, Living Between the
Lines, 1993.) When students are asked to carry a draft through to revision
and editing, it is important that they themselves have a purpose and an
audience for their writing (other than their teacher), and that they them¬
selves choose to “go public” with the writing, to “publish” it in some form,
even if publication only means displaying the writing in the classroom.

DEVELOP AND COLLECT RESOURCES i HAT ARE USEFUL FOR EDITING. Just
having literature available is a help. Other resources would include diction-
aries and thesauruses appropriate for the students, grammar handbooks (see
Figure 4.15), and editing checklists. Such checklists can be developed by
the teacher, but they are typically most helpful if developed by teacher and
students together. Even better is an individualized editing checklist, devel¬
oped with each student. For example, Figure 4.16 shows a checklist from
one of Mary Ellen Giacobbe’s first graders (1984). In their writing folders,
Giacobbe’s first graders kept a cumulative list of editing skills for which they
could take responsibility in editing their own writing. Giacobbe would teach
a child a new skill as the child’s writing revealed the need. When the child
could demonstrate the ability to apply this editing skill to his or her own
writing, the child and the teacher would agree it was time to add the skill
to the list. Then, if necessary, Giacobbe would remind the child to edit for
the things on the list, as a piece of writing neared completion. Such
individualized checklists can help writers of all ages.
model how to do something. For example, a teacher can model with

the entire class how to edit a paper. One way to do this is to share a piece
of your own writing that you have edited, or that a copy editor has edited
for publication. The example in Figure 4-17 illustrates what I would con¬
sider sentence revision, a step that often precedes editing for correctness;
however, both tasks are accomplished at the same time when a manuscript
is copyedited for publication. Sharing and working through changes like
this will help writers learn to revise and edit for clarity and not just for
conventions or correctness.
Another way to model sentence revision or editing is to ask a student’s
permission to put his or her paper on a transparency, then discuss it as a
class. It is important to always begin with what you and the class especially
like about the paper before turning to editing concerns and conventions.
Rosen’s (1987) suggestions are particularly helpful:
Once the class has had a chance to read the paper projected on the screen,
the teacher opens discussion by focusing on the content of the paper.
“What do you like about this paper?” or “What has the writer done well?”
are good questions to ask at this point. Then the teacher directs the
discussion to proofreading by asking, “Can anyone find something that
needs to be changed?”—a neutral question, suggesting error-correction is
a natural part of this stage in the writing process. As students identify and
correct individual errors, the teacher corrects each on the transparency,
88 ALTERNATIVES TO THE ERROR HUNT

FIGURE 4.15 References for recommended grammar texts and reference books.
HIGH SCHOOL AND COLLEGE

Belanoff, R, Rorschach, B., & Oberlink, M. (1993). The right handbook: Grammar
and usage in context (2nd ed.). Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook. This book is
refreshingly honest about how the language is actually used by educated people, as
opposed (sometimes) to what the usual handbooks prescribe. Designed as an aid
for writers, the book can also spark appreciation for the richness and diversity of
language and an understanding of how language and language standards change.
Valuable and interesting for teachers and for students, especially at the college level.
Ebbitt, W. R., & Ebbitt, D. R. (1990). Index to English (8th ed.). New York: Oxford
University Press. This alphabetically organized index comes close to providing
everything you ever wanted to know about grammar—provided you can figure out
what headings to use. The book is particularly valuable for its honesty regarding
the degree to which certain words and constructions are and are not accepted—in
what kinds of writing, and by whom. The guide is not as unrealistically conservative
as some of the grammar handbooks on the market, nor yet so liberal that it provides
an inadequate guide to usage in the broadest sense. A valuable classroom or library
reference to have available for teachers and serious students of the language.
Glazier, T. F. (1994). The least you should know about English writing skills (Form B,
5th ed.). Fort Worth: Harcourt. Deals with just a few of the most persistent editing
problems. It has exercises and answers so students can check their own under'
standing. Therefore, it is useful for those motivated to teach themselves certain
conventions of edited American English. Suitable for junior high through college.
Gordon, K. E. (1993). The deluxe transitive vampire: The ultimate handbook of grammar
for the innocent, the eager, and the doomed (2nd ed.). New York: Pantheon Books.
The example sentences make the book highly entertaining to many students, even
though this book is not necessarily the best teaching tool. See also Gordon, The
new well-tempered sentence: A punctuation handbook for the innocent, the eager, and
the doomed (expanded and revised ed.), 1993, New York: Ticknor & Fields.
Hacker, D. (1991). The Bedford handbook for writers (3rd ed.). Boston: Bedford Books
of St. Martins Press. This book runs a close second to Troyka et al. in completeness
and clarity of its explanations. The instructor’s annotated edition provides valuable
references for further exploration. This higlvquality text is especially popular at the
college level, perhaps in part because there are so many ancillary materials available.
These include a bibliography of professional resources for teachers of writing, a
collection of background readings for teachers, a guide for writing tutors, and
various materials more directly linked to teaching with and from the Handbook
itself.

Hacker, D. (1995). A writer’s reference (3rd ed.). New York: St. Martin’s Press. For
simplicity, clarity, and ease of use, this handbook ranks number one. Its spiral
binding is a particular blessing for those who want a book to lie flat while they are
consulting it. However, the book is relatively conservative in its prescriptions.
Suitable for junior high through college.
Harris, M. (1994). Prentice Hall reference guide to grammar and usage (2nd ed.).
Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Harris’s explanations are unusually clear,
thanks to years of one-on-one tutoring in a university writing center.

York: Macmillan. Straightforward presentation of grammatical concepts and their
stylistic effects. Especially suitable for college level, or for precollege high school
students.
Lunsford, A., & Connors, R. (1995). The St. Martin’s handbook (3rd ed.). New York:
St. Martin’s Press. About four-fifths of this handbook focuses on grammar, mechan-
ics, and punctuation, but it does so in the context of writing.
Rice, S. (1993). Right words, right places. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Includes
wonderfully rich examples from literature and emphasizes the rhetorical effects of
language choices, not grammar for the sake of grammar. Particularly interesting to
students of literature and creative writers, this book seems most appropriate for
college students who are not easily intimidated by Rice’s thorough explanations.
Sebranek, R, Meyer, V., & Kemper, D. (1990). Writers Inc. (2nd ed.). Burlington,
WI: Write Source. This compendium of information has an encyclopedic quality;
it includes information on various topics, grammar being only one of them. Suitable
for students from junior high through college, if they can make use of a text that
defines grammatical terms and concepts more than it explains them.
Troyka, L. Q., with Dobie, A. B., & Gordon, E. R. (1992). Simon & Schuster
handbook for writers (3rd ed.). Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Of the various
books listed here, this one is by far the most complete in its treatment of grammar,
with a lot of insights rarely found in other books. The format is inviting and easy
to read; the annotated instructor’s edition is a wonderful resource of ideas for
explaining grammatical concepts clearly. Most suitable for teachers and others
seriously interested in understanding the structure of English and ways of explaining
that structure effectively.

ELEMENTARY AND MIDDLE SCHOOL/JUNIOR HIGH

Kemper, D., Nathan, R., & Sebranek, R (1995). Writers express: A handbook for
young writers, thinkers, and learners. Burlington, WI: Write Source. Suggested for
grades 4 and 5, this book—like Writers Inc.—has a useful reference section (maps,
historical time line). Fiowever, the major focus is writing and the writing process.
A chapter titled “The Proofreader’s Guide” deals with punctuation, spelling, and
mechanics.
Sebranek, R, Meyer, V., & Kemper, D. (1995). Write source 2000: A guide to writing,
thinking, and learning (3rd. ed.). Burlington, WI: Write Source. Suggested for grades
6-8 but also for “students of all ages,” this book is similar to the one just listed, but
it has more—more of everything, including a rather complete “Yellow Pages Guide
to Marking Punctuation.”
Of course I make no claim to having examined all the grammar handbooks and
chosen the best, but, on the other hand, I have selected these from among quite a
few that were examined. Some readers may note that Warriner’s English Grammar
and Composition series (1986) is not included in this list, nor is the single handbook
Warriner’s High School Handbook (1992). A far better reference tool for high school
and even junior high students is Diana Fiacker’s A Writer’s Reference.
FIGURE 4-16 Editing checklist from a first grader (Giacobbe, 1984).
'Things I Can Do
i PI fjin a n
^•RAfirdfiE DAtT
t
H.UCi5 WG*
SUOUJS *5.
L u <A& • iCPerdS)
7. <ju>u*S eo.
g. U.0^5 “ i)
9. \~\ouj.5 • <r\ Sro.0 o-f aru

FIGURE 4.17 Excerpts from copyedited manuscript (Little, 1994). Typically the copy
editor has tried to revise the sentences so they are less wordy or they read more smoothly.
Each student had an
fpr
individualized folder where ho/she would recordêach day's
^ r rn *4
goals and accomplishments and^wiiti'iL I Would write comments/
encouraging remarksând suggestions for further exploration
or inquiry by the student. ADHD students have difficulty
monitoring and scheduling, so accounting for daily, even
hourly*progress was one way to help them accomplish their
goals. , . k
SWcv'-b . a ho^cioorR
Homework was often begun and completed within the
i ^ .. ii ■ A
classroom frameworkAwhere immediate feedbaclg nnn 1 H
^•eceivod. When s did take work home, this vre»-
generallyâ?<rri Tr »hîr own interest or desire to continue
or extend a project or assignment begun in the
classroom.
ADHD students seem to do better with consistent
routines, an offer of choice in participation of activities,
and careful monitoring of their work with immediate positive
feedback. OrganiraffiLn-nf the classroom with predictable

-*|0^4 UJifil A .
frameworks an»m an overall school_,struc_turing -whicfr~help$ to_
cra^niT-S*
compensate for impulsivity and hyperactivity demand^c^n *'
greatly improve the ADHD students' chances of academic and
personal success.

giving a brief explanation of the reason for the correction, and also starts
a list on the chalkboard of kinds of errors identified: spelling, capital letters,
rumon sentences, etc. The teacher can point out errors the students don’t
identify and use this as an opportunity to discuss the error, or can stop
when the class has corrected all the errors it can identify. The final step
is for the students to apply this process to their own papers, using the list
on the board as a guide for kinds of errors to look for. (p. 65)
use editing workshops. Within the time block used for writers’ (or
readers’ and writers’) workshop, it may be helpful to set aside time at least
once or twice a week for an editing workshop for those students who are
ready to edit and have help with editing. The teacher can skim a student’s
paper briefly and call attention to whatever editing skills need attention,
making sure to suggest only one or two at a time. Students can be clustered
in groups to use the editing resources and to help each other.
TEACH MINI-LESSONS TO THE ENTIRE CLASS, PERHAPS DURING EDITING WORK'
shops. As explained in detail in Nancie Atwell’s In the Middle (1987),

mini'lessons are brief explanations of how to do something: how to write
effective leads to begin a piece; how to “show” rather than “tell”; how to
use quotation marks; and so forth. Because they are indeed brief (five or a
maximum of ten minutes), they can be offered to the whole class. However,
the teacher can also teach a mini'lesson to a group of students who all seem
to need the same kind of help, or, of course, to individual students. (See
Chapter 6 in the present book for a fuller characterization of mini'lessons.)
HOLD MINI'CONFERENCES WITH INDIVIDUAL STUDENTS. During writers’

workshop or during a special editing workshop time, the teacher can help
individual students by pointing out what kinds of matters need attention,
by perhaps referring the writer to his or her editing checklist, by demon'
strating how to use a grammar handbook or other resource, by demonstrat'
ing how to revise or edit for something the writer does not yet understand
or cannot do independently, by suggesting that a writer confer with a peer
who has already mastered something the writer does not know how to do,
and so forth. For example, Figures 4.18a and 4.18h include excerpts from
two students’ papers, along with teacher Amy Berryhill’s explanations of
how she interacted with the writers during writers’ workshop. Notice how
she varied her responses to meet the different needs of the writers and their
writings.

FIGURE 4.18a First draft of Sherry’s introduction, her teacher’s comments on their
conference, and Sherry’s final draft.
R Ta ccni.o\ ■
PROPAGANDA
In the world today media controls most -thi np^—people do
rvrcwi
If the world
did not have the media to persuade it most big business would not
exist today. The
ing on what
companies go after many different audiences depending
type of prpduct they are se,14ing,. ^JeJephqne cgmpan COCYl
tend li r- fiWwPI i nr^ | r ■ ■ ■ t-

o
stereotypically^^rift) the ones who talk on the phone. The three fyVU^yc^
advertisers in the telephone industry are MCI, AT&T, and Sprint.
These three have a tendency to use any tactic possible to get
people to change to their company. The American population has a
habit of going after anything that is free or that
promises to save that person money.
Teacher’s comments:
In our first conference witFi this “Propaganda” draft, Sherry pointed to the
first paragraph and asked, “Do you think I should reword this parti” My
standard response is this: “Yes, I think you could word it a little more
gracefully. Play around with the wording and see if you like the changes.”
For Sherry, this was enough! She herself initiated these sentence-level
changes. This is a wonderful example of general revision for clarity. Sherry
eliminated the vague phrase “things people do” and replaced it with
“people’s actions and emotions.” She also recognized that “people” was
used too frequently in the first few sentences, and her instinct to vary her
word choice by substituting “society” and “others” shows me that she’s got
a good ear for the music of the language. Next, Sherry decided to eliminate
these sentences because, although they were more specific than they had
been originally, they still didn’t improve the clarity of her introductory
idea.
Sherry also did a wonderful job combining the following two sentences:
“The three advertisers in the telephone industry are MCI, AT&T, and
Sprint. These three have a tendency to use any tactic possible to get people
to change to their company.” The resulting combined sentence is much
more effective: “MCI, AT&T, and Sprint, the three main telephone
companies have a tendency to use any tactic possible to get people to
change to their company.” If we had conferred one more time about this
piece of writing, I would have praised her combining of the sentences and
demonstrated the need for a comma after companies, to finish setting off
the free modifier. Amy Berryhill
FIGURE 4.18a, continued.
PROPAGANDA
In the world today media controls most _peoplje_!_s_ actions and
emotions. If the world did not have the media to persuade it
most big business would not exist today. The companies go after
many different audiences depending on what type of product they
are selling. Telephone companies, for example, generally tend to
direct their advertisments towards the female audience because
stereotypically they are the ones who talk on the phone. MCI,
AT&T, and Sprint, the three main telephone companies have a
tendency to use any tactic possible to get people to change to
their company. The problem occurs because the American
population has a habit of going after anything that is free or
that promises to save that person money. J)kerry S^dehe^)
help students learn to edit. Many of us simply reread our writing from
beginning to end as we edit. However, writers who do not easily catch their
mechanical errors may be helped by a specific strategy. One widely used
strategy is to read one’s writing aloud, looking and listening for errors—or
to read the writing into a tape recorder, then play it back while following
along in the written text. Another method is to read one sentence at a
time from the bottom of the paper up, to focus attention on sentence-level
errors rather than on the meaning of the piece. Rosen lists still other
strategies for eliminating errors from a near-final draft (p. 67).
HAVE STUDENTS HELP EACH OTHER EDIT AND PROOFREAD. This should be
done only when the habit of proofreading and procedures for proofreading
are well established—through the teacher’s modeling this with the whole
class and with individuals, in one-on-one conferences. Rosen’s (1987)
explanation of her own procedures is again helpful:
When I do this with my own students, both basic writers and average
freshmen, I usually put students in pairs after each has had a chance to
proofread his or her own paper. The only rule I impose is that no correc-

FIGURE 4.18b First draft of Grant’s introduction, his teacher’s comments on their
conference, and Grant’s final draft.
& 01
When your watching T.V. hundreds of commercials come on
everyday. The next time you see a movie commercial pay close
attention to it. I'm sure when you see the commercial you
probabl^ see your favorite actor, and automotically.,
Your interested. It is an avertisers job to make the viewer
convinced about their product. They go out of their way to
get money. Commercials always have a slogan, or something catchy
to make you remember what was said. Celebrities are what make
the sales. Statistics show that when cecebrities promote
Teacher’s comments:
Grant used “convinced” in the rough draft of his paper, but in the second
draft, when he was concentrating on creating a smooth and clear intro-
duction, he didn’t catch the newer but simpler error: “conviiced.” In
response, I urged him to give this paper one final edit before adding it to
his portfolio. I reminded him both to use a spell checker and to check
carefully himself for homonyms such as break/brake, vain/vein, or
there/their/they’ re. Amy Berry hill
p f C V i <£ W-$
When your watching T.V., hundreds of commercials come on
everyday. The next time you see a movie commercial pay close
attention to it. I'm sure when you see the commercial you
probably see your favorite actor, and automotically Your
interested. It is an advertisers job to make the viewer conviiced
about their product. They go out of their way to get money.
Commercials always have a slogan, or something catchy to make
you remember what was said. Celebrities are what make the sales.
Statistics show that when celebrities promote products, sales
tend to rise. Movies are a waste of money and time. fSrot h

tions are to be made on the writer’s paper without the knowledge and
consent of the author. This means both writers must confer over any error
on either paper and both must agree on the correction. [Grammar hand'
books can be especially useful at this point.] I also ask that the editor initial
all corrections he or she finds, which gives me some sense of the mechani'
cal skills both the writer and the proofreader bring to the paper, (p. 66)
When the two writers cannot agree, Rosen helps by teaching them a
mini'lesson on the topic in question. Students can also be grouped in threes
or fours, with the stipulation that each group member will read all the
papers and work with the author to correct any errors found. Of course, it
helps if each group includes someone who is especially good at spelling and
mechanics.
Although the body of research supporting such alternatives to the error
hunt is still slim, the available research does suggest that editing skills are
best taught as students are revising and editing a piece to be, in some sense
or another, “published” (see Chapter 6).
Responding to a “Final” Draft

For teachers, one persistent question is always what to do with, to, or for
a “final” draft that still has errors. Here are some possibilities.
don’t do anything about the remaining errors. Rosen (1987) calls

this “benign neglect” (p. 67). She points out that this is an appropriate way
to respond to journal writing and early drafts, in particular. For students
whose previous writing instruction has focused heavily on “correctness,”
such a hands-off policy may be especially important, even in final drafts.
But many teachers follow a hands-off policy for at least some final drafts,
especially if the writing is not being sent to an unknown audience.
respond only to selected kinds of errors. Some teachers announce

in advance that only certain kinds of errors will be marked (usually no more
than two or three kinds). Of course, such selective marking focuses on the
particular kinds of errors that the teacher has tried to help students learn
to eliminate from final drafts.
PUT A CHECK MARK IN THE MARGIN OF LINES WHERE THERE IS AN ERROR,
AND INVITE THE WRITER TO FIND AND CORRECT THE ERROR(s). This Works
only if the writer already understands the kind of error in question, or can
get help from someone who does. In other words, it works best with kinds
of errors that the writer already understands, but has just missed in proof-

FIGURE 4-19 Published story by three first graders.
On Sunday, the lawn mower broke.

b/ Andrew Siraujf)
Mrs. Strawn said, “What will I do?”
Brian Homer. Gusi~Hiir
Af'c/ia.e/ Qoujee.
On Monday, she used scissors hut On Tuesday, she used a knife but it was
the lawn was too big. a plastic knife and it broke.

FIGURE 4.19, continued
.S’ ^
On Wednesday, she bought a goat but it On Thursday, she used a tractor but it
died. got stuck on a boulder.
— 7^-t; y; > $
**- .i ; » • A «■
\T
On Friday, she used a boomerang but it On Saturday, she fixed her lawn mower.
got stuck in the trees.

FIGURE 4.20 “Errorwocky.” After Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky.”
Errorwocky
’Twas class time, and the eager youths

Did squirm and wriggle in their seats:
All ready were their fresh ideas,
And their paper was clean and neat.
“Beware the Error beast, my friends!

The jaws that bite, the claws that rend!
Beware the Run-on bird, and shun
The frumious frag(a)ment.”
They took their eraser tips in hand;

Long time the maxome foe they sought—
Then rested they from the Error hunt,
And wrote awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought they wrote,

The Error beast, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through their ballpoint pens,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And back and forth

The eraser tips went snicker-snack!
They left it dead, and to their teach,
They went galumphing back.
“And have you slain the Error beast?

You’ll pass this year, victorious youths!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
She chortled then, in truth.
Twas class time, and the stunted youths

Did slouch and huddle in their seats:
All shortened were their sentences,
And their words had met defeat.
Connie Weaver
reading. It also helps if the writing has been done on a computer and the
writer can easily make one more final draft.
COMMENT ON THE ONE OR TWO MOST NOTICEABLE KINDS OR PATTERNS OF
error, and invite further scrutiny. For example, a teacher might

write, “You have several errors in subject-verb agreement in this paper,
including this one. Why don’t you see if you can find the other instances

and correct them?” Again, this is especially helpful if the writing has been
done on a computer and it is easy for the author to correct the errors and
to print out a new “final” draft. Such response is especially meaningful if
the writing is going to be published beyond the classroom.
SERVE AS A COPY EDITOR: CORRECT THE ERRORS FOR THE WRITER. This Can
be especially helpful when the writing is being prepared for publication

beyond the classroom. For example, a teacher may mark all the remaining
errors for correction when the piece can easily be edited on a computer.
Or, an elementary grade teacher or aide or parent may type a story that
children have written in invented spelling, correcting the spelling, punc-
tuation, and other mechanical features as they type. Figure 4.19 (pages
98-99) shows a story written by three first graders and then “published” in
a form that classmates and future first graders would be able to read—
namely, with (mostly) conventional spelling and punctuation.
Taming the Error Beast
In conclusion I would like to share with readers my poem “Errorwocky”

(see Figure 4-20), a variation on Lewis Carroll’s famed “Jabberwocky.”
To avoid stunting students’ growth as writers, we need to guide our
students in the writing process, including the phases of revising and editing
their sentences and words. It would also be helpful to avoid correcting the
kinds of constructions that published writers use with impunity and indeed
with good effect. And we need to respond positively to the new kinds of
errors that reflect syntactic risk and growth. Time enough to help students
correct these errors when they have gotten their ideas down on paper,
experimenting with language in the process. In short, the Error Beast is to
be welcomed and tamed, not slain.

5
Reconceptualizing the Teaching
of Grammar
We saw in Chapter 2 that empirical research does not support the

widespread belief or hope that teaching formal grammar systematically and
in isolation improves students’ writing, or even their ability to edit their
writing for conventions of grammar, punctuation, and usage. Some students
may indeed put to use the relevant aspects of what they are formally taught
about grammar, but if so, the research has not been finely tuned enough to
reveal this effect. Indeed, even in the research on the effectiveness of his
editing skills course, Finlay McQuade was not able to demonstrate that the
course had a positive effect on students’ standardized test scores, or that
students were significantly better editors of their own writing after taking
the course. In fact, some of the students who succeeded in his course were
later required to take a remedial course in the mechanics of writing, based
upon samples of their writing. Furthermore, his students’ post-test essays
were significantly worse overall than their pre-test essays, apparently be-
cause they were trying so hard to avoid errors.
There may be several reasons why the formal study of grammar does
not transfer very well to students’ writing. For example:
1. Much of what is traditionally taught—identifying parts of speech and

their functions in sentences, kinds of verbs and sentence types, and so
forth—has little relevance to writing itself. And to the extent that the
grammatical concepts taught are actually relevant to writing, they can often
be taught through examples, with incidental use of terminology. An ability
to analyze sentences systematically is not necessary.
102
2. The grammatical system is so complex that it is not easily learned or
well learned. Just one of the problems is that almost everything must be
defined and explained in terms of something else. Another problem is that
grammatical analysis is sometimes required of children before they are
capable of what Jean Piaget called “formal operational thought,” although
this objection (Sanborn, 1986) may have little relevance if children can
attach labels to grammatical patterns and rules they induce from examples,
much as they did in initially learning their native language. A related
problem, however, is that many children and adults are simply not very
analytic in their approach to learning. Such individuals have particular
difficulty learning to analyze words, sentences, and parts of sentences.
3. Many students find the formal study of grammar boring; therefore, they
do not really learn it. They may go through the motions of completing
grammar exercises and tests in such a way that they appear to have learned
the concepts, but appearance is different from the reality. Many exercises
in grammar texts can be completed with only minimal understanding of
the concepts. Indeed, many teachers themselves do not have a solid unden
standing of the grammatical concepts they try to teach, nor is this always
considered necessary by those who prepare the textbooks. I was once told
that it did not matter whether an exercise was too difficult even for most
of the preservice teachers in my grammar class, much less for the ninth
graders for whom it was intended. “The teachers will have the answers in
the teachers manual,” the editor said—as if having the answers were all
that mattered.
4. The grammar, even when learned, is not applied in writing situations

where it would be appropriate. There can be many reasons for this: perhaps
students have forgotten the relevant aspects of grammar, perhaps they do
not even think of their grammatical knowledge as something they should
draw upon in revising or editing, or perhaps they do not take time to edit
their work, or to edit it carefully and thoroughly. Worse yet, perhaps the
students are rarely asked to write anything more than a sentence, or an
occasional paragraph.
5. Perhaps the underlying learning theory is faulty. Traditional grammar

texts reflect a behavioral concept of learning, according to which learning
is equated with practice and habit formation. Practice exercises may be
adequate if all that is required is that students pass a test that is similar,
Reconceptualizing the Teaching of Grammar 103

but the application of grammatical concepts may require cognitive under'
standing that is not so readily gained through practice exercises. Krashen
(1993) points out, and 1 heartily agree, that much of what occurs in the
name of teaching language—especially grammar—amounts not to teaching
but to repeated testing, via the assigned exercises. Such testing-without-
teaching may not be enough for meaningful learning to occur.
Whatever the reasons, it is abundantly clear that the empirical research

does not support the belief that teaching grammar in isolation will typically
improve writing.
On the other hand, we saw in Chapter 3 that even before they enter
school, children acquire a functional command of grammar and virtually
all the grammatical constructions typical of oral discourse among older
speakers. Children “know” grammar, even though they don’t “know about”
grammar.
If our rationale for teaching grammar is primarily to improve students’
writing, then it would seem that a much more limited and more focused
treatment of grammar has a better chance of being effective. As we shall
see in Chapter 6, there is at least a modicum of research that offers support
for this hypothesis, though clearly more research would be valuable. Until
research produces results that are more conclusive one way or another, we
might reasonably expect our efforts to succeed best in two areas: in helping
students revise for “correct” or appropriate and effective grammar, punctua-
tion, and usage, and in helping them develop sentence sense, expand their
repertoire of syntactic structures, and employ an increasing variety of syn¬
tactic structures for rhetorical effect.
In other words, our efforts at teaching grammar should probably focus
on helping students revise and edit their writing, partly because whatever
is first learned during revising and editing may eventually be incorporated
into drafting, or into rehearsal for writing (e.g., Calkins, 1986, pp. 94-96).
This suggestion assumes a multiphase model of the writing process like that
in Figure 4.12.
Narrowing Our Focus and Limiting the Terminology
In Grammar and the Teaching of Writing, Rei Noguchi (1991) suggests that
we limit our teaching of grammar and grammatical terminology to only
those features that will be most valuable in helping writers eliminate errors
104 NARROWING OUR FOCUS AND LIMITING THE TERMINOLOGY

and increase the effectiveness of their sentences. With regard to errors, he
recommends focusing primarily on those that still occur relatively fre-
quently in the writing of college students in composition classes, and those
that seriously bother people who hold positions of power in the business
and professional community. The errors that should receive the most an
tention are those that meet both criteria. Noguchi bases his argument on
two research studies that I too discuss here.
After soliciting over 21,500 college composition papers from across the
country, Connors and Lunsford (1988) analyzed the frequency of errors in
a sample of 3,000 papers, chosen randomly from subsets of papers repre-
senting different regions, sizes of school, and types of school. After analyzing
the errors in 300 of these papers, they chose the top twenty kinds of errors
for further study in the sample of 3,000. These kinds of errors are rank'
ordered according to frequency in Figure 5.1.
It is interesting to note that only six of the twenty kinds of errors were
marked by the students’ classroom teachers more than 50 percent of the
time. The most frequent errors are not necessarily marked the most often;
in fact, Connors and Lunsford note that the most frequently marked errors
are often those that are easiest to mark and to explain. Other reasons for
the incomplete marking of various errors might include the following: (1)
Teachers may have felt that marking every error would be too intimidating
to students, that it might convey the impression that they were more
concerned about correctness than sense, and that it might discourage
students from focusing on meaning or taking risks as writers; (2) they may
have been unwilling to deflect their own attention from content by trying
to mark all the errors; (3) they may have been ambivalent about the value
of correcting errors (i.e., they may have realized or suspected that correction
of one paper does not often lessen the number of similar errors in subsequent
papers); or (4) they may have chosen to focus on one or two kinds of errors
at a time, either the easiest to mark, the seemingly most serious, or their
own pet peeves. Whatever the teachers’ reasons may have been, we cer-
tainly cannot assume that the most frequently marked errors are the most
frequently occurring errors or, in any sense, the most serious or stigmatizing.
A study by Hairston (1981) sought to determine what kinds of errors
are regarded as most serious by business and professional people—often
those in a position to make judgments about hiring and promotion of others.
She sent a sixty-six-item questionnaire (see Figure 5.2) to 101 individuals,
84 of whom returned it. About threeTourths of these people were over forty,
and most were between fifty and sixty years old. ThreeTourths were men.
The group represented sixty-three different occupations, such as state leg-

FIGURE 5.1 Frequency of errors and of teacher marking of errors in the Connors-Lunsford
(1988) study. Example sentences are from Hairston’s study (1981) or devised by me. Note that
some of the examples in categories 6, 13, and 14 would be typical of dialects like Black English
Vernacular. Connors and Lunsford did not try to differentiate between dialect features and
errors.
ERROR OR ERROR PERCENT OF PERCENT RANK BY

PATTERN RANKED BY TOTAL ERRORS MARKED BY NUMBER OF
PERCENT OF TEACHER ERRORS MARKED
TOTAL ERRORS BY TEACHER
L No comma after 11.5 30 2
introductory element:
Although the candidate is
new to politics she has a good
chance of winning.
2. Vague pronoun reference: 9.8 32 4
Visitors find it difficult to
locate the plant, which affects
business.
3. No comma in compound 8.6 29 7
sentence:
Charles drove the van and
Jean drove the truck.
4. Wrong word: 7.8 50 1
The interruption will not
effect my work. Your going
to love it.
5. No comma in 6.5 31 10
nonrestrictive element:
Tact not anger is the best
tactic in this case.
6. Wrong/missing inflected 5.9 51 5

endings:
Jones don’t think it is
acceptable. Yesterday we
walk home.
7. Wrong or missing 5.5 43 8

preposition:
The three men talked
between themselves. Look on
it this way. We went the
store.
8. Comma splice: 5.5 54 6

Never reveal your
weaknesses to others, they
will exploit them.

9. Possessive apostrophe error: 5.1 62 3

Our companys record is
exceptional. The secretary
claimed his’ rights had been
violated.
10. Tense shift: 5.1 33 12

The difficult part is if the
client refused to cooperate.
11. Unnecessary shift in person: 4-7 30 14

People should be more
careful. You should not start
a fire when it’s so dry.
12. Sentence fragment: 4.2 55 9

He went through a long
battle. A fight against
unscrupulous opponents. The
small towns are dying. One
of the problems being that
young people are leaving.
13. Wrong tense or verb form: 3.3 49 13

When Mitchell moved, he
brung his secretary. Then this
kid come up to me.
14. Subject-verb agreement: 3.2 58 11

When we was in the
planning stages of the project,
we underestimated costs.
Enclosed in his personnel file
is his discharge papers and
job references. All but one of
the words is spelled right.
15. Lack of comma in series: 2.7 24 19

We direct our advertising to
the young prosperous and
sports-minded reader.
16. Pronoun agreement error: 2.6 48 15

Everyone who attends will
have to pay their own
expenses.

17. Unnecessary comma with 2.4 34 17

restrictive element:
The dog, that bit my little
brother, should be
quarantined.
18. Run-on or fused sentence: 2.4 45 16

He concentrated on his job
he never took vacations.
19. Dangling or misplaced 2.0 29 20

modifier:
Having argued all morning, a
decision was finally reached.
There were pictures of
famous people who starred in
movies all over the walls.
20. It’s/its error: 1.0 64 18

Its wonderful to have
Graham back on the job.
islator, computer programmer, architect, travel agency owner, bank presi-

dent, newspaper columnist, realtor, oil company president, stockbroker, and
federal judge. The groups best represented in the survey were business
executives (six) and lawyers (seven). Only seven people were associated
with the academic world; none were English teachers, and four were ad'
ministrators.
The main sentences in Hairston’s directions were these: “What I would
like you to do is read through each sentence rather quickly and mark your
response to it. That is, if you encountered the sentences in a report or
business letter, would it lower your estimate of the writer, and how much?’’
The respondents were to choose among “Does not bother me,” “Bothers
me a little,” and “Bothers me a lot.” Each sentence was supposed to contain
one error, according to contemporary and sometimes conservative convene
tions for grammar, punctuation, and usage.
As Hairston was aware, one of the limitations of this study was that it
encouraged respondents to expect to find errors and to be bothered by them.
Thus the results do not necessarily reflect how these same individuals would
respond to the same errors in a business report or letter they were reading
for content and clarity. (See, for instance, Williams, “The Phenomenology
of Error,” 1981.) Second, Hairston points out that the respondents might

FIGURE 5.2 Sentences from Hairston’s (1981) study. Respondents were to indicate
whether the sentence “Does not bother me,” “Bothers me a little,” or “Bothers me a lot.”
There were originally 66 items, but one had to be omitted from the results because of a
typing error. Hence all the items from 8 on are numbered differently here than in
Hairston’s list. Contrary to what Hairston intended, sentence one is correct.
1. Extra copies will be provided for whoever needs them.

2. Tact not anger is the best tactic in this case.
3. He concentrated on his job he never took vacations.
4. Wellington said, Trains will just cause the lower classes to move about
needlessly.
5. The three men talked between themselves and decided not to fire the
auditor.
6. Never reveal your weaknesses to others, they will exploit them.
7. Everyone who attends will have to pay their own expenses.
8. Coventry is the most unique city in England.
9. People are always impressed by her smooth manner, elegant clothes, and
being witty.
10. Almost everyone dislikes her; they say she is careless and insolent.
11. The state’s hiring policies intimidate the applications of ambitious people.
12. The small towns are dying. One of the problems being that young people
are leaving.
13. Having argued all morning, a decision was finally reached.
14. If the regulating agency sets down on the job, everyone will suffer.
15. The situation is quite different than that of previous years.
16. A person who knows french and german will get along well in Switzerland.
17. It is late in his term and inflation is worse and no one has a solution.
18. Our companys record is exceptional.
19. The President dismissed four cabinet members among them Joseph Califano.
20. When Mitchell moved, he brung his secretary with him.
21. Three causes of inflation are: easy credit, costly oil, and consumer demand.
22. When a person moves every year, one cannot expect them to develop civic
pride.
23. We direct our advertising to the young prosperous and sports-minded reader.
24. The worst situation is when the patient ignores warning symptoms.
25. The army moved my husband and I to California last year.
26. He went through a long battle. A fight against unscrupulous opponents.
27. The lieutenant treated his men bad.
28. Sanford inquired whether the loan was overdue?
29. When the time came to pay the filing fee however the candidate withdrew.
30. The data supports her hypothesis.
31. Those are the employees that were honored.
32. Visitors find it difficult to locate the plant, which affects business.
33. Him and Richards were the last ones hired.
34. There has never been no one here like that woman.
35. These kind of errors would soon bankrupt a company.
36. My favorite quotation is, “Take what you want and pay for it.
37. The reporter paid attention to officers but ignores enlisted men.
38. If I was in charge of that campaign, I would be worried about opinion polls.
39. If Clemens had picked up that option, his family would of been rich.

40. Its wonderful to have Graham back on the job.

41. Calhoun has went after every prize in the university.
42. Next year we expect to send a representative to China (if Peking allows it.
43. Cheap labor and low costs. These are two benefits enjoyed by Taiwan-based
firms.
44- The difficult part is if the client refused to cooperate.
45. State employees can’t hardly expect a raise this year.
46. The supervisor has no objections to us leaving.
47. Although the candidate is new to politics she has a good chance of winning.
48. A convicted felon no matter how good his record may not serve on a grand
jury.
49. I was last employed by texas instruments company.
50. When leaving college, clothes suddenly become a major problem.
51. Enclosed in his personnel file is his discharge papers and job references.
52. The president or the vice-president are going to be at the opening
ceremonies.
53. To me, every person is an individual, and they should be treated with
respect.
54. Good policemen require three qualities: courage, tolerance, and dedicated.
55. The interruption will not effect my work.
56. I have always hoped to work in that field, now I will have the opportunity.
57. Senator javits comes from new york.
58. I believe that everyone of them are guilty.
59. That is her across the street.
60. Cox cannot predict, that street crime will diminish.
61. When we was in the planning stages of the project, we underestimated costs.
62. The union claims it’s rights have been violated.
63. The company is prepared to raise prices. In spite of administrative warnings.
64. Jones don’t think it is acceptable.
65. Man is not the only user of tools, apes can also learn to manipulate them.
have viewed this questionnaire as a sort of test of their own grammatical

knowledge. Therefore she concludes that while these professionals might
be less judgmental in reading day-to-day communications, they are certainly
not likely to be more judgmental. I agree.
Overall, on all but a few sentences, women checked a much higher
percentage of “Bothers me a lot.” This accords with other studies in which
women have been found to be more conservative than men in their
attitudes toward language use (e.g., Lakoff, 1975).
According to the frequency of the different responses, Hairston grouped
these errors into five categories: status marking, very serious, serious, moder¬
ately serious, and minor or unimportant. Curiously, there are two kinds of

errors (other than what we might call sheer carelessness) that Hairston
omits from these groups: errors in using the apostrophe with a possessive
(omission of apostrophe, or its inappropriate use in the possessive its or his,
etc.), and pronoun agreement errors (which Hairston discusses but does not
add to a group). In Figure 5.3, I have taken the liberty of placing both kinds
of errors in groups where they seem most appropriate, given the category
zations of similar patterns of response for other items.
The status marking errors, to which there was the greatest objec¬
tion, are typically the kinds of errors that would mark a person as not
speaking a so-called standard dialect of English, or what is less judgmentally
referred to as the Language of Wider Communication (Conference on
College Composition and Communication, 1988).
It is interesting to see which of the errors that Hairston’s respondents
considered status marking, very serious, or serious are among the top twenty
kinds of errors that Connors and Lunsford found in college students’ writing
(see Figure 5.4). Among their top twenty, we find only one kind of error
that may have included examples in the status marking category: lack of
subject-verb agreement. It is not clear, however, what to make of the result.
Does it mean that by college age, most students have virtually eliminated
status marking errors from their writing? Or that students who still use status
marking features in their writing are not being admitted to college, or at
least not going to college? Without more data, we really cannot tell.
However, Smitherman’s (1992) longitudinal study of dialect features in
students’ writing sheds some light on these questions. Basically, she found
that such status marking dialect features seldom occur in students’ writing
by the time they reach age seventeen. What we still do not know, however,
is the relative importance of different factors: the influence of the Language
of Wider Communication as modeled on TV, for instance, or as modeled
by teachers, peers, and others; the role of specific instructional attention to
eliminating such features; or the role of reading as a model. Clearly, reading
can be a powerful influence upon one’s acquisition and use of language
features (Perera, 1984; Elley, 1991; Krashen, 1993).
What else can we conclude by seeing where the errors most severely
disapproved of in Hairston’s study intersect with the errors most frequently
made in the Connors-Lunsford study? Perhaps that we need especially to
help students understand and be able to edit from their writing such errors
as fragments, run-ons (fused sentences), subject-verb agreement errors, and
dangling modifiers. Most teachers of writing may consider the comma splice
a serious error too, but the comma splice seems not to have disturbed the

FIGURE 5.3 Categorization of errors from Hairston’s (1981) study. I have added two
items to Hairston’s list. Based on the patterns in her raw data, I think that errors in the
use of the apostrophe in possessives warrant a rating of “serious,” and using the pronouns
they, them, or their to refer to everyone or to a person seems to warrant a “moderately
serious” rating.
STATUS MARKING SENTENCE NUMBER

(FIGURE 5.2)
Nonstandard verb forms in past or past participle: 20, 41
brurtg instead of brought; had went instead of had
gone
Lack of subject'verb agreement: We was instead of 61, 64

We were; Jones don’t think it’s acceptable instead of
Jones doesn’t think it’s acceptable.
Double negatives: There has never been no one here; 34, 45

State employees can’t hardly expect a raise.
Objective pronoun as subject: Him and Richard were 33

the last ones hired.
VERY SERIOUS
Sentence fragments: He went through a long battle. A 12, 26, 43, 63
fight against unscrupulous opponents. / The small
towns are dying. One of the problems being that young
people are leaving.
Run'On sentences: He concentrated on his job he never 3

took vacations.
Noncapitalization of proper nouns: Senator javits comes 16, 49, 57

from new york.
Would of instead of would have: His family would of 39

been rich.
Lack of subject'verb agreement (non-status marking): 51, 52, 58

Enclosed in his file is his discharge papers and job
references.
Insertion of comma between the verb and its 60

complement: Cox cannot predict, that street crime
will diminish.
Nonparallelism: People are always impressed by her 9, 54

smooth manner, elegant clothes, and being witty.
Faulty adverb forms: He treats his men bad. 27
Use of transitive verb set for intransitive sit: If the 14

regulating agency sets down on the job . . .

SERIOUS
Predication errors: The policy intimidates hiring. 11
Dangling modifiers: Having argued all morning, a 13, 50
decision was finally reached.
I as an objective pronoun: The army moved my 25

husband and I to California last year.
Lack of commas to set off interrupters like however: 2, 29, 48

When the time came to pay the filing fee however the
candidate withdrew.
Lack of commas in a series: We direct our advertising to 17, 23

the young prosperous and sports-minded reader.
Tense switching: The difficult part is if the client refused 37, 44

to cooperate.
Use of a plural modifier with a singular noun: These 35

kind of errors . . .
Possessive apostrophe error: Our companys record is 18, 62

exceptional. The union claims it’s rights have been
violated.
MODERATELY SERIOUS
Lack of possessive form before a gerund: The 46
supervisor has no objections to us leaving.
Lack of commas to set off an appositive: The President 19

dismissed four cabinet members among them Joseph
Califano.
Inappropriate use of quotation marks: My favorite 4, 36

quotation is, “Take what you want and pay for it.
Lack of subjunctive mood: If 1 was in charge of that 38

campaign . . .
Object pronoun form as predicate nominative: That is 59

her across the street.
Use of whoever instead of whomever: Extra copies will 1

be provided for whoever needs them. [But this use of
whoever is actually correct. It functions as the
subject of needs, while the entire clause whoever
needs them functions as the object of for.]
Use of the construction The situation is when . . . : 24

The worst situation is when the patient ignores
warning symptoms.

Failure to distinguish between among and between: 5

The three men talked between themselves.
Comma splices: Never reveal your weaknesses to others, 6, 56, 65

they will exploit them.
Use of they, them, or their to refer to everyone or to a 7, 10, 22, 53

person: Everyone who attends will have to pay their
own expenses.
MINOR OR UNIMPORTANT
Use of a qualifier before unique: Coventry is the most 8
unique city in England.
Writing different than instead of different from: The 15

situation is quite different than that of previous years.
Use of a singular verb with data: The data supports her 30

hypothesis.
Use of a colon after a linking verb: Three causes of 21

inflation are: easy credit, costly oil, and consumer
demand.
Omission of the apostrophe in the contraction it’s: Its 40

wonderful to have Graham back on the job.
professionals in Hairston’s study unduly—and indeed, comma splice sen¬

tences are used sparingly by professional writers (see Chapter 4). This
discrepancy reminds us of what Connors and Lunsford repeatedly note:
what is considered to be an error has differed from one decade to another,
and what seems like a serious error to one person—even to one English
teacher—may not bother other individuals just as well versed in prescriptive
or descriptive grammar. As Connors and Lunsford express it,
Teachers’ ideas about error definition and classification have always been
absolute products of their times and cultures. . . . Teachers have always
marked different phenomena as errors, called them different things, given
them different weights. Error-pattern study is essentially the examination
of an ever-shifting pattern of skills judged by an ever-shifting pattern of
prejudices, (p. 399)
We teachers need to remind ourselves that our preferences are in large

measure time-bound and experience-bound as we wield the editor’s blue
pencil and try to get our students to adopt our standards for Edited Ameri-

FIGURE 5.4 Comparison of error ranking in the Flairston (1981) and
Connors-Lunsford (1988) studies.
CATEGORY IN FREQUENCY RANK IN

HAIRSTON STUDY CONNORS-LUNSFORD STUDY
Status marking
Lack of subject-verb agreement: we Lack of subject-verb agreement is ranked
was; Jones don’t think 14, but we cannot tell what proportion
of the items fit Hairston’s status marking
category and what proportion fit her very
serious category.
Very serious
Lack of subject-verb agreement:
The president or the vice-president are
going to be at the opening ceremonies.
I believe that everyone of them are
guilty.
Sentence fragments 12
Run-on sentences 18
Serious
Dangling modifiers 19
Lack of commas to set off 5

interrupters like however
Lack of commas in a series 15
Tense switching 10
can English. A little humility won’t hurt, nor will a certain amount of
open-mindedness.
Following the line of Noguchi’s argument but not the details, I would
suggest that only a few of the frequently occurring errors in the Connors-
Lunsford study and only a few of the status marking, very serious, or serious
errors in Hairston’s study require for their elimination an understanding of
grammatical concepts commonly taught. And these few kinds of errors can
be understood by comprehending only a few grammatical concepts (see
Figure 5.5).
In short, the most critical concepts that need to be understood for
eliminating some of the most frequently occurring and most “serious” kinds
of errors are subject and verb (verb as predicate), independent (main) and

FIGURE 5.5 Basic grammatical concepts that need to be understood.
ERROR RANK IN CATEGORY IN REQUIRES

CONNORS' HAIRSTON UNDERSTANDING
LUNSFORD STUDY STUDY
No comma in 3 Subject and verb
compound Independent clause
sentence
Comma splice 8 Moderately Subject and verb

serious Independent clause
Sentence 12 Very serious Subject and verb

fragment Independent clause
Dependent clause
Phrase
Lack of 14 Status Subject and verb

subject'verb marking or
agreement very serious
Run'On or 18 Very serious Subject and verb

fused Independent clause
sentence
dependent (subordinate) clauses, and phrase. Of course, this does not quite
give the whole picture, as veteran grammar teachers know. For instance, in
order to distinguish between independent and dependent clauses, one needs
to recognize words that introduce dependent clauses and the two categories
of words that can introduce and connect independent clauses. In my
experience, however, the ability to recognize the category of these connec'
tors is all that’s needed: not the technical grammatical terminology, and
not the ability to analyze grammatical structures in detail.
In the ConnorS'Lunsford study there is another group of errors that
students can often learn to eliminate just by listening to their intonation
as they read a paper aloud. These items are category 1—no comma after
introductory element; category 5—no comma in nonrestrictive element;
and category 17—unnecessary comma with restrictive element. In the
Hairston study similarly recognizable errors include lack of commas to set
off interrupters like however and lack of commas to set off an appositive.
In addition or alternatively, these errors can be addressed through the
concept of the modifier and the free modifier (F. Christensen, 1967). A free
modifier is an optional modifying element that usually is movable within
a sentence and/or is set off by commas. Introductory elements, words like

however, appositives, and nonrestrictive elements are free modifiers that
need to be set off by commas. Modifiers that are not free are not set off by
commas, nor should they be.
Most of the other kinds of errors in both studies seem to be ones that
we can help students learn to eliminate simply through examples. Though
we ourselves may use grammatical terminology in explaining these exaim
pies, it does not seem necessary for students to learn these terms themselves
in order to see how to change what they have written to the structure or
form expected in Edited American English. In this category, I would put
the following items from the ConnorsAunsford study: vague pronoun ref¬
erence, possessive apostrophe error, tense shift, unnecessary shift in person,
pronoun agreement error, and dangling or misplaced modifier.
Like Noguchi, I would suggest that teachers focus on helping students
eliminate from the final drafts of their more formal writings the kinds of
items that are considered status marking or serious errors. However, the
errors that Hairston labeled status marking are typically ones associated
with different ethnic and community dialects of English, so extreme sensfi
tivity and caution are in order. (See in the Appendix the sample lessons
on appreciating such dialects and empowering students’ voices.)
It also seems sensible to help students eliminate the kinds of errors that
occur most frequently even in the writing of college students. And, at
whatever level we teach, we may want to do an analysis of our own students’
errors to decide which need the most attention. Among the preservice and
inservice teachers in my classes, the most frequent error is typically the
omission of the apostrophe from possessives. Other frequent errors are
ineffective fragments and comma splices, and the misspelling of common
homophones like their, there, they’re; your, you’re; and sometimes our, are.
Even would of and could of are not totally absent from their papers. There ^
fore, these are the items to which I typically give the most attention in
mini'lessons addressed to the whole class (see the Appendix for some
examples). However, only some of these matters require the understanding
of key grammatical concepts.
Some basic grammatical terms are illustrated in Figure 5.6, where parts
of a narrative are bracketed and otherwise marked. Here is my list and
definition of those terms:
• Clause: A subject^verb unit. (The term noun is useful, but the

concept of subject is more critical.)
Its muddy waters picked up speed.

FIGURE 5.6 Narrative with T-units, clauses, and free modifiers marked.
To illustrate the concept of a grammatical sentence, or T-unit, the first three

paragraphs of the narrative are divided into T-units, with square brackets
marking each T-unit. Fragments that do not fit into any T-unit are left
unbracketed.
To illustrate other grammatical terms, independent (main) clauses are
boldfaced, and dependent (subordinate) clauses are italicized. Some dependent
clauses function as nouns and therefore fill a slot in another clause. A
dependent clause is boldfaced as well as italicized if it fills a noun slot in
an independent clause; otherwise it is simply italicized. Other dependent
clauses commonly function as free modifiers, working more or less like an
adjective or adverb.
Some free modifiers—phrases rather than clauses—are boldfaced or
italicized, depending on whether they go with an independent clause or
with a dependent one. In addition, free modifiers are underlined.
In the last four paragraphs of the narrative, three kinds of free modifiers
are underlined and labeled (appositives, participial phrases, and absolutes);
the other free modifiers in these paragraphs are not underlined.
The Graveyard
“Oh, shit, NOT AGAIN!” [The words barely had time to flit through
my mind before the raft capsized for a second time, throwing me unceremonh
ously into the raging water.] [The raft had been swept over a modest
waterfall, landing off-balance in a holed [I gulped air in the split second
before a huge wall of water swamped me.] [The Indians’ Graveyard had me
in its gripd
[Early in the summer, it had seemed a great idea to sign up for a
whitewater rafting trip in Costa Rica.] [Rollie had been wanting to go
there]—[there were 500 exciting miles of whitewater, he told me]—[and
I was game, despite our little adventure in the Nantahala at high flood
stage the previous summer.] [True, we had to sign up for the advanced
kayak and rafter’s trip, because I couldn’t go any other time.] [But we
cheerfully sent in our $1000 deposit to the Nantahala Outdoor Center.]
[I wasn’t REALLY scared until one June day when I actually drove to the
Nantahala Outdoor Center in North Carolina—conveniently arriving, after a
full day’s drive across the state, just too late for the last rafting trip.] [Oh, well,
I said to myself:] [I can look at the rafting gear, see if there’s anything
we need for the Costa Rica trip.] [The friendly salesgirl was eager to
help me when I mentioned that we’d signed up for an Adventure trip in Costa
Rica.] [“I’d like to go there,” she exclaimed.] [She showed me a book
on Costa Rican rivers that I bought to take home to Rollie.] [And she offered

to show me a video on whitewatering in Costa Rica, as soon as some guys

were finished looking at rafting on the Colorado.]
Well—I’m not sure I should ever have watched that video. The most
frightening part was a long rapids on a river called the General. I’ve
repressed the rapids’ exact name, but it was something like “Fiell’s Run.”
And believe me, that’s what it looked like! I watched horrified as a raft
tackled the rapid, only to be buried among the waves. Could the raft still
be there somewhere, invisible, as wave after wave crashed over it? More
to the point, could the rafters still be in the raft? All I could think of was
how would they ever get you back into the raft if you got thrown out?
Then flying home from North Carolina, I read parts of the book on
Costa Rican rivers. That, too, was a mistake. The authors talked about
flash floods in the rainy season, describing an incident when a film crew
was making a commercial—Marlboro, I think—with an actor who’d never
been rafting but who looked the role of macho man, standing on a raft
firmly anchored in the middle of a rapid. Unfortunately the film crew
didn’t count on a five foot wall of water that suddenly attacked from
behind. The raft broke loose, carrying the actor downstream at incredible
speed. An expert kayaker followed to rescue him, but for a while it looked
as if they both were goners. This, the book said, was the kind of thing that
could happen on Costa Rican rivers in the rainy season. Of course, that’s
when our trip was scheduled.
About that time, I remembered that a psychic friend had suggested I
avoid whitewater rafting, hinting at death by drowning {participial phrase}.
And Rollie, a water lover since childhood {appositive}, had been warned
not to “go out too far.”
So on the third day of our trip, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the
flooding Paguare rose while we slept beside it for the night, its muddy
waters picking up speed as it swelled its banks {absolute}. Nor should I
have been surprised, I suppose, that we were now “going swimming” for
the second time.
But this time was worse than the first. The wall of water momentarily
crushed me, pushing me toward the bottom of the river {participial phrase}.
I surfaced quickly, grateful that this time, I had not come up under the
raft. Thank God! But then another wave engulfed me, driving me deeper
this time, much deeper, into blackness {participial phrase}. I dared not open
my eyes. Don’t panic, I thought, don’t panic, don’t panic, keep holding
your breath. Where, oh where is the surface, and sunshine, and AIR?
Surely this way is UP? Fleetingly I remembered what Rollie kept telling
himself when he was submerged in the Nantahala. I can’t send HIM home
alone either, I thought; gotta hang on, gotta wait ’till I surface to breathe.
Then, with a thwack, I hit the surface—the surface of the raft, that is: the

underneath surface. Safe, and not safe. My protesting lungs ready to betray
me {absolute}, I worked my way to the edge of the raft and popped out
from under, gasping for air {participial phrase}.
I’m not sure now which raft it was, the passenger raft or the oar rig that
carried our gear. But no one hauled me in. Eileen paddled over with her
kayak, telling me to hang onto the rope on the back—not the kayak itself,
the rope, the rope {participial phrase}! Then I realized why no one was
bothering to get me out of the river: they still hadn’t located Rollie. Eileen
was focusing on her watch, grimly counting the seconds he’d been under¬
water {participial phrase}. Too long. But just then he surfaced, thank God.
Someone hauled him into the oar rig, nearly scraping off his swim trunks
in the process {participial phrase}. If anyone noticed, no one cared. Eileen
ferried me to the passenger raft, dipping her paddle with sure skilled strokes
{participial phrase}, keeping us from continuing downstream {participial
phrase}. One of the guides—Miti, I think {appositive}—reached for me,
urging me to hoist myself over the side {participial phrase}. I couldn’t. The
rush of fear had left me absolutely limp, my arms and legs useless {absolute}.
Once hauled in, for the longest time 1 lay in the raft like an overturned
turtle, flat on my back, simply BREATHING. I knew Rollie was safe, but
I didn’t know until our group stopped downstream for lunch how much
deeper he had been pushed by the second wave, how much closer he’d
come to succumbing to the dark waters of the Indians’ Graveyard. It was
nearly his graveyard too.
Connie Weaver
• Independent (or main) clause: A clause that can stand alone as a

grammatical sentence.
The raft capsized for a second time.
• Dependent (or subordinate) clause: A clause that cannot stand
alone as a grammatical sentence.
before the raft capsized for a second time
that I bought to take home to Rollie
that the flooding Papuare rose
• Grammatical sentence (T-unit): An independent clause, plus any
dependent clause(s) or phrase(s) that are attached to it or
embedded within it. Each of the following sentences contains only
one Dunk—that is, one independent clause plus anything that goes
with it.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the flooding Paguare rose.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that the flooding Paguare rose while
we slept beside it for the night, its muddy waters picking up speed as it
swelled its banks.
I worked my way to the edge of the raft and popped out from under.
My protesting lungs ready to betray me, I worked my way to the
edge of the raft and popped out from under, gasping for air.
• Phrase: a group of words that does not have a complete
subject^verb unit.
early in the summer
to sign up for a whitewater rafting trip
hinting at death by drowning
its muddy waters picking up speed
• Modifier: One or more words that describe an entity or give more
details about an action. (The terms adjective and adverb are useful,
but not as critical as the concept of modification.)
Another wave engulfed me.
The huge waves completely obscured the raft.
The paddle floating downstream was Rollie’s.
Early in the summer, it had seemed like a great idea.
The video, which showed people whitewater rafting in Costa Rica,
scared me to death.
She offered to show me a video on whitewatering in Costa
Rica, as soon as some guys were finished looking at rafting on the
Colorado.
• Free modifier: As described by Francis Christensen (1967), the
free modifier is an optional modifier that meets at least one of
the following criteria, and often both: (1) it can be moved to at
least one other position in the sentence; (2) it is set off by
commas (or could be and possibly should be). Under “modifiers,”
the last three example sentences contain free modifiers that meet
one or both of these criteria.
Understanding these terms will enable writers to understand such frequently

prohibited constructions as the following (see the Appendix for lessons on
these concepts):
• Run-on (or fused) sentence: Two independent clauses with no

connecting word or punctuation between them.
Rollie didn’t dare breathe he was still underwater.

FIGURE 5.7 Poem with absolute constructions (1988).
A War Death
Shrapnel pounded into the dirt around me.

My buddies fell as the murderous pieces of metal embedded into their skin.
I ran. I tripped. I fell. I found myself in a ditch, the foul smell of rotting corpses
groping at my nostrils.
I heard the screams of others as they fell beside me, blood oozing from their
mouths.
I could smell the explosive powder in the air, hand grenades whizzing overhead.
Bombshells dropped like hailstones.
Men dropped to their knees and then to their deaths.
The death gases were now stinging my lungs.
I was dying.
A cold shiver shook my soul. I looked on as a hand grenade landed at my

feet.
It exploded. I screamed. Blood more than trickled out of my legs, for they
were only half attached. A numbness overswept my legs.
My eyelids let themselves slowly shut as a sense of peace overcame me.
I was dead.
John Weaver
• Comma splice: Two independent clauses joined by just a comma.

We were happy to get signed up for the trip in Costa Rica,
Rollie had been wanting to go there for some time.
• Fragment: Something punctuated as a sentence that is not
grammatically complete (does not consist of or contain an
independent clause). Dependent clauses and phrases are
fragments when punctuated as sentences. (In the Glossary, see
not only Fragment but Minor sentence.)
While focusing on only a limited number of concepts and terms is clearly

a sensible idea, other teachers may find that the needs of their students
warrant a slightly different list. For instance, in helping basic-level adult
writers eliminate errors, Mina Shaughnessy (1977) found that she needed
to focus on the use of inflectional endings (like noun plural and verb past
tense) and the tense of verbs as well as on sentence sense and agreement.
In most circumstances, terms like noun, verb, adjective, adverb can be

taught incidentally, as they become relevant in discussing effective writing.
Terms for connecting words can too, through lists of words that are typical
of a category. Other niceties—terms like appositive, participial phrase, and
absolute, for instance—can be used in the context of helping students
generate and combine sentences, but the naming of these parts does not
seem necessary in order for writers to be able to use them. Indeed, when I
asked my teenage son where he had learned to use “those constructions”
(pointing to the three absolutes that I have italicized in his poem, Figure
5.7), John simply said, “Oh, all writers know how to use those.” However,
absolutes had not been included in the grammar books used in his school,
nor, apparently, had they been taught by his teachers; he had simply
absorbed the construction through his reading. Such examples are rife
among creative writers: they often demonstrate exceptional command of
the syntactic resources of the language, yet they rarely can name the
constructions they use. And the point is that as writers, they don’t need to.
What Kinds of Structures Should We Emphasize for

Syntactic Growth and Diversity of Style?
We saw in Chapter 3 that at least by the end of their kindergarten year,

children are using in their speech all the basic sentence patterns of English.
Furthermore, they are using virtually all the particular grammatical com
structions found in the speech of older children and adults.
This does not mean, however, that they have ceased expanding their
exploration of the syntactic resources of the language. In fact, O’Donnell,
Griffin, and Norris (1967) found significant spurts of syntactic growth in
children’s oral language during grade 1 and grade 7. In particular, the
children in their study showed significant increases in their use of nominals
(constructions functioning as nouns) and their use of adverbials (construe^
tions functioning as adverbs) (p. 89). In writing, such increases were also
found between grades 3 and 5, and again between grades 5 and 7. Interest^
ingly, it was not until grade 7 that the children’s control of syntax in writing
significantly outdistanced their control of syntax in speech. Other studies
have found the crossover to occur even later (Loban, 1976). Apparently
the nature of the oral and the written discourse situations has a lot to do
with the syntactic complexity of the language used (Scott, 1988; Crowhurst
and Piche, 1979).

What we cannot tell from these studies is the degree to which various
factors have stimulated such growth in students’ command of syntax. Has
direct instruction in grammar played a significant part? Probably not for
many students, given the research on the effectiveness of teaching grammar
in isolation; however, we cannot tell for certain from the research on
syntactic development. Has wide reading played a significant part? Probably
so for at least some students, given the research on the effects of reading;
but again, we cannot tell for sure from these research studies. Has extensive
writing played an important part? Again probably so for some students, if
they’ve struggled with revising their sentences for greater clarity and effec¬
tiveness.
What we do know, however, is some of the patterns that differentiate
older students’ syntax from younger students’ syntax. And by comparing
the syntax of proficient adult writers with the syntax of high school seniors,
we can also see which kinds of constructions seem to develop naturally
(perhaps aided by instruction, perhaps not) and which do not. In other
words, we can glean from the research some idea of where our efforts might
best be spent in trying to help students develop their command of the
syntactic resources of the language.
An excellent and much more thorough discussion of the relevant
research can be found in Scott’s and in Nelson’s articles in Later Language
Development: Ages Nine Through Nineteen (Nippold, 1988). However, even
our brief treatment here will offer some insights into patterns of develop¬
ment, while at the same time demonstrating the need for caution in drawing
conclusions from the research on syntactic development.
Hunt’s Research
Much of the pioneering research in the area of “syntactic maturity” was
done by Kellogg Hunt. In his initial study (1965a), Hunt defined syntacti¬
cally more mature use of syntax simply as what older students did with
syntax that younger students did not do, or did not do as frequently: “the
observed [grammatical] characteristics of writers in an older grade” (p. 5).
Given such a yardstick, Hunt found that the best single measure of syn¬
tactic maturity in normal free writing is simply the average length of
the grammatical sentence: the “minimum terminable unit,” or T-unit, as
Hunt called it (p. 21). A T-unit consists of an independent clause plus
any dependent clauses or elements that may be attached to or embed¬
ded within it. The following examples and the marked paragraphs of the
narrative in Figure 5.6 illustrate how sentences, T-units, and clauses are
related:
124 STRUCTURES FOR SYNTACTIC GROWTH AND DIVERSITY OF STYLE

I drove downtown. [One independent clause—one T-unit]
I drove downtown and bought some [One independent clause, with
art supplies. compound predicate—one T-unitl
I drove downtown and bought some [One independent clause, followed
art supplies after I visited Tommy’s by one dependent clause—one
class. T-unit]
I drove downtown and I bought [Two independent clauses—two
some art supplies. T-units]
Here are Hunt’s statistics demonstrating the increasingly longer T-units of

students in higher grades. Included also are statistics from some superior
adult writers published in Atlantic Monthly (Hunt, 1965a, p. 56):
GRADE 4 GRADE 8 GRADE 12 SUPERIOR

ADULTS
Average (mean) number 8.60 11.50 14.40 20.30
of words per T-unit
As we can readily see, the growth in T-unit length between the fourth and
eighth grades and between the eighth and twelfth grades was approximately
three words per T-unit, while the difference between the twelfth graders
and the highly skilled adults was approximately six words per T-unit.
But as teachers, what we want to know is not just by how many words
the T-units increase, but how the internal grammar of those T-units changes
or doesn’t change. This will suggest some areas for trying to guide students’
syntactic development.
In a controlled writing experiment, Hunt (1970) had such students and
adults combine basic kernel sentences into more sophisticated sentences
(see Figure 5.8). The following passages from his research indicate some of
the syntactic constructions typical of children’s writing at these three grade
levels (pp. 64-67):
Grade 4
Aluminum is a metal and is abundant. It has many uses and it comes from
bauxite. Bauxite is an ore and bauxite looks like clay. Bauxite contains
aluminum and it contains several other substances. Workmen extract these
other substances from the bauxite. They grind the bauxite and put it in
tanks. Pressure is in the tanks . . .
Children’s free writing shows more syntactic variation than this sentence¬
combining exercise typically did, but it is clear that in this exercise, the

FIGURE 5.8 Sentence-combining exercise (Hunt, 1970).
Aluminum
Directions: Read the passage all the way through. You will notice that the
sentences are short and choppy. Study the passage, and then rewrite it in
a better way. You may combine sentences, change the order of words, and
omit words that are repeated too many times. But try not to leave out any
of the information.
Aluminum is a metal. It is abundant. It has many uses. It comes from

bauxite. Bauxite is an ore. Bauxite looks like clay. Bauxite contains alu¬
minum. It contains several other substances. Workmen extract these other
substances from the bauxite. They grind the bauxite. They put it in tanks.
Pressure is in the tanks. The other substances form a mass. They remove
the mass. They use biters. A liquid remains. They put it through several
other processes. It finally yields a chemical. The chemical is powdery. It is
white. The chemical is alumina. It is a mixture. It contains aluminum. It
contains oxygen. Workmen separate the aluminum from the oxygen. They
use electricity. They finally produce a metal. The metal is light. It has a
luster. The luster is bright. The luster is silvery. This metal comes in many
forms.
fourth graders’ typical means of combining sentences was to conjoin two

independent clauses within one sentence, using and.
Grade 8
Aluminum is an abundant metal, has many uses, and comes from bauxite
which is an ore that looks like clay. Bauxite contains several other sub¬
stances. Workmen extract these from bauxite by grinding it, then putting
it in pressure tanks . . .
Several features are noteworthy here. For instance, the first four T-units in
the fourth-grade example have become part of a single T-unit in the
eighth-grade example: Aluminum is an abundant metal, has many uses, and
comes from bauxite. Most noticeable in this sentence is the compound
predicate, in contrast to the compound sentences in the fourth-grade sam¬
ple. Second, we note the two adjectival clauses that are part of the same
eighth-grade sentence: which is an ore that looks like clay. Third, a main
clause with compound verbs in the fourth-grade sample has become a
prepositional phrase with gerunds (by grinding it, then putting it in pressure

tanks) in the eighth-grade sample. Overall, there are fewer words and fewer
T-units, but more words per T-unit.
Grade 12
Aluminum is an abundant metal with many uses. It comes from an ore

called bauxite that looks like clay. It contains aluminum and several other
substances which are extracted from the bauxite. They grind the bauxite
and put it in pressure tanks.
One difference here is that the typical twelfth grader creates reductions of
adjectival clauses: with many uses (rather than the full clause which has many
uses) and called bauxite (rather than the full clause which is called bauxite).
Another change is that the twelfth grader uses passives: which are extracted
from the bauxite, and called bauxite.
Superior adult writers
Aluminum, an abundant metal of many uses, is obtained from bauxite, a

clay-like ore. To extract the other substances found in bauxite the ore is
ground and put in pressure tanks.
Here, two more clauses have been reduced to adjectival phrases, specifically
appositives: an abundant metal of many uses and a clay dike ore. Similarly, the
number of full and reduced passives has increased to four. In addition, there
is an adverbial of purpose: To extract the other substances found in bauxite.
Of course, it would be risky to assume that the kinds of growth dem¬
onstrated in this controlled sentence-combining experiment are exactly
those we are most likely to find in children’s free writing. Nevertheless,
there seems to be some justification for hypothesizing the following trends
in the syntactic development of writing:
1. First, entire sentences tend to be coordinated.

2. Then, coordination of whole sentences may gradually give way to
coordination of elements within sentences, particularly to
coordination of predicates.
3. At approximately the same time or soon thereafter, writers may begin
to use subordinate clauses, such as adverbial and adjectival clauses (or
to use more of these clauses, if they have already begun using them).
4. Then, adjectival clauses may increasingly be reduced to post-noun
adjectival phrases of various kinds—particularly appositive phrases,
participial phrases, and absolute constructions.

Among reduced adjectivals I have emphasized appositive phrases, participial
phrases, and absolute constructions because greater use of these construc-
tions seems often to differentiate professional writing from high school
seniors’ writing (see the next section). For clarification, examples of these
three constructions are underlined and labeled in the last four paragraphs
of the narrative in Figure 5.6.
Again, it must be emphasized that these are not hard-and-fast devel¬
opmental stages but rather trends that may help us decide in what ways to
nudge the syntactic development of particular students.
Walter Loban (1970) summarizes children’s syntactic development as
follows:
As they [schoolchildren] mature, the low group increases its ability to use
dependent clauses whereas the high group shifts to that tighter coiling of
thought accomplished by infinitive clauses, participial, prepositional, and
gerund phrases, appositives, nominative absolutes, and clusters of words in
cumulative sentences, (p. 625)
We see such distinctions between lower, middle, and higher groups in a

research study by Theone Hughes (1975). The following responses to Hunt’s
sentence-combining exercise are all from seventh graders (pp. 29-30):
Seventh grader no. 1
Aluminum is an abundant metal. It has many uses. It comes from bauxite.

Bauxite is an ore. Bauxite looks like clay. Bauxite contains aluminum.
It contains several other substances. Workmen extract these other sub¬
stances. They grind the bauxite. They put it in tanks. Pressure is in the
tanks.
This writer combined only twelve of the underlying propositions (the

original kernel sentences) into his eleven T-units, a ratio of about 1 to 1,
or 1.09 propositions per T-unit. In Hunt’s related study (1977), the closest
comparison is the ratio for grade 4 students: 1.1.
Aluminum is abundant metal. It has many uses. It comes from an ore. The
ore is called bauxite. It looks like clay. It contains aluminum. There are
seven other substances that workmen extract from the bauxite. They grind
the bauxite and put into pressured tanks. The other substances in the mass
are removed by filters. A liquid remains and then they put it through seven
other processes. [The errors were in the student’s original.]

The writer’s first eleven T-units contain the essence of seventeen of the
original sentences, a ratio of about 1/2 to 1, or 1.55 propositions per T-unit.
This is slightly under the average of 1.6 for the grade 6 students in Hunt’s
study.
Aluminum is an abundant metal that comes from bauxite. Bauxite is an

ore that looks like clay. Bauxite contains aluminum and several other
substances. Workmen extract these other substances from the bauxite.
Then the bauxite is ground and put in tanks that have pressure in them.
They remove the mass other substances have formed with filters. The
liquid that remains is put through several other processes. It finally yields
a white powdery chemical that is alumina. It is a mixture that contains
aluminum and oxygen. Workmen use electricity to separate the aluminum
from the oxygen. They finally produce a light metal that has bright silvery
luster.
This writer has combined thirty-one of the original thirty-two sentences

into eleven T-units. (The original sentence It has many uses was omitted
by the student.) Thus the student has condensed nearly three underlying
propositions into each grammatical sentence, a ratio of nearly 3 to 1, or
2.82 propositions per T-unit. This is very close to the average of 3.2
produced by the twelfth graders in Hunt’s 1977 study. (The average number
of propositions per T-unit for the five levels and the skilled adult writers is
as follows: grade four, 1.1; grade six, 1.6; grade eight, 2.4; grade ten, 2.8;
grade twelve, 3.2; skilled adults, 5.1.)
With sets of examples such as these, we are in a better position to under¬

stand what researchers mean when they suggest that longer T-units are only
superficial evidence of what is happening to writers’ syntax as they mature:
they are reducing more and more independent clauses to coordinated
structures, to dependent clauses, and then to increasingly sophisticated
kinds of phrases. To put it more simply, they say more, in fewer words. Or
to put it more technically, they are incorporating more and more proposi¬
tions into each T-unit. Thus some researchers have argued that syntactic
maturity might be expressed as a relationship between deep(er) structure
and surface structure (e.g., DiStefano and Howie, 1979). More concretely,
the syntactic maturity of a writer’s sentences might be expressed as a ratio
between the number of underlying propositions and the number of actual
T-units in a language sample: ratios like those given for the three preceding
student samples. (See Weaver, 1979, for a somewhat more thorough but

still succinct introduction to additional measures of syntactic maturity and
additional results from some of the research. A summary of Hunt’s original
research study is found in Hunt, 1965b.)
One observation we need to keep in mind is that the range and maturity
of students’ syntactic structures in their free writing may differ from that in
a relatively artificial sentence^combining exercise such as the one devised
by Hunt. I find myself wondering, for instance, whether the fourth graders
in Hunt’s study and the first seventh grader in Hughes’s study really unden
stood what they were supposed to do with the sentences, or whether they
were unable to combine sentences in this contrived exercise even if they
used more sophisticated sentences in their free writing. Thus it does not
surprise me that the sentences in Hunt’s study of students’ free writing were,
on the average, two or three words longer than the sentences of students
in the same grade in the sentence-combining experiment. This is as great
a difference as that typically found between two grade levels in the sen¬
tence-combining experiment.
To put the results from Hunt’s studies in perspective, there are several
other observations we should keep in mind:
• The findings from studies of syntactic maturity are limited to the

kinds of discourse explicitly examined. For example, exposition
and argumentation elicit certain grammatical constructions that
are found much less often in narration and description, and vice
versa. (See, for example, Crowhurst, 1979; Crowhurst and Piche,
1979; Scott, 1988.) Furthermore, fiction writers may suit the
sentence structure to different characters and personas (Gibson,
1966, 1969; Malmstrom and Weaver, 1973, ch. 7). Thus we must
be extremely cautious in drawing conclusions from the
sentence-combining research.
• More syntactically mature, in Hunt’s terms, is not necessarily
better (e.g., Malmstrom and Weaver, 1973; Crowhurst, 1979).
Relatively mature sentences can be awkward, convoluted, even
unintelligible; they can also be inappropriate to the subject, the
audience, and the writer’s or persona’s voice. Conversely,
relatively simple sentences can make their point succinctly and
emphatically. Often, of course, sentence variety is best.
• For these reasons, the term syntactic complexity seems more
appropriate for what Hunt described. A syntactically mature
writer, then, might be defined as one having a substantial
reservoir of syntactic resources to call upon and the ability to suit

syntax to his or her purpose, audience, form of discourse, and so
forth (e.g., Crowhurst, 1979).
• Hastening syntactic growth is not necessarily a desirable goal,
especially for those whose syntax is already quite mature
compared to that of their peers (e.g., Kerek, Daiker, and
Morenberg, 1980). The research suggests that at least up to a
point, such growth will probably take care of itself—particularly
when students read frequently, and read at least some materials
with syntax that is more complex than their own.
Christensen s Contributions
Before Loban alluded to the “tighter coiling of thought” typical of older
and more proficient writers in school, Francis Christensen had discovered
that this linguistic compactness was the main difference between twelfth'
grade writers and professional adult writers. He has also contributed sub'
stantially to teachers’ understanding of how such writers use grammar to
achieve rhetorical effects and effectiveness.
In explaining the basis of his generative rhetoric, Christensen (1967,
pp. 24-25) draws upon a statement from John Erskine (1946):
When you write, you make a point, not by subtracting as though you
sharpened a pencil, but by adding. When you put one word after another,
your statement should be more precise the more you add. . . . What you
wish to say is found not in the noun but in what you add to qualify the
noun. The noun is only a grappling iron to hitch your mind to the
reader’s. . . . The noun, the verb, and the main clause serve merely as a
base on which the meaning will rise.
The modifier is the essential part of any sentence.
Of course, it is easy for teachers to misunderstand this advice and encourage

children to write sentences overburdened with adjectives, such as the
following exaggeration from Christensen (1967): “The small boy on the red
bicycle who lives with his happy parents on our shady street often coasts
down the steep street until he comes to the city park” (p. 5). As teachers,
we have also overemphasized the subordinate clause, often without realizing
that to further extend students’ syntactic growth we need to help them
reduce some of their modifying clauses to phrases—the kinds of phrases
used by professional writers.
Free modifiers seem to need the most instructional coaxing, yet they
often convey the detail that makes a sentence effective. Figure 5.9 shows
some examples from Christensen (1967, pp. 9-10). The main clause is
numbered 1, and each “deeper” layer of modification is numbered succes'

FIGURE 5.9 Examples of writing using free modifiers (Christensen, 1967).
1 Fie dipped his hands in the bichloride solution and shook them,
2 a quick shake,
3 fingers down, [absolute]
4 like the fingers of a pianist above the keys.
Sinclair Lewis
2 Calico'coated, [past participle]

2 smalbbodied, [past participle]
3 with delicate legs and pink faces in which their mismatched eyes
rolled wild and subdued,
1 they huddled,
2 gaudy motionless and alert,
2 wild as deer,
2 deadly as rattlesnakes,
2 quiet as doves.
William Faulkner
1 The Texan turned to the nearest gatepost and climbed to the top of it,
2 his alternate thighs thick and bulging in the tight trousers, [absolute]
2 the butt of the pistol catching and losing the sun in pearly gleams, [absolute]
William Faulkner
1 Fie could sail for hours,

2 searching the blanched grasses below him with his telescopic
eyes, [present participle]
2 gaining height against the wind, [present participle]
2 descending in miledong, gently declining swoops when he curved and
rode back, [present participle]
2 never beating a wing. [present participle]
Walter Van Tilburg Clark
sively. Clear examples of the adjectival constructions that are said to need
most instructional coaxing—that is, the appositive, the participial phrase,
and the absolute—are labeled in parentheses.
These writers have used a variety of free modifiers, typically to convey
narrative or descriptive detail. While such phrases may seem particularly
important in fiction and poetry, they can be useful in informative and
argumentative prose as well (e.g., the Eisley quotation in Figure 5.9). Notice
that most of these free modifiers occur after the main clause, producing a
cumulative sentence, the kind of sentence that has particularly charac^
terized twentietbncentury prose (this sentence itself is an example). In

1 Joad’s lips stretched tight over his long teeth for a moment, and
1 he licked his lips,
2 like a dog,
3 two licks,
4 one in each direction from the middle.
John Steinbeck
1 It is with the coming of man that a vast hole seems to open in nature,
2 a vast black whirlpool spinning faster and faster, [appositive]
3 consuming flesh, stones, soil, minerals, [present participle]
3 sucking down the lightning, [present participle]
3 wrenching power from the atom, [present participle]
4 until the ancient sounds of nature are drowned out in the
cacophony of something which is no longer nature,
5 something instead which is loose and knocking at the world’s
heart,
5 something demonic and no longer planned—
6 escaped, it may be— [past participle]
6 spewed out of nature, [past participle]
6 contending in a final giant’s game against its master.
[present participle]
Loren Eisley
analyzing over a thousand sentences of fiction and several essays from

Harper’s magazine, Christensen found that over half of the free modifiers
occurred in final position after the main or base clause, while most of the
rest occurred in initial position before the main clause (this sentence
illustrates both). Free modifiers occurred infrequently in medial position,
between the subject and the verb, apparently because this location makes
a sentence harder to read and comprehend. (See Christensen, 1968b, which
is included in Christensen and Christensen, 1978.)
With such examples as these, we can more readily see how various
grammatical constructions can be used for stylistic effect and effectiveness.
And without necessarily knowing the names of such constructions, we and
our students can expand basic sentences into sentences that carry narrative,
descriptive, and explanatory detail in rhetorically effective constructions.
As Christensen (1967) noted, “Grammar maps out the possible; rhetoric
narrows the possible down to the desirable or effective’’ (p. 39). As teachers
of literature and writing, we need to help our students make this link.

Promoting Growth in Syntactic Complexity
Francis Christensen himself devised a rhetoric program to teach students

to expand bare-bones sentences with modifiers such as those in the preced¬
ing section (Christensen, 1968a), but the program is now out of print. The
references listed in Figure 5.10, however, are excellent introductions to
sentence combining and (in some cases) to generating sentences in the
tradition of Francis Christensen. I have listed my top two choices first. (See
lessons in the Appendix that further clarify and suggest ways of teaching
two kinds of free modifiers, the participial phrase and the absolute.)
For teachers, an important question is whether to have their students use
a book such as those in Figure 5.10 with extensive work in sentence combin¬
ing and possibly sentence generating. That question is not easily answered.
On the one hand, no kind of grammar teaching has produced such
positive results as sentence combining, with or without sentence-generating
activities. Beginning with John Mellons study in 1969 and Frank O’Hare’s
study in 1973, numerous sentence-combining studies were conducted in the
1980s, mostly with positive results. In their review of the literature, Hillocks
and Mavrogenes (1986) indicate that “the overwhelming majority of these
studies have been positive, with about 60 percent of them reporting that
work in sentence combining, from as low as grade 2 through the adult level,
results in significant advances (at least p < .05) on measures of syntactic
maturity” (pp. 142-143). Approximately an additional 30 percent of the
studies found some improvement, though it was not great enough to be
statistically significant. Only 10 percent of the studies reviewed were nega¬
tive, showing no difference or mixed results. Furthermore, sentence com¬
bining seems to work with all levels of students, but particularly for remedial
or “at risk” students. As to whether sentence combining improves the
overall quality of students’ writing, the evidence is mixed (Hillocks and
Smith, 1991, pp. 598-599).
On the other hand, here are some questions that remain:
• Are the gains from sentence-combining activities maintained by

the writers? There is some positive evidence (e.g., Morenberg,
Daiker, and Kerek, 1978), but not enough research to justify
reasonable confidence in the results.
• Would the writers sooner or later come to write more
134 PROMOTING GROWTH IN SYNTACTIC COMPLEXITY

FIGURE 5.10 References on sentence combining and sentence generating.
Killgallon, D. (1987). Sentence composing: The complete course. Portsmouth, NFh

Boynton/Cook. This book includes sentence scrambling, sentence imitating, sen-
tence combining, and sentence expanding (generating). It is described as suitable
for high school or upper schools, college writing courses, or creative writing courses
on any level. Separate texts for grades 10 and 11 can be purchased, but the Complete
Course includes a synthesis of these two.
Daiker, D. A., Kerek, A., & Morenberg, M. (1990). The writer’s options: Combining
to composing (4th ed.). New York: Fiarper & Row. Intended for college writing
classes, this excellent text will help teachers better understand free modifiers and
their effectiveness. It can also be used with high school students, particularly those
in more advanced writing courses. While the book emphasizes sentence combining,
many of the base clauses could be used as the starting point for sentence generating.
Stull, W. L. (1983). Combining and creating: Sentence combining and generative

rhetoric. New York: Fiolt, Rinehart. Like Killgallon’s, this book is notable for
including both sentence combining and sentence generating. Can be used for either
college or high school.
Strong, W. (1981). Sentence combining and paragraph building. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Strong, W. (1984). Crafting cumulative sentences. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Strong, W. (1984). Practicing sentence options. New York: McGraw-Hill. Of the four
McGraw-Hill books by Strong, I particularly like the last two. Intended for high
school or junior high.
Strong, W. (1986). Creative approaches to sentence combining. Urbana, IL: ERIC/RCS

and the National Council of Teachers of English. This informative resource focuses
mostly on the combining of teacher-supplied sentences, but it briefly discusses
sentence generating as well.
Strong, W. (1993). Sentence combining: A composing book (3rd ed.). New York:
McGraw-Hill.
syntactically complex sentences without direct instruction? Hunt’s

research suggests many students would, and there is some
supporting evidence at the college level also (Kerek, Daiker, and
Morenberg, 1980). Such growth is most likely when students are
reading a lot, and reading syntactically challenging material on a
regular basis.
• Would reading and discussion of stylistically effective sentences
in literature have nearly the same effect? Perhaps (see Krashen,
1993).

• Would helping students combine, expand, and revise the
sentences in their own writing have approximately the same
effect? It seems likely. There is at least one research study, Smith
and Hull (1985), which found that a week’s worth of sentence
combining plus advice to use long, complex sentences produced
gains in words per clause that were comparable to gains produced
by an entire semester of sentence-combining practice in other
studies.
While the references on sentence manipulation in Figure 5.10 are

valuable, then, it may be best to use them as a teacher resource and as a
source of occasional sentence-combining and sentence-generating activi¬
ties or frequent but brief mini-lessons, not as an entire course of study.
Practically speaking, perhaps the teachers in a school could agree to use
different parts of the same book at different grade levels. But in any case,
the teacher who has learned what these books have to offer is well pre¬
pared to help students develop syntactic resources through occasional les¬
sons and through writing conferences with small groups and with individual
students.
However, the correlations among various language measures in Loban’s
study (1976) should lead us to the conclusion that the least syntactically
mature writers need more than mere practice in sentence combining and
generating. In that study, the students in the high group were the most
effective users of language as viewed by all their teachers, from kindergarten
through grade 12. Those in the low group were the students similarly viewed
as the least effective users of language over the years. In considering various
measures of language performance, Loban discovered that the high group
was high and the low group was low in all of the following attributes
(pp. 24-25):
• Reading ability
• Writing ability
• Scores on listening tests
• Height and range of vocabulary
• Use of tentativeness: supposition, hypotheses, conditional
statements (the low group was more inflexible, dogmatic,
unwilling or unable to entertain nuances or ambiguity)
• Seven different measures of syntactic development and maturity
Though an examination of Loban’s data clearly shows that the low group
used the various kinds of syntactic structures analyzed in this study, it also
136 PROMOTING GROWTH IN SYNTACTIC COMPLEXITY

shows that at every grade level, the low group used these structures less
frequently than the high group (pp. 63-64). In fact, to rephrase Loban’s
data into the terminology used here, it turned out that in their last three
years of high school, the subjects low in language proficiency were not
combining as many underlying propositions into one T-unit as the high and
randomly assigned groups did in grades 1,2, and 3 (p. 65).
Considering the schools’ tendency in recent decades to shunt less
proficient readers and writers off to resource rooms for more skills work, one
suspects that the lower group had few opportunities to read or write whole
texts. This is extremely unfortunate, because studies of the effectiveness of
free reading show that it has far more impact upon students’ reading ability
than skills work (Krashen, 1993), and furthermore, that the gains are
perhaps most striking for at-risk, underachieving, allegedly dyslexic, and
ESL readers (Tunnell and Jacobs, 1989). Furthermore, some of these studies,
particularly of second language acquisition, suggest that reading may pro¬
mote the acquisition of grammatical structures more effectively than ex¬
plicit study of such structures (as summarized in Elley, 1991).
The same is true with writing. That is, it is not skills work that makes
students better writers, but the opportunity to write and to receive teacher
and peer help with their writing. Various teachers have clearly demon¬
strated that special needs and other low-achieving children and adolescents
can learn to read whole books and write whole, meaningful pieces, with
appropriate instructional help (e.g., Five, 1991; Stires, 1991; Routman,
1991; Atwell, 1987). It takes lots of time and patience and the conviction
that the students will eventually make a breakthrough to literacy. But given
that conviction and the determination to teach accordingly, teachers are
almost never disappointed.
Instead of a crash course in writing more sophisticated sentences, then,
what the less proficient and even the least proficient writers may need most
is to spend a great deal of time in reading and writing workshops. Time
spent freely discussing their reading with peers and the teacher is also likely
to have an effect upon such students’ use of supposition, hypothesis, and
conditional statements—all of which will necessarily be reflected in greater
grammatical sophistication. And syntactic complexity in their writing can
be directly fostered through a limited number of lessons (see the Appendix)
and by helping students revise and expand the sentences in their own
writing. Even students with the least command of syntax do not necessarily
need an entire program in sentence combining or sentence generating, nor
will such a program necessarily benefit them as much as extensive reading
and writing, with support and guidance as needed.

Scope and Sequence in the Teaching of Grammar
It would be handy, of course, to have a scope and sequence chart that would
tell us what aspects of grammar should be taught at which grade levels, a
chart such as we find in published language arts or grammar and composb
tion series (also Vaura, 1994). But is using a scope and sequence chart a
realistic or appropriate way to determine what to teach in helping students
edit their work and revise their sentences for correctness and greater
effectiveness?
Let us consider for a moment the excerpts from two papers (Figures
5.11 and 5.12), the second pages of two stories. The first paper is from a
FIGURE 5.11. Writing sample from Nicholas, a kindergartner.
''Of-/ B oY said' \t/£ buck.

AS HE AT& HI £ f(SH P/^f/iSr
HE " R/»M 70 THE foHb ■ $4YIN u
WbU LOOklNb
AT---- W£- \t\-f\VUR LCl/e-t, ■■
\|AS UOlf\jb ~T0 b>&7 /H0/7U
PSH » 7iS T WeAU //V.
HF JUmS TU£
.
"t ^ ,
--------
be enJ
0 *
F
1 1 ^
138 SCOPE AND SEQUENCE IN THE TEACHING OF GRAMMAR

FIGURE 5.12 Writing sample from John, a fourth grader.
^GU r <kZ.fi
5LuoKI. -ffif .
~-- rjgiAZ-<)q y.5 v_4-4^ Zj&&ZE£JoE:.
..moj£> .€✓.£)-tr_ ho/cf_ . r o®M w.csis
.-..Th&rj... ...L.'h.. w&s-
■h-g--6-gb ~£. Uc3_x'f- .. q... c\o*5lfZ-4>..
.An-^-—&.Z_4 f-fasT ■ ^Ke^ ôy ..wJZe/ifc.
ko .. f^fj^X-ls:g?~ "jiz. <£• t&re;;;. /- c?;_
cZK3~ZJZ^Z- - 3TT- T ~be-yc.y.~
.. _wîpTh. ~-t#_T/y e>..._ g â. i/ ~

ji&Fjs~qjiai3Â*Fc^v‘i rr. r n&fiZT^&y
5ZL.& 0 't-&A-.cA jtf.eW c/)i__r7)
Ij^pHik)' af^ZZr$hujrL
SUS2J?J.aft -d -' .'/&/£

<j aY-■ ■ £>-&> ha & 0 cm pfj2JoL.l<z-srZ-
fe Wui*_J5_±:_Ct-k—SfJ&J) <t
—k-a-^r—pu^-^-
—--../--1 ■■-»-
AN/- <g>/7 4f7?7
kindergartner, Nicholas, who recently completed the first grade. Because

Nicholas was using dialogue in his writing, his kindergarten teacher showed
him how to use quotation marks. We notice other correct punctuation, too:
periods, and a comma before the duck’s words “high water.” Nicholas uses
two participial phrases, saying, “high water” and looking at the water level,
constructions that typically develop later, for most writers. Most of the
words are spelled correctly too. This child was unusual in being so sophis^
ticated a writer as a kindergartner, but he was also fortunate in having a
teacher who would help him learn writing conventions as she helped him
edit his writing. Equally important, he was eager to have the teacher’s help
in revising.
The second writer, John, a fourth grader, was not so fortunate as a
student in the 1970s, before teachers understood the importance of guiding
students throughout the writing process. In kindergarten, his teacher did
not want students to write until they could write correctly, so all he was

allowed to write was his name, in signing valentines. In first grade, his
assigned writing consisted of dittos: one where he was to complete the
sentence “I am happy when . . . ,” and another where he was to complete
the sentence “I am sad when . . In second grade, he copied poems from
the board. In third grade, his teacher used the Workshop Way management
program, in which children individually completed one task after another,
in the sequence specified for the day. Most days John got to the point of
doing the writing assignment, but the teacher never helped the students
revise or edit their writing; she merely red'inked the errors. As a result,
John was discouraged and threw the red'inked papers in the wastebasket or
in a corner at home, without paying any attention to what he was supposed
to learn from the error correction. Examination of his fourth'grade paper
in Figure 5.12 suggests that he needed some of the same kinds of help with
mechanics and grammar that the kindergartner has received. However, the
red'inking of his papers in the third grade discouraged him so much that
he was not able to deal with anyone’s attempt to help. Until near the end
of his fourth'grade year, he was emotionally unable to treat a first draft as
something that need not be permanent. Thus while this piece of fourth'
grade writing (and other pieces) showed a need for help with spelling the
past tense of regular verbs, with strategies for noticing and correcting
temporary spellings in general, and with consistent use of punctuation, he
was not yet able to benefit from such help.
During his kindergarten year, then, one writer learned aspects of gram'
mar that another, fourth'grade writer had seemingly not yet mastered and
was not emotionally able to deal with. Furthermore, an examination of
some of the writings in Myna Shaughnessy’s Errors and Expectations (1977)
demonstrates that many adult writers do not have as good a command of
the conventions of English as these two elementary students seem to have.
Such examples demonstrate that we teachers cannot realistically hope
to sequence what aspects of grammar should be taught when, to teach them
systematically, and to expect students to apply what has been taught. It
simply won’t work, and indeed the research demonstrates that it doesn’t
work, for most students. Students vary considerably in their understanding
and use of editing conventions as well as grammatical constructions. What
one writer appears to need will vary considerably from what other writers
in the same class will need. Furthermore, a writer’s ability to accept editing
help will depend upon a variety of factors, including personality, prior
responses to his or her writing, and the desire to share the writing with
others. We can most effectively teach sentence revision and editing through
a writing process approach, with emphasis on learning to revise and to edit
140 SCOPE AND SEQUENCE IN THE TEACHING OF GRAMMAR

choice pieces for some kind of public sharing or publication, but we need
to respond to each writer as an individual with different writing needs.
Thus—it bears repeating—there cannot be any sensible scope and
sequence to tell us what to teach when, with regard to revising and editing.
As teachers, we simply have to be knowledgeable enough about develop¬
mental trends to have some idea of when and how to intervene with
particular students—and this means being sensitive to their feelings about
their writing and themselves as writers too.
What I’ve offered in Figure 5.13, then, is an idealized scope of what
aspects of grammar might be taught across the years from kindergarten
through college, depending upon individual students’ writing needs, abili¬
ties, and interests. This description uses a number of grammatical terms
with which teachers should ideally be familiar, but again I want to empha¬
size that students do not need to know many of them in order to learn to
edit their writing appropriately and to write increasingly varied and rheto¬
rically effective sentences. Within some categories in Figure 5.13, it was
possible to list some items in a reasonable sequence for teaching certain
concepts (e.g., part 1) or in an order that more or less reflects developmental
trends or increasing sophistication (e.g., part 2). However, it should not be
assumed that the order of the items necessarily reflects an appropriate
instructional sequence. Neither should it be assumed that the items in any
one part should be taught before or after the items in other parts; rather,
at every grade level teachers may draw items from each part, depending
upon the needs of the class and especially of individual students. The
Appendix includes sample lessons reflecting each part, for illustration (most
derive from my teaching at the college level, but many could be adapted
for other levels). Most of these lessons would be taught in the context of
sentence revision and editing.
Guidelines for the Teaching of Grammar
This tentative scope-not-sequence chart needs to be accompanied by sen¬

sible guidelines for teaching grammar. Given the research discussed so far,
the following guidelines seem sensible.
1. Engage students in writing, writing, and more writing. Give them plenty
of time to write daily, in writing workshops—and see that they write not
just during English and language arts, but across the curriculum. Help

FIGURE 5.13 A minimum of grammar for maximum benefits. As discussed in the text,
teaching the application of these grammatical concepts does not require teaching or
conscious mastery of English as a complete grammatical system; indeed, it probably
requires no more than about a dozen terms.
1. TEACHING CONCEPTS OF SUBJECT, VERB, SENTENCE, CLAUSE, PHRASE,

AND RELATED CONCEPTS FOR EDITING
Objectives
• To help students develop sentence sense through wide reading.
• To help students learn to punctuate sentences correctly (according to
accepted conventions) and effectively (judiciously violating the rules on
occasion, for rhetorical effect).
By identifying subjects and verbs (predicates).
By identifying fragments, run-ons, and comma splices, which includes
understanding the concept of a grammatical sentence (T-unit);
distinguishing between independent and dependent clauses, and
between clauses and phrases (including near-clauses); recognizing when
a verb is not a properly formed main verb.
• To help students learn to make verbs agree with their subjects.
According to the conventions of Edited American English, as
differentiated from the conventions of other dialects.
In special cases, such as when the subject is modified by a
prepositional phrase; when the subject and verb are inverted; when
the subject is compound.
• To help students learn conventions for punctuating subordinate clauses.
Introductory adverbial clauses (and long phrases).
Restrictive and nonrestrictive adjectival clauses.
2. TEACHING STYLE THROUGH SENTENCE COMBINING AND SENTENCE

GENERATING
Objectives
• To help students combine sentences.
Coordinating clauses and phrases.
Subordinating some elements to others.
Reducing clauses to phrases.
• To help students expand their syntactic repertoire in order to write more
syntactically sophisticated and rhetorically effective sentences.
Using free modifiers (especially appositives, participial phrases, and
absolutes).
Using structures particularly associated with exposition and
argumentation, such as qualifying clauses and phrases.
142 GUIDELINES FOR THE TEACHING OF GRAMMAR

3. TEACHING SENTENCE SENSE AND STYLE THROUGH THE

MANIPULATION OF SYNTACTIC ELEMENTS
Objectives
• To help students learn techniques to arrange and rearrange sentence
elements for readability and effectiveness.
Moving adverbial free modifiers.
Using parallel grammatical elements when appropriate.
Putting free modifiers after a clause or before it, rather than between
the subject and verb.
Eliminating dangling modifiers by moving or reconstructing them.
Experimenting with wh word, it, and there transforms of basic sentence
structures.
Understanding the relative advantages of the active and passive voices
and being able to use both.
4. TEACHING THE POWER OF DIALECTS AND DIALECTS OF POWER
Objectives
• To help students gain an appreciation for various community and ethnic
dialects, through literature, film, and oral discourse.
• To help students understand grammatical differences between these
dialect forms and the Language of Wider Communication.
• To help students determine which dialects are most appropriate in what
kinds of situations (perhaps through inquiry and investigation of their
own).
• To help students use, as desired, the forms of various dialects (e.g. for
literary effect and rhetorical purposes).
• To help students edit their writing for the grammatical forms and word
usages that characterize Edited American English (e.g., EAE subject'verb
agreement, negation, pronoun use, and verb forms and use).
• To help students edit for basic usage distinctions (e.g., it’s versus its, their
versus they’re and there, your versus you’re).
• To help students edit for the grammatical forms and usages that
differentiate the language of privilege and prestige (cultivated English)
from the general English used in daily speech and writing by most
people comfortable with the Language of Wider Communication.
Editing for the finer points of subject'verb agreement,
pronoumantecedent agreement, and other issues of pronoun use.
Editing for at least the more basic forms and usages that differentiate
the English of prestige from general English (e.g., some of the
distinctions listed in glossaries of usage).

5. TEACHING PUNCTUATION AND MECHANICS FOR CONVENTION,

CLARITY, AND STYLE
Objectives
• To help students edit for appropriateness the relevant aspects of
punctuation that are not associated with the grammatical elements in
the other categories.
Period, question mark, and exclamation mark.
Quotation marks.
Comma.
Semicolon.
Colon.
Apostrophe in possessives.
Other aspects of punctuation and mechanics, such as parentheses and
dashes.
• To help students learn to use various aspects of punctuation not only for
conventional correctness but for clarity and stylistic effectiveness.
• To help students to capitalize proper nouns used in their writings and to
avoid capitalizing other nouns.
them reconsider their writing, revise for content and organization, revise
again for sentence structure effectiveness, and finally help them edit and
proofread their writing for publication or formal sharing of some sort. At
levels where students have separate classes in different subjects, writing
across the curriculum may require collaboration among teachers, but the
results are well worth the effort.
2. Immerse students in good literature, including literature that is particularly

interesting or challenging syntactically. Reading and even listening to welb
written literature will promote the acquisition of syntactic structures, for
speaking and writing, by both native and noivnative speakers of English.
3. Across the grades, reserve a thorough study of grammar for elective courses or
perhaps units. Teach to all students only those aspects of grammar that can
help them write more effectively.
4. Teach these relevant aspects of grammar within the context of students’ writing.
5. Introduce only a minimum of terminology, much of which can be learned

sufficiently just through incidental exposure—for example, as we discuss
selected words and structures in the context of literature and writing. For
many grammatical terms, receptive competence is all that’s needed; that is,

students need to understand what the teacher is referring to, but they
do not always need enough command of the terms to use such terms
themselves.
6. Specifically, emphasize (as appropriate to writers' needs) those aspects of

grammar that are particularly useful in helping students revise sentences to make
them more effective. These syntactic structures and revision techniques can
be taught by example, with terminology used incidentally. Such teaching
might include: (1) how to use “new” kinds of syntactic structures that
the students haven’t noticed before; (2) how to reorder and otherwise
manipulate sentence elements; (3) how to expand and combine sentences.
Teaching such concepts within the context of writing can help students
develop more effective writing styles.
7. Also emphasize (as appropriate to writers' needs) those aspects of grammar

that are particularly useful in helping students edit sentences for conventional
mechanics and appropriateness. Such teaching might include: (1) concepts
like subject, verb, and predicate; clause and phrase; grammatical sentences
versus run-ons and fragments; (2) usage; (3) grammatical features that differ
among the Language of Wider Communication and other dialects.
8. Teach needed terms, structures, and skills when writers need them, ideally
when they are ready to revise at the sentence level or to edit. Structures and
skills that are first practiced during revision and editing may later become
sufficiently internalized that they are incorporated into drafting, but at first
it is easiest and most effective to deal with them only after a draft has been
written and revised for content and organization.
9. Explore the grammatical patterns of ethnic and community dialects—through

literature, film, and audiotapes, for example—and contrast these with the cone-
sponding features of the Language of Wider Communication. Students can make
such comparisons by translating a welhknown or welhliked text into a
particular dialect or by writing original poems, stories, and plays in one or
more ethnic and community dialects as well as in the Language of Wider
Communication. Such language study and writing can help students appre^
date each others’ dialects as well as consider which dialects are most
appropriate for what kinds of writing and under what circumstances.
10. Offer elective courses, units, or activities that allow students to discover the
pleasure of investigating questions and making discoveries about language. A
discovery approach to grammar and language will not necessarily involve
learning the grammatical elements and structures from A to Z, but it can

involve investigating selected aspects of grammar for the sheer joy of
discovering generalizations, appreciating ambiguity, unlocking the mysteries
of syntactically challenging poetry and prose, and understanding and em¬
ploying syntactic alternatives for different rhetorical effects.
11. 1/ you teach grammar as inquiry, draw not only upon traditional grammar
but upon insights from structural, transformational, and functional linguistics.
Such teaching may involve helping students choose, develop, and collabo-
ratively investigate some questions and problems that will lead them to
discover for themselves some of the insights provided by different theoreti¬
cal approaches to grammar study.
12. Become a teacher-researcher to determine the effects of your teaching of

selected aspects of grammar or your students’ study of grammar as an object of
inquiry and discovery. For example: Are students better able to revise their
sentences for greater effectiveness? Better able to edit? More versatile in
their use of syntactic alternatives or language variants, such as ethnic and
community dialects and the Language of Wider Communication? Better
able to explain similarities and differences in grammatical patterns? More
interested in revising and editing their writing, or in studying language?
Such questions can be investigated by collecting pre-teaching data and,
later in the year, comparing such data with data gathered under comparable
circumstances. Other questions can be investigated by comparing your data
with data from comparable students in classrooms where the teacher uses
a different approach. For example: Are your students more or less competent
in revising sentences and in editing than are peers in other classes who
have simply studied traditional grammar but not had teacher and peer help
with revising and editing? Are your students more or less competent in
revising and editing than are peers in other classes who have written a lot
but not had teacher and peer help in revising and editing? Are any differ¬
ences in revision and editing skills (or students’ growth therein) also
reflected in differences in the sections of standardized tests that deal with
grammar, punctuation, and usage? In standardized or state-mandated assess¬
ment of reading and writing?
As discussed further in Chapter 6, learning seems to be most enduring when

the learners perceive it as useful or interesting to them personally, in the
here and now. Therefore, the twelve suggested guidelines reflect such prin¬
ciples as the following: (1) Teach selected aspects of grammar as they
become useful in the context of what the students are trying to do (write,
disentangle the syntax of literature); (2) encourage syntactic experimenta-

tion and risk taking in writing, even though it leads to error, because risk
taking and error are necessary for growth; (3) encourage students to consider
and appreciate the alternatives, ambiguities, and nuances in grammar,
instead of insisting that there is always one right answer to questions
regarding grammar; and (4) create a community of language researchers in
your classroom, wherein inquiry and investigation become goals for you and
the students as well.

6
Learning Theory and the
Teaching of Grammar
it is generally agreed that writers need strategies for revising sentences and
making them more effective, as well as skills for editing their sentences for
grammar, punctuation, and usage.
The traditional approach has been to teach concepts and skills from a
grammar handbook or language arts series, where the primary method of
teaching has been to assign grammar, revision, and editing exercises and to
give tests on the material. This reflects a transmission model of education,
based upon principles from behavioral psychology. Figure 6.1 lists some key
principles of behavioral psychology and the transmission model, contrasted
with key principles of cognitive psychology and a transactional model of
learning. Considering learning to be primarily a matter of correct habit
formation, the behavioralists of the 1920s suggested principles of lesson and
curriculum development that continue to underly most instructional mate'
rials and programs to the present day. According to such principles, learning
is best fostered through practice and more practice, preferably in a situation
where it is virtually impossible to make errors and thus develop bad habits.
A contrasting view of learning derives from cognitive learning theory
and concept learning research. This view is often referred to as construe-
tivist.
In their outstanding article “Explaining Grammatical Concepts,” Harris
and Rowan (1989) point out that practice, practice, and more practice
usually does not promote adequate understanding (see also Kagan, 1980).
For example, being able to identify sentence fragments in an exercise
written specifically for that purpose does not guarantee that the student
knows the critical features of fragments in contrast to grammatically com¬
plete sentences, much less that the student can reliably distinguish between
148
FIGURE 6.1 Ends of a transmissioivto-transactional continuum (Weaver, 1994).
TRANSMISSION TRANSACTIONAL
Reductionist Constructivist
Behaviorial psychology Cognitive psychology
Habit formation Hypothesis formation
Avoiding mistakes prevents formation Errors necessary for encouraging more
of bad habits sophisticated hypotheses
Students passively practice skills, Students actively pursue learning and
memorize facts construct knowledge
Teacher dispenses prepackaged, Teacher develops and negotiates
predetermined curriculum curriculum with students
Direct teaching of curriculum Responsive teaching to meet
students’ needs and interests
Taskmaster, with emphasis on cycle Master craftsperson, mentor:
of teach, practice/apply/memorize, emphasis on demonstrating,
test inviting, discussing, affirming,
facilitating, collaborating,
observing, supporting
Lessons taught, practiced or applied, Minidessons taught as demonstration,
then tested invitation; adding an idea to the
class pot
Performance on decontextualized Assessment from a variety of
tests is taken as measure of contextualized learning
learning of limited information experiences captures diverse
aspects of learning
Learning is expected to be uniform, Learning is expected to be individual,
same for everyone; uniform means different for everyone; flexible and
of assessment guarantee that many multiple means of assessment
will fail, in significant ways guarantee all will succeed, in
differing ways
Adds up to a failure-oriented model, Adds up to a successôriented model,

ferreting out students’ weaknesses emphasizing students’ strengths
and preparing them to take their and preparing them to be the best
place in a stratified society they can be in a stratified society
Learning Theory and the Teaching of Grammar 149

the two. Those of us who have tried to teach grammar scarcely need to be
told this, but personally I find it comforting to read research that validates
my own experiences as a teacher. To me it seems quite clear that our
traditional methods of teaching grammatical concepts are totally made-
quate, and that underlying the inadequate methodology is an equally in-
adequate, inaccurate learning theory.
Let us approach an understanding of a more adequate cognitive/con'
structivist learning theory through the concept of mini-lessons that reflect
that theory.
Teaching Grammar via Mini-lessons
A major thesis of this book is that one of the best ways to teach the
grammatical concepts needed for sentence revision and editing may be
through mini-lessons based upon cognitive and constructivist principles of
learning.
This concept of mini-lessons was introduced to writing teachers in 1986
by Lucy Calkins in The Art of Teaching Writing and further elaborated by
Nancie Atwell in In the Middle: Writing, Reading and Learning with Adoles¬
cents (1987). Basically, a mini-lesson is a brief explanation of something
that may be helpful to students. Thus Atwell found herself teaching mini¬
lessons not only on various aspects of the writer’s craft but also on classroom
routines and management.
As developed by Calkins and Atwell, mini-lessons have several note¬
worthy characteristics:
1. They are brief, as the term mini would suggest. Typically they take no
more than five to ten minutes.
2. The teacher explains directly, often without much if any overt interac¬
tion with the students. The teacher is simply offering “tips” that he or she
thinks will be valuable to students.
3. Mini-lessons can be presented to the whole class when the teacher has
reason to believe that several students might profit from the lesson. For
instance, if several students are using dialogue but not quotation marks, this
may prompt the teacher to offer a mini-lesson on the basics of enclosing
in quotation marks whatever the speaker has said. When these basics have
150 TEACHING GRAMMAR VIA MINI-LESSONS

been mastered by several students, the teacher can teach them additional
mini-lessons on the finer points of punctuating direct quotes.
4. When a mini-lesson is presented to the whole class, the teacher does not
assume that everyone will or should learn and immediately be able to apply
what has been taught; the ideas are simply added “to the class pot,” as
Calkins (1986) puts it. The teacher knows that he or she will still have to
help individual students apply what has been taught, to encourage students
to help each other apply it, and possibly to teach similar mini-lessons to
the whole class or small groups again, as more students demonstrate a need
for the lesson through their writing.
5. Mini-lessons may be taught to the whole class (as explained above), to

small groups, or to individuals in one-on-one conferences. Usually mini¬
lessons are not taught to the whole class unless the teacher has reason to
believe that several students might profit immediately.
6. A key feature of mini-lessons is that students are not given follow-up

exercises to practice what has been taught. The teacher simply helps them
use the information if their writing suggests a need for the skill and they
seem ready for it.
7. Both need and readiness are important. For instance, a writer may be
presenting a speaker’s exact words without using quotation marks, but if the
writer is far from having mastered the conventional use of periods at the
ends of sentences, the teacher should realize that the student may not yet
be ready to deal with quotation marks.
8. In other words, teachers must be “kidwatchers” (Y. Goodman, 1978) in

order to decide when to teach mini-lessons.
Many of these principles are captured in Figure 6.1 as aspects of an active,

transactional model of learning and teaching.
More on the Different Learning Theories
The learning theory that underlies the concept of mini-lessons differs

greatly from the learning theory that underlies other popular and traditional
ways of teaching, such as Madeline Hunter’s (1982) Instructional Theory
into Practice (ITIP). What underlies traditional instruction, with its linear

sequence of predetermined and prepackaged lessons, is the tenets of behav^
ioral psychology. The behaviorialism that still permeates education today
can be traced to Edward Thorndike in the 1920s. Thorndike derived the
following “laws of learning” from behavioral psychologists and his own
laboratory experiments with animals (as explained in K. S. Goodman et al.,
1988, pp. 11-13).
Behavioral Principles of Learning
• Law of Readiness: Learning is ordered; efficient learning follows one

best sequence. This law results in readiness materials (e.g., practice
in letter formation) and in the tight sequencing of writing skills
that teachers teach and learners are expected to master.
• Law of Exercise: Practice strengthens the bond between a stimulus and
a response. This law results in drills and exercises: on the
chalkboard, in workbooks, and on skill sheets. Today, the
popularity of cooperative learning (Johnson and Johnson, 1985)
has often resulted in students doing together the same kinds of
exercises they would formerly have done by themselves. (Often,
the underlying learning theory has not changed much.)
• Law of Effect: Rewards influence the stimulus-response connection.
This law provides justification for first teaching simple writing
skills (e.g., letter formation, spelling, punctuation) and then
“rewarding” the learner, perhaps months or years later, by
allowing the learner to compose simple texts reflecting those
skills.
• Law of Identical Elements: The learning of a particular
stimulus-response connection should be tested separately and under the
same conditions in which it was learned. This law results in the
focus on testing isolated skills via test questions that resemble the
practice materials the students have completed.
In the 1950 Encyclopedia of Educational Research, H. A. Greene applies key

behavioral principles to grammar instruction. He emphasizes “properly mo-
tivated drill” and habit formation: “Correct language habits are developed
in accordance with the general laws of learning. The effective learning
situation in language is one in which the individual is able repeatedly
to produce the correct response under pleasantly motivated conditions”
(p. 391). Interestingly, however, he also notes that “only a relatively small
proportion of English skills is developed in the classroom” and that most
152 MORE ON THE DIFFERENT LEARNING THEORIES

students fail to transfer such skills to situations where they are needed
(p. 391). He also concludes from his survey of the research that there seems
to be little practical value in teaching grammar in isolation. Nevertheless,
so strong was the behavioral orientation in his time that Greene seems to
have taken behavioral principles and teaching methods for granted and not
to have considered whether these might be less than optimal in getting
students to learn and apply grammatical principles.
Today, such behavioral “laws of learning” can be found embodied in
instructional procedures like Madeline Hunter’s Instructional Theory into
Practice. They also form the backbone of the typical instructional program,
which is sequenced according to the publisher’s preconceptions of what
should be taught and learned, and in what order.
Cognitive/Constructivist Principles of Learning

From the cognitive (and humanistic) psychology of the last several decades,
many educators have come to understand learning quite differently. They
may have read books like Renate and Geoffrey Caine’s Making Connections:
Teaching and the Human Brain (1994), Frank Smith’s Comprehension and
Learning: A Conceptual Framework for Teachers (1975), or his To Think (1990).
But even if they have not read such professional literature, they know from
their own experience that they have very quickly forgotten information
that was merely memorized for a test. They may have found, too, that they or
their fellow learners have often not applied skills that were taught, prac^
ticed, and tested in isolation. By reflecting on their own experience, they
recognize the validity of what cognitive psychologists have discovered about
the learning of complex concepts, strategies, and processes. Some key insights
are summarized here, as cognitive and constructivist principles of learning.
1. Learning involves not the mastery of isolated facts, but the construction
of concepts. If the learner cannot or does not organize facts into concepts,
they are quickly forgotten (e.g., Smith, 1975, 1990).
2. The learning of concepts is a complex process. It involves clarifying all

the critical features of a concept and distinguishing these from variable or
nondistinguishing features, in order to differentiate apparent from real
instances of a concept (Harris and Rowan, 1989). A simple example of this
complexity would be children’s learning what features critically differentiate
dogs from cats and other animals—that is, learning to correctly differentiate
dogs from nondogs. Only when learners can differentiate X from nonX do

they really understand the concept of X, whatever it may be. Thus only
when learners can accurately distinguish sentences from not-sentences do
they accurately understand the concept of a grammatical sentence.
3. Learning is by no means ordered or linear, even though the teaching

may have been. Rather, learning—that which endures—is idiosyncratic,
nonlinear, even chaotic, in the sense of chaos theory (Taylor, 1989).
4. Learning is idiosyncratic because learners must construct concepts for

themselves. In doing so, they continually formulate hypotheses, test these
hypotheses against feedback and other new input, and revise their hypothec
ses accordingly. This process occurs with such “simple” learning as what a
dog is (in contrast, say, to a cat or a cow) and such complex processes as
formulating new mathematical theorems or scientific paradigms (F. Smith,
1975, 1990).
5. Learning proceeds best when learners find the learning personally meam
ingful in the here and now, when they have the sense that “I can do this,”
and when they know they can experiment, take risks, and learn without
negative consequences like punitive correction or criticism, or denigrating
or downgrading of their efforts because of imperfect mastery of whatever
they are trying to learn or do (Cambourne, 1988).
6. Learning proceeds best when it is relatively “natural.” For instance, when

people want to learn to do something outside of school, they commonly
observe others do it, try it with the guidance of those already skilled,
practice independently, and then celebrate their mastery by voluntarily
demonstrating their skill to others (Holdaway, 1986). Everyday examples
include learning to walk, to swim, to cook, to build or make something, to
play computer games, and to drive a car.
7. Learning typically proceeds best from whole to part, for young learners.
As they mature, some individuals will develop the ability to learn from part
to whole, in a more linear and analytical fashion. However, many learners
remain more holistic or global, most readily learning the parts of something
within the context of the whole (Dunn and Dunn, 1978).
8. Learning proceeds best when others provide the kinds of support that
adults typically provide for young children—for example, in acquiring their
native language. This includes expecting learners to succeed eventually, and
treating them accordingly; recognizing that adult mastery will develop
gradually as well as idiosyncratically, over several years; expecting closer
154 MORE ON THE DIFFERENT LEARNING THEORIES

and closer approximations to adult mastery, not perfection; responding
positively to whatever the learner can do, rather than emphasizing what
the learner cannot yet do; providing scaffolding (teacher or peer collabo-
ration) for the learner, so that the individual learner can succeed in doing
things that he or she would not yet be able to do alone (Vygotsky, 1978,
1986; Ninio and Bruner, 1978; Bruner, 1983, 1986; see, for instance,
Weaver, 1994, ch. 3).
9. Much learning occurs through the observation and osmosis that are
facilitated by indirect instruction, such as the natural demonstrations that
others provide when they simply do what the learner would like to learn
to do. Learning can also be facilitated by direct instruction. However, direct
instruction typically has the most permanent effect when provided in the
context of the whole activity that the learner is attempting, whether that
whole be using a cookbook, building a tree house, reading a book, or writing
something to share with others. In other words, direct instruction is most
effective when offered within the context of the learner’s interest and need.
While these principles do not correspond point-for-point to the behav-

ioral laws of learning articulated by Thorndike, many contrasts should be
apparent. Perhaps the greatest difference begins with the behavioral as¬
sumption that if only the teacher teaches something well, the student
will—or should—learn it. Certainly effective teaching can help (teaching
based upon an understanding of how concepts are formed, for instance).
However, educators grounded in cognitive psychology have concluded that
teaching does not equal learning; that is, that learning is not simply a direct
reflection of teaching (e.g., Emig, 1983). If or when learning occurs, it
happens because the learner has constructed concepts and knowledge for
him- or herself, as a result of (or perhaps despite) the teaching. This
constructivist view of learning underlies recent efforts at curriculum reform
in virtually every discipline, including the English language arts, mathe¬
matics, science, social studies, and even health education.
These two contrasting views or models of learning are often called
contrasting paradigms. A paradigm is an agreed-upon set of operating as¬
sumptions that guides people’s actions, but often unconsciously. For exam¬
ple, teachers have for decades used instructional programs that reflect a
behavioral paradigm, but they are often unaware of doing so. Change
becomes possible when the unconscious set of operating assumptions is
articulated and examined, as we are doing here.

Mini-Lessons as a Reflection of the
Cognitive/Constructivist Paradigm
To further clarify how minidessons in the tradition of Atwell and Calkins

differ from traditional lessons inspired by behavioral psychology, let us
consider the following graphic representations of Madeline Hunter’s ITIP
procedures (1982) compared with the concept of mini-lessons as explained
by Atwell (1987) and Calkins (1986):
ITIP MINI-LESSONS
1. Anticipatory set and 1. Objectives phrased in terms of sharing
statement of objectives helpful hints or ideas (typically, the
(objectives may be teacher determines the need for the
determined by prepackaged mini-lesson by observing students’
curriculum) work)
2. Instruction and modeling 2. Demonstrations and explanations
3. Checking understanding 3. Guided application
4. Guided practice 4. Assessment through further observation
5. Independent practice 5. Independent application
6. Assessment 6. Further assessment through observation
In an ITIP-inspired skills approach, students are required to practice

and be tested on skills in isolation; it seems simply to be taken for granted
that the skills will transfer, that they will be applied when relevant. A
mini-lesson approach makes no such assumption. Therefore, all the time
spent practicing and being tested on skills in isolation is used instead for
actual writing, revising, and editing. Mini-lessons are followed not by
isolated practice and testing, but by teacher and peer assistance in applying
the lesson taught. With writing, for example, students are guided in applying
the concept or skill when, and only when, their own writing suggests a need
and readiness. They do not do practice exercises—not even exercises deal¬
ing with pieces of writing. Neither do they write to fulfill a writing assignment
that the teacher has devised in order to provide practice in what he or she has just
taught. If students’ writing suggests no need for the skill at the present time,
then the teacher does not expect students to learn it. Instead, the teacher
expects to help students add the new strategies to their repertoire as writers
when the writers themselves are ready to construct and apply this new
knowledge. Of course the teacher may nudge the students toward readiness
156 MINI-LESSONS AS A REFLECTION OF THE COGNITIVE/CONSTRUCTIVIST PARADIGM

through various kinds of mini-lessons, including those that spontaneously
occur during individual conferences. And of course it may take several
mini-lessons, perhaps taught in different ways, for learners to construct the
concepts being introduced.
In summary, skills lessons along the lines of the ITIP model differ
significantly from the kind of mini-lessons advocated by Atwell (1987) and
Calkins (1986), because the former reflect behavioral principles of learning
and the latter reflect cognitive principles and a constructivist paradigm of
learning.
Toward a Constructivist Model of Learning and Teaching
For those to whom the cognitive principles and constructivist paradigm of

learning make sense, it may be useful to have a model against which
to measure one’s teaching efforts. The model offered here draws heav¬
ily upon language acquisition research, the research and theory of psycholo¬
gists Lev Vygotsky (1978, 1986) and Jerome Bruner (Ninio and Bruner,
1978; Bruner, 1983, 1986), and the work of such researchers and theorists
as Brian Cambourne (1988), Frank Smith (1981a, 1981b, 1990), Don
Holdaway (1986), Stephen Krashen (1981, 1985), Carole Edelsky (Edelsky
and Draper, 1989), Bess Altwerger (1991), and others. What is new here
is the way various concepts are integrated into a model (see Figure 6.2).
To the left in the outer circle are key words indicating what teachers
try to provide for students when the teachers are convinced that learning
is basically constructive rather than a matter of habit formation. To the
right in the outer circle are key words for characteristics of the psychological
experiences and state of the learner that promote learning and may even
be critical for genuine learning to take place. Obviously what the teacher
does is related to how the learner feels, but there is no simple one-to-one
correspondence between factors. Rather, these various factors interact in
multiple and complex ways, providing optimal conditions for learning.
In classrooms guided by a constructivist theory of learning, here are
some of the things teachers do:
1. They provide demonstrations from which students can learn. For example,
they may model a reading strategy that has helped them unlock a particular
word, a strategy for marking parts of their writing for later reconsideration,

FIGURE 6.2 A constructivist model of learning and teaching.
a research technique they use, a way of conducting a science experiment

or figuring out a math problem. In other words, they show students some
way of doing something, based upon their own experiences. Demonstrating
to students how they themselves function as learners is a powerful way for
teachers to affect students’ learning. It helps students see the value of what
they are being taught and motivates them to do likewise. Other kinds of
explanations can likewise be important, though the constructivist teacher
recognizes that teaching does not automatically equate with learning. Ex¬
planations are valuable insofar as they give learners the information they
need to construct concepts for themselves, hut what one student will need
158 TOWARD A CONSTRUCTIVIST MODEL OF LEARNING AND TEACHING

or be ready for is not the same as what another student will need or be ready
for. Thus explanations can provide comprehensible input, but learning will
not necessarily take place unless the learner is in some sense motivated to
learn.
2. Teachers offer invitations to students: invitations to try what the teacher

has demonstrated or explained or shared, for instance. Often, teachers’
invitations may include the suggestion that students “try this and report
back to the rest of us,” or something of the sort. Teachers may also invite
students to work on something together.
3. The term invitations obviously implies that one has a choice about the
matter—and in constructivist classrooms, students do. In order to facilitate
choice and decision making, teachers will offer students options: the option
to choose what they want to read, write, or research, for example; or perhaps
the option of working on one’s writing, reading a book, discovering science
concepts through investigation, working on or creating their own math
problems, or engaging in some kind of art activity.
In classes dealing with a single content area, the choices will be narrower,
of course, but even within a particular discipline, students can still be given
significant options of what to read, write about, and research. Some of the
decision making may be collaborative, too. For instance, in a high school
literature class where the English department requires use of a certain
anthology, the teacher might ask different groups of students to read a
certain section of the text and decide which selections the whole class will
read; alternatively, each student or group of students might decide what
they will read within a given section, or which sections they will read.
Such management decisions on the part of the teacher obviously require
nontraditional means of accountability and assessment, but offering stu-
dents the opportunity to make choices encourages them to find meaningful¬
ness and value in what they are doing, to establish their own purposes and
motivation for what they are doing, and to feel a sense of ownership and
empowerment.
4. Constructivist teachers know that it is important for the options they

offer to be genuine learning experiences that at least resemble the kinds of
experiences from which students learn outside of school, in the natural
give-and'take of growing and playing and investigating things of interest.
Offering students a choice of one worksheet or another does not empower
them; offering them the option of choosing what book to read does. Thus

authenticity is important for generating motivation, purpose, and the other
characteristics mentioned under options. Allowing significant choices helps
guarantee that the learner will perceive the self-chosen learning experience
as authentic.
5. Teachers help students learn needed skills and strategies in the context
of authentic learning experiences. For example, they demonstrate and
explain reading strategies when students need them to deal with words and
texts; they teach various kinds of writing and editing skills when students
need them to strengthen their writing; and similarly, they teach research,
experimentation, and problem-solving skills as students need them for
investigating various topics and problems across the curriculum. In other
words, authenticity and the contextualization of skills go hand-in-hand and
have some of the same benefits in terms of students’ response.
6. The teacher provides support for the learners, collectively and individu¬
ally. One critical kind of support is a classroom community wherein students
are encouraged to value each other and to work cooperatively and collabo-
ratively. This includes not only working together on projects but simply
helping each other—by showing someone how to uget” a problem word in
reading, by listening to or reading a classmate’s writing and offering sugges¬
tions, by helping a friend figure out how to approach a math problem or
science experiment. In such a setting, both classmates and the teacher
provide what Bruner (Ninio and Bruner, 1978; Bruner, 1983, 1986) calls
scaffolding for learning: a temporary support. Working together, students can
often accomplish tasks that none of them could do alone, or do as well
alone. The teacher may serve as collaborator too, providing additional
scaffolding for learning. Such support enables students to work in what
Vygotsky (1978, 1986) calls the “zone of proximal development”: to work
at things that are just a little beyond what the learner could manage alone.
Paradoxically, collaboration between and among teacher and students seems
to be the best way to help the most students become competent and
independent learners. Of course, such collaboration and scaffolding helps
learners to feel supported in their learning.
7. Teacher acceptance of learners is critical. In this context, however, accep¬

tance means more than simply accepting the learner as a unique person and
treating the learner accordingly. It also means recognizing that the con¬
struction of knowledge takes a great deal of time (months and years); that
160 TOWARD A CONSTRUCTIVIST MODEL OF LEARNING AND TEACHING

errors are a necessary concomitant of learning; that learning proceeds from
the whole (an intent to mean or do) to gradual mastery of the parts (the
needed skills and strategies); and that it is realistic to expect only increas¬
ingly closer approximations of adult norms, not instant perfection. As used
here, acceptance means accepting errors as necessary to growth and even
celebrating new kinds of errors that indicate progress; that is, acceptance
means recognizing and rewarding successive approximations. It means re¬
sponding positively to learners’ best efforts, even when these efforts are less
than fully successful. It means helping learners achieve goals by providing
appropriate support, rather than judging them inadequate because they
cannot yet achieve these goals alone. Clearly such multifaceted acceptance
is critical in helping students feel that they can try new things without
risking negative response and repercussions; it enables the learner to feel
psychologically safe. Given psychological safety and the sense of being sup¬
ported as a learner, the student is more likely to feel confident that he or she
is capable of engaging successfully in the learning experiences offered. And
this in turn promotes motivation, empowerment, and other associated char¬
acteristics that are critical for learning.
Returning to Figure 6.2, we need only point out the relationship

between the outer circle and the inner circles. The implication of the outer
circle is that learning proceeds best when students see meaningfulness and
value in what they are doing and are sufficiently motivated to develop their
own purposes and agendas for learning; when they feel safe in taking risks
because they know they will not be criticized or penalized if their efforts
are less than fully successful; and when they feel supported in their learning
and confident that they are capable of doing and succeeding at whatever
they are attempting. In addition, the outer circle implies that teachers can
promote these characteristics by offering demonstrations and explanations,
invitations, and options; by offering learning experiences that will likely
seem authentic to the students; by helping students learn needed skills in
the context of their use; by providing support of various kinds; and by
accepting and applauding students’ efforts at learning.
The outer circle, then, may be viewed as conditions conducive to
immersion and psychological engagement in learning—an emotional commit¬
ment to what one is doing, rather than the unthinking completion of tasks
one finds meaningless or boring. The act of being engaged in learning
experiences will itself provide comprehensible input for the learner. Together,

engagement in learning and the availability of comprehensible input pn>
vide conditions for the construction and the application of knowledge.
Constructivism Contrasted with Behavioralism
The notion that psychologically engaged learners construct knowledge

themselves from comprehensible input is vastly different from the behav-
ioralists’ notion that learning consists of habit formation. Thus the corner-
stones of behavioralism and constructivism differ sharply.
Superficially, though, some of the more extreme examples of behavioral
instruction have some key characteristics in common with constructivist
teaching, as well as some key differences. For example, teachers using Direct
Instruction materials from SRA publishing company (programs such as
Reading Mastery: DISTAR and DISTAR Language) may support students’
learning more than teachers traditionally have done, but they do so by (1)
reducing learning to bits and pieces of language and concepts; (2) engaging
students in “repeat-after-me” kinds of drills; and (3) testing the students on
the same kinds of activities they have been doing. With such support, in a
psychologically safe environment, many students who have done poorly in
traditional classrooms feel more capable of accomplishing the expected, and
they do succeed—but succeed at what1 They are not engaging in the kinds
of reading, writing, and researching that best facilitate concept formation
and independence in learning.
The kind of support provided in constructivist classrooms is very dif¬
ferent. Teachers help learners do things they cannot already do, and in this
process the students eventually learn how to do them independently. Ex¬
amples might include how to choose a book, how to write a letter to the
editor, how to locate resources and information on a topic of interest, and
how to introduce and reference quotations taken from published sources.
Skills are taught in the context of their use (contextualization) and mas¬
tered gradually, while students engage in authentic learning experiences
that, frequently, they themselves have chosen. With processes like reading
and writing, the teacher aims for fluency first, then clarity, and finally
correctness, following the natural sequence in which children develop the
ability to read and write (Mayher, Lester, and Pradl, 1983; Mayher, 1990).
Furthermore, the teacher facilitates learning and collaborates with the
learners, instead of dispensing information and testing students on it.
Therefore, learners are more likely to see meaningfulness and value in what
162 CONSTRUCTIVISM CONTRASTED WITH BEHAVIORALISM

FIGURE 6.3 References on whole language as constructivist learning and teaching.
UNDERSTANDING WHOLE LANGUAGE AS CONSTRUCTIVIST THEORY

Fulwiler, L. (1992). The constructivist culture of language-centered classrooms.
In C. Weaver & L. Henke (Eds.), Supporting whole language: Stories of teacher
and institutional change. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
Goodman, K. S. (1986). What’s whole in whole language1 Richmond Hill,
Ontario: Scholastic. Distributed in the United States by Heinemann.
Lester, L. (1991). Learning with Zachary. Richmond Hill, Ontario: Scholastic.
Weaver, C. (1990). Understanding whole language. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
EXPLORING WHOLE LANGUAGE AS CONSTRUCTIVIST CURRICULUM

Orlando, FL: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Manning, M., Manning, G., & Long R. (1994). Theme immersion: Inquiry-based
curriculum in elementary and middle schools. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
Routman, R. (1991). Invitations: Changing as teachers and learners K-I2.
Boynton/Cook.
they do, to have motivation and purpose for their activities, and to expe¬
rience ownership and empowerment as learners. These characteristics are
vastly different from those experienced by most learners when instruction
is guided by behavioral principles and methods.
In literacy education, this constructivist paradigm of learning has be¬
come a cornerstone of what is known as whole language education. Figure
6.3 provides some references for better understanding whole language the¬
ory and practice. The references on the teaching of writing (Figure 4.14)
also help clarify whole language practices. As a 1992 article by Laura
Fulwiler suggests (see Figure 6.3), whole language learning theory is relevant
all across the curriculum because it is essentially a constructivist theory of
learning.
An Invitation
Considering a particular example can be an excellent way of testing one’s

understanding and critiquing—even challenging—the concepts presented.
You may find it worthwhile, then, to consider in what ways the sequence

of mini-lessons described by Doris Master (1977) reflects the constructivist
model, and in what ways it does not. Reflecting upon the model itself as
well as upon this sequence of lessons, you may wish to consider whether
the sequence is or is not likely to be more effective if more of this model’s
“conditions for learning” are met.
Master used this step-by-step procedure to teach the use of quotation
marks to a group of self-selected children who had already attempted to use
quotation marks in their writing, and who were already writing complete
sentences fluently. She invited them to join a “Quotation Mark Seminar”
wherein they carried out the following steps (paraphrased from her article
“Build a Skill, Step by Step,” 1977):
1. First, they discussed comic strips and how the author and artist used
balloons to indicate the exact words of a character. The children
agreed that this was not a feasible way to indicate a character’s words
in a story. This conclusion gave Master the opportunity to explain
how punctuation marks are used in direct quotations.
2. The group made up “funny or exciting statements for the cartoon
characters on the board” and then punctuated them together.
3. The students were assigned the task of finding a three-frame comic
strip, pasting it on paper, and rewriting the conversation using
quotation marks.
4. The following day, Master assigned some pages from an English
textbook dealing with direct and indirect quotations. The group
discussed these pages, then completed and corrected the exercises.
5. Next, the children were directed to their writing folders to find a
piece of writing that contained conversation, then to rewrite it with
correct punctuation of the direct quotes. They were encouraged to
use dialogue from their classmates’ writing if their own writing did
not contain dialogue.
6. The next step involved writing a dialogue between characters in one
of the pictures Master showed the children. Of course, they were to
try to punctuate the dialogue correctly.
7. Later, Master made up a progress report (instead of a report card) for
a fictional character, Marvin Termite; the progress report contained
poor grades and comments. The children were asked to write the
conversation between Marvin and his mother about the progress
report and, of course, to punctuate the dialogue correctly.
8. Children who still needed more practice were asked to write a
conversation that might have taken place between Marvin’s mother
164 AN INVITATION
and his teacher, as well as a conversation between Marvin’s parents
about the progress report.
After describing this sequence of activities, Master comments: “I hope that

after the completion of this series of structured exercises, the children’s
writing will contain more examples of dialogue correctly paragraphed and
punctuated. Evaluation of the efficiency of the instruction will be made by
the presence and use of punctuation marks in the children’s free writing.
Should some children still demonstrate the need for further instruction,
additional exercises could be designed” (p. 92).
MinbLessons and Other Constructivist Teaching Strategies
Master’s step-by-step sequence for teaching the use of quotation marks is

anything but a mini-lesson, yet it does seem to reflect some principles of
cognitive learning theory, with its emphasis on active construction of
concepts.
First of all, Master worked with self'Selected students who were already
using dialogue in their writing and experimenting with quotation marks.
Thus, the situation met the conditions of need and motivation.
Second, Master engineered a situation in which the children them¬
selves would conclude that something other than dialogue balloons is
needed to show, in writing, the actual words of a speaker. (Of course, this
step may have been unnecessary, since the children were already experi¬
menting with quotation marks.)
Third, she did not test the students on quotation marks in isolation
from real writing (though indeed some of the activities may seem rather
artificial). She went from teaching the concepts to application, however
artificial the application activities may seem.
From a constructivist point of view, though, we might ask, “Wasn’t
there way too much practice in artificial activities apart from the children’s
editing of their own writing?” Obviously Master was trying, through such
practice, to increase the students’ understanding of the concepts she had
taught, and to ensure that they could apply the concepts. Was the amount
of practice too much, too little, or perhaps just right?
Teachers newly introduced to the concept of the mini-lesson often find
it difficult to even understand how you could teach something and expect
that at least some students will have partially learned it, unless they practice

FIGURE 6.4 Brainstorming/clustering and subsequent writing in a “Show, don’t tell”
lesson.
the skill under the teacher’s guidance and correction. And indeed, such
expanded or extended minhlessons may be valuable, particularly for learn¬
ing grammatical concepts that are relatively difficult to grasp. Thus the
Appendix of this book includes four major kinds of lessons, each reflect¬
ing—in some way, and to greater or lesser degree—a constructivist view of
learning. Often, these kinds of lessons are intermingled, so that I have made
no attempt to identify them in the Appendix itself. But for clarification,
here are what I see as the four major kinds of lessons.
Incidental Lessons
The teacher teaches something through conversation and casual mention:
that is, through exposure more than through direct instruction. For exam¬
ple, in helping students brainstorm for words to describe something, the
teacher can casually ask for words and phrases to identify “this naming
word, this noun.” The describers can be referred to as “adjective” words and
166 MINI'LESSONS AND OTHER CONSTRUCTIVIST TEACHING STRATEGIES

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phrases, which “modify” the noun. Figure 6.4, from one of Scott Peterson’s
fourth graders, shows an example of the kind of brainstorming and cluster^
ing that naturally calls for the use of terms like noun and adjective, when
done first as a whole class. This sample of Amy’s work shows her own
brainstorming and then the piece she wrote. If her writing were later put
on transparency and shared with the class, Scott might ask the class what
words Amy used to describe the moon. Then he might summarize by
mentioning that moon is a noun, a naming word, and that words that
describe or modify a noun are called adjectives. Scott might lead the class
to note, too, the -ing phrases that modify wind and ice cream. Both of these
modifiers are present participial phrases, but the teacher might just note

that these phrases, too, work like adjectives, to modify naming words.
Repeated use of the terms for basic parts of speech helps students grasp the
concept in much the same way they have learned what a sweater is, or a
car, or a chair. Just as it takes repeated use of words like sweater and
sweatshirt and jacket to differentiate them, so it will take repeated use of
grammatical terms for students to grasp their most essential features. How-
ever, such incidental use can be valuable preparation for later focusing on
the noun-plus-verb (subject-plus-predicate) essence of sentences, or for the
concept of free modifiers that add detail and style to sentences. (See the
Appendix for examples of how grammatical terms can be taught and learned
incidentally, through picture books.)
Dorothy Strickland of Rutgers University offers the following descrip¬
tion of how parts of speech—in this case, adjectives—can be explored
through literature and the students’ and teacher’s own writing, in a series
of activities that extend over several days. As the students read and employ
descriptive language, the teacher can teach the use, concept, and term of
adjective (and the concept of adjectival, which includes anything function¬
ing the way an adjective does). Strickland points out that several literary
pieces should be used to help students get a “feel” for the language element
under study (in this case, adjectives) as demonstrated by professional writ¬
ers, the teacher, and each other. Students learn about language as they use
it. The capital letters to the left of the explanation indicate the steps of
the lesson sequence that correspond to the conditions for language and
literacy learning articulated by Cambourne (1988). (For discussion of some
of these conditions, see Chapter 3 of the present book.)
IMMERSION The teacher briefly introduces and reads the poem

Honey 1 Love, by Eloise Greenfield (1978). This is
essentially a descriptive list of things that the poet,
Read aloud & response or the persona of the poem, loves. After soliciting
open-ended response, the teacher gently guides
discussion toward certain matters, such as the
question of whether the poet might be drawing upon
personal experiences from her own childhood.
Particular attention is paid to visual imagery.
Second reading Before reading the poem for a second time, the
teacher tells children to listen for and create “mind
pictures” of their favorite parts. These parts and the
children’s mind pictures are discussed and described
(they have not yet seen the text or the pictures).
Discussion follows about how poets and authors help
readers create mind pictures.
168 MIN I'LESSONS AND OTHER CONSTRUCTIVIST TEACHING STRATEGIES

DEMONSTRATION The teacher writes his or her own short piece (free
verse or prose) about something the teacher loves.
Write aloud This is a brief write-aloud in which the teacher
demonstrates idea generation, drafting, and editing.
EXPECTATION The students brainstorm for what they might write

Brainstorming about and discuss ways to make their readers
visualize what they read. Some students share
examples of how they might phrase something.
RESPONSIBILITY Over the next few days, students work on their

Drafting pieces. Writing conferences are held in which
descriptive language is a major focus. The term
adjective is used to describe some of the kinds of
USE words that are used. Students are helped to see that
the use of adjectives is only one part of what makes
a passage descriptive.
APPROXIMATION Students share and discuss the use of language in

their pieces. The teacher gives extra help to students
who need assistance in revising what they have
Revising written. Other students who have already drafted
and revised may be helped to collect metaphors and
other interesting uses of language from the work of
Eloise Greenfield and other writers; these examples
are shared with the class.
Editing Students continue to confer as they edit their

writing; those who need it receive additional help
from the teacher.
RESPONSE As students read and respond to each others’ work,

the teacher guides them in coming to a definition of
what adjectives are and an understanding of how ad'
Conceptualizing, jectives and adjectivally functioning groups of words
naming, assist in description and help the reader create “mind
publication pictures.” They publish their work in some way, such
as through a class book of “I love” poems or prose.
Imitating syntactic constructions can teach the use of grammatical

patterns incidentally too. Take, for example, Bears in the Night (Berenstain
and Berenstain, 1971), which served as the model for Kendall’s “story”
in Figure 6.5; a similar book with prepositional phrases is Rosie's Walk
(Hutchins, 1968). The first graders’ story “Mrs. Strawn Mows the Lawn”
(Figure 4.18) was likewise based on a book in the children’s classroom.
Many books for young children have syntactic patterns that invite imita'
tion. However, students of all ages can be invited to compose something
based on a literary model having syntax that might extend their own
grammatical resources as writers, through imitation.

FIGURE 6.5 Part of story by Kendall, a kindergartner.
Inductive Lessons
An inductive lesson is one in which students notice patterns and derive
generalizations for themselves. Teachers often structure such lessons so that
certain conclusions are inevitable; an example is the lesson in the Appem
dix emphasizing certain patterns with auxiliary verbs. (Note, though, that
the teacher may end up pointing out the patterns, in which case the lesson
has become deductive, with direct teaching of rules and examples.) While
such structured lessons may be most common (to save class time, if for no
other reason), inductive lessons can be much less structured, with the
possibility that students will discover something or see patterns that the
teacher has not noticed. The kinds of grammatical exploration and inves^
tigation described in Postman and Weingartner’s Linguistics: A Revolution
in Teaching (1966) can be delightful ways to learn to draw generalizations
as a scientist does, when sufficient class time can be devoted to such
investigation.
170 MINI-LESSONS AND OTHER CONSTRUCTIVIST TEACHING STRATEGIES

Mini-Lessons
As described by Atwell (1987) and Calkins (1986), a mini-lesson is a five-
or ten-minute explanation of something. It is direct and to the point. For
example, the teacher can present a brief mini-lesson sharing one of his or
her strategies for generating writing topics, or demonstrating what it means
to “show, don’t tell,” or explaining how to use the semicolon to connect
grammatical sentences. (See the Appendix for a mini-lesson on the last
topic.) Over time, the teacher may present a set or sequence of mini-lessons
on the same or related topics, such as the structure of clauses and gram¬
matical sentences, subject-verb agreement, and the nature and uses of free
modifiers. Several sets or sequences of mini-lessons are included in the
Appendix. Although the mini-lesson reflects direct teaching, which is
commonly associated with a behavioral paradigm, it is constructivist in
other ways. Namely, students are not required to practice the concept in
isolation from authentic learning activities like writing pieces of interest to
them, nor are they required to take a test on the material taught. Instead,
they are given help in applying the concepts to what they are doing as
readers, writers, and learners.
Extended Mini-Lessons
This is my own concept, based on my teaching practices and those of others.
It often seems that a mini-lesson will be most successful in conveying a
concept if students actively try to demonstrate or apply it, briefly and
coilaboratively. For example, if I present to the whole class a mini-lesson
or lessons on using the apostrophe in possessives, I may conclude with three
or four examples on transparency where students are to decide whether the
apostrophe is needed and, if so, where it should go. Or, if I present a
mini-lesson on demonstrating the effectiveness of participial phrases or
absolutes as free modifiers, I may extend the lesson by having the class do
a sentence-combining activity (as a whole class or in smaller groups) to
help them learn to use such constructions. Or, I may ask them to write an
“I am” poem or something similar in which they try to use one or both of
these constructions. (Such lessons are included in the Appendix.) Granted,
the latter is an artificial kind of writing activity, but quite often a number
of writers produce poems that they really like. If not—well, the activity is
brief and may stimulate the use of free modifiers in other pieces of writing.
Notice, however, that the “practice” is designed to clarify the concepts, not
necessarily to ensure mastery, as in a behavioral paradigm of teaching. I

fully expect to have to guide writers individually in combining and expand'
ing their sentences with free modifiers. This is why I think of such lessons
as extended minblessons, still within the constructivist paradigm because
they involve learners actively and include what 1 hope will be just enough
practice to solidify the concept.
Commercially Produced Mini-Lessons:

The Daily Oral Language Program
At least some aspects of a constructivist paradigm are reflected also in
McDougal, LittelTs set of twelve teachers’ manuals (for grades 1-12) which
provide minblessons on punctuation, capitalization, usage, and writing
skills. All the manuals except the one for first grade have thirty'Six weeks
of lessons, five lessons a week, with two sentences a lesson to be corrected.
The manuals suggest that the teacher put the two sentences to be corrected
on the chalkboard—perhaps before class begins or at lunchtime, so that the
sentences will catch the students’ attention as they enter the classroom.
Each sentence has more than one point that needs “correcting.” The
authors of the Daily Oral Language program (Vail and Papenfuss, 1989/
1990) suggest that the teacher invite the students to volunteer needed
corrections orally, while the teacher writes them on the board. Each two-
sentence lesson should require no more than five to ten minutes daily, they
suggest. However, the teacher may have all the students copy the two sen'
tences on paper and try to correct them, before the corrections are shared
orally. This may generate involvement on the part of more students. Such
lessons seem to reflect at least some aspects of the constructivist paradigm.
The teachers’ manual includes a page for each week, with five lessons
per page. In the first column for each page is a list of skills to be covered;
in the second column are sentences for the board; and in the third column
are the correct(ed) sentences. Figure 6.6 includes three days’ lessons from
level 8. When teachers first give up the security of traditional grammar
books, they may find it reassuring to teach such commercially prepared
minidessons. However, they soon realize that the kinds of errors in the sen'
tences being corrected are often not the kinds of errors their own students
are making most frequently. When this happens, many teachers abandon
the teachers’ manual and create minblessons using their own students’ writing.
Lessons Within the Constructivist Paradigm

Notice that all these kinds of lessons—incidental, inductive, minidessons,
and extended minidessons—can potentially be offered to the entire class,
to small groups, or to individuals in one'Oivone conferences. Teaching such
172 MINI-LESSONS AND OTHER CONSTRUCTIVIST TEACHING STRATEGIES

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lessons to small groups and individuals is particularly feasible when the
teacher has created a writing workshop in the class (see Chapter 4), and
of course the smaller the group, the more likely the lessons are to be
understood and used. Certainly there may be other kinds of grammar lessons
that reasonably fall within the constructivist paradigm: lessons that recog'
nize and treat the learner as an active constructor of meaning, either
because of the nature of the lesson itself (e.g., incidental and inductive
lessons especially) or because of the nature of the follow-up and teachers’
expectations (assistance in applying concepts in “real” writing, rather than
isolated practice and testing). However these four kinds of lessons, and
various combinations thereof, describe the grammar lessons that seem most
valuable to me as a teacher of writing.
Early Studies Supporting a Constructivist Model for the

Teaching of Grammar
There is a great deal of research documenting the success of a constructivist

model in literacy education. Some of that research consists of naturalistic
observations; some of it consists of case studies and anecdotal records; and
some of it consists of experimental research comparing the effects of an
experimental approach with the effects of a traditional approach as a
control (for summaries, see Stephens, 1991; Weaver, 1994). However, only
a few of the experimental studies deal with teaching grammatical concepts
through active involvement in writing.
In critiquing summaries of the research on the teaching of grammar,
Martha Kolln (1981) does mention some studies that have shown the
teaching of grammar to be more effective in the context of writing than in
isolation.
The oldest of these studies was conducted by Ellen Frogner, who com¬
pared the effects of a “grammar” approach and a “thought” approach (1939,
as reported in Kolln, 1981). The formal grammar group learned to recognize
infinitives, gerunds, and various kinds of modifying phrases (prepositional,
appositive, participial) and to identify their use in sentences. In addition,
they applied the grammatical concepts by effectively combining short,
choppy sentences and then discussing and correcting errors such as mis¬
placed prepositional phrases and dangling modifiers. The “thought” group
focused on discussing and combining sentences, without being drilled in
the recognition of grammatical constructions. “They thought about and
174 EARLY STUDIES SUPPORTING A CONSTRUCTIVIST MODEL FOR THE TEACHING OF GRAMMAR
discussed coordination and subordination of ideas, parallel structure, and
the relationship of punctuation to meaning” (Kolln, p. 146). What they
wrote, however, were still decontextualized sentences; apparently they did
not deal with sentences in their own writing.
Unfortunately, Frogner used only objective tests and not actual writing
to compare the effectiveness of the two approaches. Even so, the results
from the “thought” approach were more positive, suggesting that teach'
ing sentence combining was more productive than teaching grammatical
concepts, even when both approaches involved discussion of stylistic effec-
tiveness. Interestingly, this approach sounds very much like the sentence
combining that has typically shown positive results in more recent studies
(see the summary in Hillocks and Smith, 1991).
Another study, somewhat similar in nature but more impressive in
scope, is that done by Roland Harris (1962), reported at length by Brad-
dock, Lloyd-Jones, and Schoer (1963). Working with junior high classes in
five London schools in 1960, Harris investigated the effects of “formal
grammar” compared with “direct methods of instruction” in grammatical
concepts relevant to the students’ writing and editing. All the classes had
the same instruction for four of their five class periods each week; only the
fifth class was different. During the fifth class period, the students in the
“direct method” engaged in various writing projects and in “drawing illus¬
trative sentences, points of usage, and paragraphs from the stories to teach
the improvement of writing” (Braddock et ak, p. 78). Apparently these
lessons dealt with aspects of ‘“sentence building and structure’ which came
to the teachers’ attention as they read the children’s writing, treating
common errors in the classroom and in compositions ‘by means of example
and imitation, instead of by the abstraction and generalization of the
approach through formal grammar’” (p. 71). The “formal grammar” group
studied traditional grammar in a program that integrated grammar and
composition lessons; they never had time to engage in the longer writing
projects that occupied students who were taught grammar directly, but in
the context of their own writing.
The differences in the treatment of usage can be illustrated by the
different ways that the teachers handled subject-verb agreement. In the
“formal grammar” class, the students tackled errors like Me and Jim was going
into the cave by using traditional grammatical terminology—for instance, by
explaining that me is the object form and should be replaced by the
nominative form I, and by pointing out that the subject is compound and
hence grammatically plural; therefore the verb should be were, the plural
form. In contrast, the “direct instruction” approach involved leading stu-

dents to the same conclusions by helping them think things through for
themselves. For instance, the teacher might ask, “Would you say ‘Me was
going into the cave?’” When a student would respond no, that he would
use “I,” the teacher could then point out that I is the appropriate form even
if there is another person too. Or the teacher might ask, “Would you say
‘We was going into the cave’?” When a student admits that no, she would
say “We were going into the cave,” the teacher could point out that two
singular subjects together also require the plural form were (based on the
quote from Harris, as cited by Braddock et al., p. 71).
At the end of two years, Harris analyzed compositions that were written
at the beginning and end of the experiment, using eleven different meas¬
ures. These included sentence length, frequency of subordinate clauses and
compound sentences, sentence variety, and the number of essays containing
each of several kinds of common errors. Of the 55 differences computed at
the end of the two-year study, only 11 were statistically significant, but all
11 favored the “direct instruction” group. Of the 25 differences represented
by the 5 most reliable measures, only 6 favored the “formal grammar” group,
and none of these were statistically significant (Braddock et al., p. 80). In
addition, Harris noted that the procedures used with the “direct instruction”
group elicited “‘not only enthusiasm but also a certain self-criticism and
purposive modification of habits of writing”’ (Braddock et al., p. 72). Today,
we might call this “direct instruction” method an inquiry method, since it
involves the students actively.
Though we don’t know enough about these studies to know which or
how many of the conditions favoring learning were operational in them,
one important factor is clear: students seemed to benefit most from the
approaches in which the learning of grammatical concepts was contextual¬
ized and in which they took a more active role. Also clear from both studies
is the fact that studying grammatical terminology was less helpful than
simply discussing and revising or manipulating sentences.
More Recent Research on Grammar in the Writing Process
In 1980, Calkins reported the learning of punctuation in two third-grade

classrooms. In one classroom, the teacher taught simple sentences, periods,
and other aspects of mechanics directly, through dittos and with pre-tests
and post-tests; her teaching reflected the behaviorally based concept of
176 MORE RECENT RESEARCH ON GRAMMAR IN THE WRITING PROCESS

direct instruction that is common today. Though practicing punctuation
extensively, her students rarely wrote. In the other classroom, students
never studied punctuation formally, but instead wrote for an hour a day,
three days a week, learning punctuation as needed to make their meaning
clear, and learning it from the teacher and their peers and the books they
were reading.
At the end of the year, Calkins interviewed all the children in each
class to determine what they knew about punctuation. The children who
had studied punctuation day after day could explain, on the average, only
3.85 marks of punctuation, typically by reciting the rules they had learned
for the period, question mark, and exclamation mark. In contrast, the
students who wrote instead of studying isolated aspects of mechanics could
explain, on the average, 8.66 marks of punctuation. More than half of these
students explained the period, question mark, exclamation mark, apostn>
phe, paragraph sign and caret used in editing, dash, quotation marks, and
commas. Nearly half could explain the colon, parentheses, and asterisk.
These children tended to explain such marks of punctuation not by reciting
memorized rules, but by explaining or demonstrating how the marks were
used in their own writing.
For example, Calkins quotes a third grader, Alan: “If you want your
story to make sense, you can’t write without punctuation. . . . Punctuation
tells people things—like if the sentence is asking, or if someone is talking,
or if you should yell it out.” Another third grader, Chip, said that punctua^
tion “lets you know where the sentence is heading, so otherwise one minute
you’d be sledding down the hill and the next minute you’re inside the house,
without even stopping” (Calkins, 1980, p. 569). The children used pmK>
tuation for special effects, as well as clarity. Eight'-yeanold Andrea, for
instance, remarked, “I keep putting in new kinds of punctuation because I
need them. Like sound effects—it takes weird punctuation to put thud-thud
or splat! onto my paper” (p. 571). Calkins summarizes: “When children
need punctuation in order to be seen and heard, they become vacuum
cleaners, sucking up odd bits from books, their classmates’ papers, billboards,
and magazines. They find punctuation everywhere, and make it their own”
(pp. 572-573).
Calkins did not begin her study at the first of the school year, matching
children on the basis of I.Q. tests or in some other way. Nor did she have
any kind of pre-test that would have facilitated rigorous before-and-after
comparisons. However, this lack of scientific rigor does not seriously com'
promise the obvious conclusion: that children learn punctuation better not

by studying it in isolation but by trying to use it effectively in writing for
purposes of their own.
Another, more extensive and more formal study is reported by DiSte-
fano and Killion (1984). Faced with district writing skills objectives and
“objective” tests of those skills, a group of Colorado teachers proposed to
the district that they compare the effectiveness of direct but decontextuab
ized teaching of skills with a writing process approach to teaching those
same skills. Also, they proposed that a writing sample be the measure of
effectiveness, rather than an objective test. The district agreed, provided
that all the district writing skills would be assessed. These included capb
talization, punctuation, spelling, sentence structure, format, and usage. The
teachers added a seventh criterion, organization.
Five levels of proficiency were established for each criterion at each
grade level. Since the proficiency levels changed for each grade level, scores
could be compared only within a given grade level, fourth through sixth.
Six elementary schools participated in the study, with three randomly
chosen to be in the process group (the experimental group) and the other
three assigned to the skills group (the control group); teachers in the
experimental schools received thirteen hours of in-service instruction from
colleagues experienced in the writing process approach. Students in all
three grades wrote on an assigned topic in September and again in May.
Results from analyzing the students’ papers and assigning proficiency
ratings showed that growth in punctuation, capitalization, and format did
not differ significantly between the groups. At all three grade levels, the
experimental group did significantly better on organization. Differences in
sentence structure also favored the experimental group at the two higher
grade levels; this criterion involved using a variety of sentence types, with
no fragments or run-ons. Usage and spelling also favored the experimental
group at all three grade levels. DiStefano and Killion (1984) conclude:
The control group did not do better than the experimental group on any
criterion at any of the three grade levels. Overall, the process model was
a huge success when the results of those schools participating in the
program are compared with the results of the control group. This study
also demonstrates that traditional skills can be measured by looking closely
at actual writing, (p. 207)
Of course, such results are not surprising to anyone convinced of the validity
of a constructivist model of learning and teaching.
178 MORE RECENT RESEARCH ON GRAMMAR IN THE WRITING PROCESS

Summary of the Research
As we have seen in earlier chapters, research does not support the teaching
of formal grammar systematically and through isolated lessons and drill, on
the grounds that a knowledge of grammar is useful to writers, readers,
speakers, and listeners, or to students learning another language. From this
and other bodies of research, the following conclusions seem warranted:
1. Studying grammar as a system, in isolation from its use, is not in fact the
best use of instructional time if better writing (or reading) is the intended
goal of grammar study.
2. In learning their native language, young children acquire the major

grammatical constructions of their language naturally, without direct in-
struction. They develop an intuitive grasp of syntax that they use in writing
and reading as well as in speaking. Therefore, they do not need to be taught
grammar in order to write or read.
3. Wide reading may, in fact, be one of the best routes to the further
acquisition of grammar; indeed, even listening to literature read aloud has
been shown to stimulate the acquisition of syntax, as well as vocabulary.
4- Writing, of course, is equally critical. But students will not necessarily

learn new grammatical constructions from writing alone, unless teachers
help them learn to combine sentences and manipulate syntax.
5. Focusing on certain aspects of grammar may have some place in the ac-
quisition of an additional language, particularly for adults and adolescents,
and particularly after they have acquired the basics of the language. Flow-
ever, studying the grammatical system of a new language does not facilitate
the acquisition of that language as readily as being immersed in and
attempting to use the language in all its modes (listening, speaking, reading,
and writing).
6. In general, analyzing language—the focus of traditional grammar instruct

tion—is much less helpful to writers than a focus on sentence generating,
combining, and manipulating.
7. Similarly, attending to usage, punctuation, and other aspects of mechan-

ics and sentence structure in the context of writing is considerably more
effective than teaching usage and mechanics in isolation. Students revise
their sentences and edit their writing more effectively when sentence
revision and editing skills have been taught in the context of their own
writing.
The Need for Informal as Well as Formal Research
The traditional, systematic teaching of grammar in isolation reflects a

behavioral theory of teaching and learning. In contrast, a constructivist
theory of learning and teaching underlies the teaching of selected aspects
of grammar, mostly when issues arise and needs are observed within stu¬
dents’ writing. Some teaching practices, of course, fit somewhere in be¬
tween. For example, the Daily Oral Language program seems to reflect the
notion that practice (week after week, year after year) makes perfect, a
behavioral concept. Also, the lessons are taught according to a timetable,
not according to what the teacher perceives students’ needs to be (and it
would be difficult to choose lessons based on need, because each lesson
covers more than one point and the lessons are not categorized to facilitate
selective use or reordering). On the other hand, the lessons are intended
as relatively brief; they focus on the use of grammatical concepts, rather
than the isolated study of grammar; and they involve students actively, at
least in theory. In these respects the daily lessons reflect a constructivist
paradigm.
Clearly, more formal research is needed. For example, we might want
to know whether teaching grammatical skills only in the context of their
use works best, or whether it is more effective to teach daily oral language
lessons in “correcting” sentences and, in addition, to focus on skills as they
are needed.
Before or instead of doing experimental research, though, most of us
will surely want to experiment informally with different ways of teaching
grammar from a constructive paradigm, mostly in the context of students’
writing. Thus the purpose of the Appendix is to share some of my own
experiments, so that others can draw from and improve upon the lessons
that seem most appropriate for their own teaching—and keep observing
what does and does not work, and keep refining their own lessons and
teaching too. Such informal teacher research is critical in improving our
instruction, whether or not it later forms the basis for experimental research.
180 THE NEED FOR INFORMAL AS WELL AS FORMAL RESEARCH

Afterword
Conclusion and a New Beginning
June 17, 1995. Yesterday I conducted a half-day workshop on teaching

grammar in context with some teachers from the Spring Arbor, Michigan,
area. I shared with them some of the research, arguments, and recommem
dations from this book:
• The general conclusion from ninety years of research: that

teaching grammar in isolation, as a school subject, does not seem
to have much effect on the writing of more than a few students.
• The research suggesting that teaching selected aspects of
grammar in the context of writing is more productive.
• The observation that teaching all the parts of speech and
structures commonly taught in traditional grammar books seems
to be an inefficient way of accomplishing our aims as teachers of
writing. We can accomplish more with less.
• The recommendation that we not try to teach grammar as a
complete description of the structure of English (except, perhaps,
in an elective course or unit), but instead that we focus our
teaching on those concepts and terms that are most helpful in
discussing sentence expansion, revision, and editing.
• The suggestion that we focus instructional attention on those
aspects of grammar that are particularly helpful in creating,
rearranging, and revising sentences for greater stylistic
effectiveness.
• The suggestion that we also attend particularly to those aspects
of grammar that are most critical in helping students punctuate
sentences conventionally.
• The suggestion that while a few basic grammatical concepts may
be taught in separate language lessons, such concepts should
generally be taught and reinforced as students are revising and
editing their writing.
• The suggestion that we use methods that are highly motivating,
in order to encourage students to develop and apply relevant
181
concepts (a constructivist concept of learning, in contrast to the
behavioral concept that has dominated the traditional teaching
of grammar throughout the twentieth century).
• The suggestion that we not bother testing students on their
command of grammar but rather that we help them apply and
learn to apply the most useful concepts—again, a reflection of
the constructivist rather than the behavioral concept of learning.
In addition, I shared some of my experiments in teaching grammar in

context, most of which are included in the Appendix.
Here are some of the conclusions that emerged from the teachers’
responses, our discussion, and my further reflection upon it:
• “Research” can be used to prove almost anything. Therefore, we

must read the research thoughtfully, looking for what it does not
tell us as well as what it does.
• On the other hand, we can use this truism as an excuse to avoid
examining the assumptions and teaching practices we are
comfortable with.
• As teachers, we need to be open to learning from research, but
also to be discerning critics of it. We need to value and validate
our own experience, but also to reconsider our preconceptions
and be willing to take risks that may make our teaching more
effective or efficient.
• We need to keep in mind that new learning involves not only
risks, but new kinds of errors and less than fully successful
experiments, on the part of both teachers and students.
• It is also important to reconsider our traditional attempt to ferret
out the alleged errors in students’ writing—partly because
published writers break the rules, and even more important,
because by focusing too soon or too much upon errors, we limit
students’ growth as writers. Time enough for judicious editing
after students have drafted and revised their writings for content,
organization, sentence structure, and style.
• We also need to remember that no matter what we do in
teaching grammar, not all of our students will immediately, or
even eventually, become versatile stylists and expert copy editors.
Learning to use a greater range of syntactic structures more
effectively and to edit according to accepted conventions takes
years, not days or weeks. We need to be patient with ourselves
and our students, and to recognize and help others understand
182 AFTERWORD
that new methods do not have to accomplish miracles in order to
be better than old methods.
The struggle to reconsider the old and take risks with the new was
exemplified in our workshop by Pat Short, who became interested a year
ago in the possibility of teaching less grammar, but teaching it more
efficiently and in ways that would have more impact on students’ writing.
One of my extended mini-lessons during the workshop involved using
present participial phrases in “I am” poems describing ourselves. Pat wrote:
I am anxious . . .
Worried my students will, like Anthony’s Roman citizens,
“Rise up and mutiny,”
Changing lesson plans in mid-hour, sometimes mid-sentence,
Searching for self-esteem builders, theirs and mine,
Encouraging writing that rings with voice and validity,
Swearing to honor writers but still red-marking writing,
Praying to validate colleagues while trying to destroy the “five
paragraph essay” syndrome.
I am still in process . . .
Like Pat, the teachers in the grammar support group I mentioned in

the Preface are in process—as I am too, of course. We are not necessarily
ready to undertake, or interested in undertaking, comparative research that
will help demonstrate the superiority of teaching grammar in context rather
than in isolation. However, we are continuing to experiment with teaching
less grammar in such ways that our teaching may have more effect on
students’ writing. We invite you to join us in our quest for better ways of
teaching those aspects of grammar that seem most important for writers.
Join with us and with Susan Spear, who writes:
I am a question mark
Seeking, searching
Open to more and more ideas
Wondering if a period is truly at the end
We think not.
Afterword 183
♦
Appendix
Sample Lessons on Selected Aspects of Grammar
In developing and choosing lessons to share in this Appendix, I have

illustrated the different kinds of lessons described in Chapter 6: incidental
lessons, inductive lessons, mini-lessons, extended mini-lessons, and various
combinations and sequences thereof. Teachers who need more background
in grammar to adapt and expand these lessons or develop their own might
find Diana Hacker’s A Writer’s Reference (1995) particularly useful. More
realistic in its assessment of how the language is really used by educated
people is The Right Handbook: Grammar and Usage in Context, by Belanoff,
Rorschach, and Oberlink (1993). Both of these would also be excellent
references for students at the high school and college levels.
Usually, it works well for the teacher to make transparencies for the
concepts being taught, and to use different colored transparency pens to
clarify particular constructions, marks of punctuation, and so forth. I prefer
to use examples from students’ own writing or examples from literature,
such as the many published examples in Scott Rice’s Right Words, Right
Places (1993); in practice, though, I all too often find myself concocting
short examples that can easily be printed by hand on a transparency. All
these lessons can be taught to the entire class or to a smaller group of
students, but follow-up application commonly needs to be guided individu¬
ally. Or to put it bluntly, without further guidance, such lessons will not neces¬
sarily transfer to students’ own writing any better than traditional grammar book
exercises have done; they simply reflect a more efficient use of time than the
traditional practice exercises and tests. Students will inevitably need guidance in
applying these concepts during revision and editing.
This Appendix also includes at least one and sometimes several lessons
reflecting each category in Figure 5.13, A Minimum of Grammar for Maxi¬
mum Benefits:
• Teaching concepts of subject, verb, clause, sentence

• Teaching style through sentence combining and sentence
generating
185
• Teaching sentence sense and style through the manipulation of
syntactic elements
• Teaching the power of dialects and dialects of power
• Teaching punctuation and mechanics for clarity and style
The lessons are not always in this order, though. Rather, the ordering
reflects the interrelationships among concepts and skills. Generally, I have
made no claim or suggestion as to the grade levels at which lessons of a
particular kind might be taught. The individual teacher needs to decide,
based on assessment of what will benefit his or her students. It is also
important to note that several of the lessons might be better taught as two
or more separate but related minblessons.
In examining these lessons, you will notice that I have freely used not
only the grammatical terms suggested as basic in Chapter 5, but other terms
as well. I include them partly because some readers will want to see the
terms with which they are familiar, but also because I think such terms can
be used to communicate even when the reader does not necessarily have a
prior concept of the term. In other words, I use such terms incidentally,
without expecting everyone to be familiar with them or to learn them. I
think we can use such terms the same way with our students. However, in
the Glossary I have defined and illustrated the terms that have been
particularly emphasized in this book, including all the terms in listed in
Chapter 5.
Most of these are lessons I have taught with students in various classes
at the college level, but particularly with the preservice and inservice
teachers in my Grammar and Teaching Grammar class. In working with
those enrolled in this course, I have usually had a dual or triple aim: to
teach something that could benefit them as writers themselves; to suggest
and exemplify something that they might profitably teach to their students,
at least in simplified form; and to model possible ways of teaching grammar
in context. Here, these suggestions often look like rather formal lesson
plans, with goals indicated and the reader addressed as “you.” But to
emphasize the fact that these lessons represent ongoing experimentation,
some lessons or parts of them have been written in a more conversational
tone—to share what I have done as a teacher at the college level and
sometimes to make suggestions for how my experiments might be modified
to achieve goals at other levels. This, I hope, will also emphasize the fact
that adaptations will usually be necessary as well as desirable: that we must
all to some extent reinvent the wheel of effective instruction in our own
classrooms, even while we share our efforts with each other, collaborate
186 APPENDIX
with one another, and benefit from others’ experiences. Without further
ado, then, here are some of my experiments with teaching grammar in
context—beginning with a lesson that does not fit comfortably under any
of the five preceding categories.
Teaching the Meaningful Parts of Words
This topic does not fit comfortably under the heading of grammar unless
we expand that term to include the internal grammar or structure of words.
But because the meaningful parts of words seem to be so infrequently taught
these days, I have chosen to include a mini-lesson to remind teachers of
the importance of this topic to our students as readers and writers.
goal To help readers learn to decipher words and expand their vocabu¬
laries by attending to the meaningful parts of words.
rationale This kind of lesson is valuable for students across the grades.
The meanings of common prefixes are often taught in the primary grades,
while the meanings of common Latin and Greek bases can be introduced
as early as the intermediate grades and taught throughout high school and
beyond.
possible procedures To decide what to teach, choose a meaningful ele¬

ment that occurs in words the students are likely to know. Brainstorm for
words that include this element, then ask students what the element is
likely to mean, considering the meanings of the words they have brain¬
stormed. Once the class has decided the meaning through discussion, offer
two or three more words that contain the element. Invite students to
consider what these words might mean or to explain how the meaning of
the element contributes to the meaning of the whole word.
Examples
1. Brainstorm for words that include the element ped: pedal, pedestal, moped,
pedestrian, and so forth. Try to determine the meaning of ped. (It comes
from a Latin word meaning “foot.”) Other words for discussion might
include pedometer, peddler, pedicure, centipede, expedite, impede; words with
the same root spelled differently are tripod and octopus.
Appendix 187
2. Brainstorm for words that include the element trains: transportation,
transit, transcontinental, and so forth. (It comes from Latin and means
“across.”) Other words for discussion might include transact, transfer, trans¬
late, translucent, transmission, and transparency.
teacher resources For lists of Latin and Greek elements, teachers can
consult Gentry and Wallace, Teaching Kids to Spell (1993). A much more
complete resource is Smith, Dictionary of English Word-Roots (1966).
Teaching Grammar Incidentally: Basic Parts

of Speech and Structures
Both the names for parts of speech and the use of grammatical constructions
can be taught and learned incidentally, in the course of reading and writing.
1. Learning the Names of Basic Parts of Speech
goals/rationale As explained in Chapter 6, I firmly believe that stm

dents can develop considerable familiarity with some grammatical terms
simply through our using the terms repeatedly, in a context that makes their
meaning reasonably clear. This, for example, is how children commonly
learn most of the words in our language. We may explicitly repeat, for our
babies and toddlers, some of the basic naming words of the language, while
pointing to the object: words like ball, for instance, or doggie. But most
words—even most nouns—are surely learned incidentally, as we and others
use the words in meaningful sentences and later as our children read books
and more books.
At the college level, I want to refresh my students’ memory of basic
terms like noun, verb, adjective, and adverb. Even though these terms are
not all equally necessary for talking about style or the conventions of
language, they are useful—and it is relatively easy for students of all ages
to develop some understanding of the terms without formal study and
analysis.
possible procedures One mini-lesson involves sharing the alphabet book

Animalia (1986), by Graeme Base. I typically read the descriptions for the
first four letters of the alphabet, then hand the book around the class.
Beforehand, I have put these four descriptions on a transparency, which we
188 TEACHING GRAMMAR INCIDENTALLY: BASIC PARTS OF SPEECH AND STRUCTURES

examine. In uAn armored armadillo avoiding an angry alligator,” we have
the opportunity to comment upon nouns, adjectives, and what appears to
be a verb: avoiding. We note that we would need is or was for the verb and
the sentence to be complete. Adverbs occur too in the phrases for C and
D, as in “Diabolical dragons daintily devouring delicious delicacies.” Shan
ing this book gives me the opportunity to share a resource that can be used
with students of all ages, to reiterate the point that we can teach basic
grammatical terminology just by using it, and to explain that students may
learn the terms as well or better through such incidental teaching as
through grammar book exercises and testing. (After all, do we test children
on the meanings of words like coat, chair, desk, pants, and love? Usually not,
but they learn the essential meanings of these and thousands of other words
from being exposed to them in meaningful contexts.)
2. Expanding Awareness of Basic Parts of Speech

Another incidental lesson, an additional or alternative one, involves shar-
ing four books by Ruth Heller. In groups, students examine and comment
on these books, learning whatever is meaningful to them. The books are
Merry-go-round: A book about nouns (1990), Kites sail high: A booh about
verbs (1988), Many luscious lollipops: A book about adjectives (1989), A cache
of jewels and other collective nouns (1989).
3. Expanding Awareness of Parts of Speech During Writing

Another mini-lesson involves sharing how I use grammatical terms inci¬
dentally in the context of encouraging and discussing students’ writing. For
example, in pointing out effective use of verbs and adjectives, I simply use
those terms without pre-teaching them, giving practice exercises on iden¬
tifying verbs and adjectives, or testing students on their ability to identify
words functioning as verbs or as adjectives. Other teachers I know do the
same thing. With college students, I also use some terms to which they may
never have been introduced: terms like participial phrase and absolute (see
later in the Appendix for a set of lessons on those constructions). Chapter
6 includes a discussion of two writing activities wherein grammatical ter¬
minology was used incidentally.
4. Learning Grammatical Structures by Imitating Literature

Wide reading is one of the best ways to acquire the ability to comprehend
and use a wide range of syntactic structures. However, imitating sentence
patterns in writing is valuable too. Any good-quality literature is a good
candidate. In the elementary grades, children can imitate the structure of
Appendix 189
patterned books in writing of their own; see, for instance, the examples in
Chapter 4. Examples of very simple books for imitating the use of preposi-
tional phrases are Bears in the Night (Berenstain and Berenstain, 1971),
Rosie’s Walk (Hutchins, 1968), and A Dark, Dark Tale (Brown, 1988).
Bernard Most’s If the Dinosaurs Came Back (1978) encourages imitation of
the hypothetical if clause. Possibilities abound for imitating various kinds
of structures used by published writers. By the middle school or junior high
level, many students should benefit from imitating literary sentences that
feature constructions like the appositive, the participial phrase, and the
absolute. Some students (like the kindergartner in Figure 5.11) will have
begun using such structures much earlier and can therefore probably benefit
from additional guidance in their use. Examples can be drawn from good-
quality picture books, for many of their authors have used sophisticated
grammatical constructions.
Teaching Subject, Verb, Clause, Sentence,

and Related Concepts for Editing
goals/rationale As explained in Chapter 5, students need to under¬

stand some basic grammatical concepts if they are to punctuate by rule
rather than just by intuition. Not that intuition is bad: it goes a long way,
for many writers. But in order to eliminate ineffective fragments and comma
splices from their writing, most writers probably need to understand the
following concepts, at a minimum,
• Subject and verb

• Clause, as distinguished from phrase
• Independent clause, as distinguished from dependent clause
The concepts of subject and verb are also important in understanding

subject-verb agreement, another concept relevant in editing.
It should be noted that traditional definitions of the sentence are, in
themselves, not very helpful in identifying sentences. A sentence is com¬
monly defined as “a group of words that expresses a complete thought” or
as ua group of words that contains a subject and a predicate and expresses
a complete thought.” But even the latter definition is not precise enough
to serve as the basis for a discovery procedure, a procedure for determining
what is and what isn’t a sentence, grammatically speaking. For example, a
190 TEACHING SUBJECT, VERB, CLAUSE, SENTENCE, AND RELATED CONCEPTS FOR EDITING
subordinate clause has a subject and a predicate, but it is not grammatically
complete. Students often consider a construction like the reason being that
we were late to be a sentence, because it has a subject of sorts (reason) and
a verb form (being), not to mention a subject and verb in the subordinate
clause. In context, such a construction often seems complete, at least to
some students; after all, it completes the sentence that came before! How^
ever, being is not a complete verb and therefore the construction is not a
sentence or clause. Similarly, an absolute construction is nearly an inde^
pendent clause, but not quite. For example, the absolute its muddy waters
picking up speed needs a BE verb to be grammatically complete: its muddy
waters were picking up speed. (Alternatively, the absolute could be changed
to a clause: its muddy waters picked up speed.) In any case, these examples
of students’ confusion should help teachers understand why the traditional
definitions of the sentence are insufficient as the basis for discovery proce^
dures. See, too, the discussion in Chapter 6, which mentions Harris and
Rowan’s research (1989) into college students’ common confusions when
asked to identify what is and what is not a sentence. As Hartwell (1985)
puts it, most definitions of the sentence are COIK: clear only if known, if
the concept of a sentence is already understood (p. 119).
To predetermine older students’ grasp of the concept of a sentence, one
might replicate the study by Harris and Rowan (see Figure A.l for their
sentences). Another option is to have students divide into Tmnits the part
of “The Graveyard’’ narrative that hasn’t already been so divided (Figure
5.6). What I myself usually use is “The Frog’1 essay in Gary Paulsen’s The
Island (1988). Allegedly written by the fourteemyeanold protagonist of the
book, this essay is a challenge because it sometimes embeds Tmnits within
other T-units. I type the essay without sentence end punctuation and ask
my students to work in groups to set off the T-units with brackets. After
checking the Tmnit divisions, we move from grammatical to rhetorical
considerations, discussing the ways we think this adolescent’s narrative
“should’’ be punctuated; finally, we compare it with the original and appre^
date Paulsen’s skill in capturing the voice of an adolescent writer.
The following lessons are designed to introduce my students to these

concepts in ways that they might profitably adapt to teaching at their
various grade levels (to the extent that the concepts are appropriate). These
lessons are divorced from the writing process but provide a foundation that
the teacher can draw upon in helping students edit their writing. Because
students often learn and remember more when they are actively involved
through manipulating data and even things, some of these lessons involve
Appendix 191
FIGURE A.l Sentence or fragment? (Harris and Rowan, 1989).
My Brothers
(1) The phrase I heard only too often when I was younger was “You’re too
little to play.” (2) Whatever my older brothers did I wanted to do,
wherever they went I wanted to go. (3) Pat being two years older than
myself and allowed to hang out with Randy, being four years older. (4)
Since there was such a difference in age, I developed different and unique
relationships with each.
(5) My brothers have clashing identities. (6) Total opposites of each
other. (7) First, Pat is the kind of brother you see on television. (8) The
kind that would help you with your homework and your problems. (9)
Randy, on the other hand, isn’t the smartest brother in the world but, he’s
been around and knows a lot. (10). The best summary of Randy is that
he’s the Mr. Hyde of Pat. (11) Not exactly bad, though a lot different.
(12) He has no patience especially when he gets angry. (13) Then he goes
on apologizing for days.
(14) There are traits in both of my brothers that I dislike. (15) First,
Pat is too perfect. (16) Much too perfect for his own good. (17) The biggest
annoyance is that he gets great grades. (18) And he’s always so nice to
people that bother him. (19) Because he thinks it’s important to be polite.
(20) Not to mention his mannerisms are good at all times. (21) Randy
likes to move around a lot. (22) He gets bored with a job fast and easy.
(23) He just can’t stay in the office very much. (24) Which makes him a
very good salesman.
(25) To sum up, we have our differences. (26) But that’s just like any
other family. (27) I still like them both very much. (28) Any differences
that I may have because of age or size which wasn’t resolved or will be
through time. (29) For a final note to this assignment. (30) I would never
say any of this to their faces, just on paper.
manipulables. However, there is always a trade-off in having students

manipulate things and draw conclusions: that is, the lessons take longer
and are anything but “mini.”
Because there are so many lessons in this set, an overview is given here:
1. Subject and verb, and the concept of clause

2. Subjects and verbs: emphasis on auxiliary and main verbs
3. Basic subject^verb agreement
4. Subject'verb agreement when a prepositional phrase modifies the
subject
5. Connecting independent clauses
6. Independent and dependent clauses, and the concept of fragment
7. Eliminating run-ons and comma splices
8. Making limited but effective use of the comma splice
9. Phrases contrasted with clauses; more on the fragment
10. Eliminating fragments; using fragments sparingly but effectively
11. Fragments, fused sentences, and comma splices (differently
sequenced set of lessons)
12. Connecting clauses with conjunctive adverbs and punctuating them
conventionally
13. Comparing the uses of, and punctuation associated with,
coordinating conjunctions, subordinating conjunctions, and
conjunctive adverbs
I. Understanding Subjects and Verbs, and the Concept of Clause
goals To help writers understand that sentences consist of at least a

subject plus a verb as predicate, and that the verb can actually be a phrase
of several words.
rationale Editing for subject-verb agreement requires understanding and

being able to identify subjects and verbs. Such an understanding will also
be helpful for writers who punctuate most sentences correctly, but who
cannot consistently correct comma splices, run-ons, or fragments because
they don’t have a firm grasp of what constitutes a subject and verb.
possible procedures One way to teach basic awareness of subjects and

verbs is first to put on a transparency several sentences, each with a verb
phrase that differs in complexity from the others (see the next lesson for
more examples). Following are simple examples, with (to save space) just
a proper noun as subject and a verb that has no object. The lesson can be
either expanded or simplified, as needed.
1. Explain that grammatically correct sentences always have at least a

subject and a verb:
SUBJECT / VERB SUBJECT / VERB

Brian I waited. Barbara I laughed.
Brian I is waiting. Barbara I was laughing.
Brian I has been waiting. Barbara I had laughed.
Appendix 193
Brian I might be waiting. Barbara I must have laughed.
Brian I must have been waiting. Barbara I may have been laughing.
Brian I is going to be waiting. Barbara I ought to be laughing.
2. Explain that when the verb consists of more than one word, it may be
called a verb phrase.
3. Explain that an easy way to determine the verb part of the sentence is
to ask, “Which words tell what is going on?” The answer will be the verb
part of the sentence (also known as the simple predicate): laughing, was
laughing, must have been laughing. The rest is the subject (unless there are
adverbial elements that modify the entire subject'verb unit). This test for
predicates and subjects could be a separate miniTesson. The test is derived
from DeBeauregard (1984), but he explains it a little differently. He suggests
formulating a question like “Who laughed?” The answer is the subject of
the original sentence, while the predicate is all the words used in the
question, other than the initial who or what.
4- Explain that a subject'plus'complete'verb unit is a clause. Grammatically

speaking, a sentence has at least one clause that can stand alone, that does
not depend on another clause.
2. Understanding Subjects and Verbs (Emphasis on

Auxiliary and Main Verbs)
To use procedures similar to what I’ve tried in this inductiveGeductive
lesson, teachers need to know the basic kinds of auxiliary verbs:
MODAL FORMS OF FORMS OF

AUXILIARIES HAVE BE
[present, past]
can, could has, have am, is, are [present]
shall, should had was, were [past]
will, would having being [present participle]
may, might had been [past participle]
must
The following words may show subject'verb agreement but

otherwise function more like modals:
ought to
want/wants/wanted to
has/have to
am/is/are/was/were going to
Possible Procedures
Procedures can be varied, but the following illustrates one possibility.
1. Prepare different colored strips of card stock or colored paper for nouns,
auxiliary verbs, and main verbs.
For simplicity, choose main verbs that do not need to have anything after
them (intransitive verbs). To make it clearer that a past participle has a
different function from the past tense, choose verbs that have a distinctive
past participle form—ideally, verbs ending in -en, or -n. Some possible
verbs and their irregular past participles are fall (fallen); rise (risen);
speak (spoken); begin (begun); fly (flown); go (gone); grow (grown); sing
(sung).
Put all the basic forms of a main verb on one side of one verb card. For
example:
falls, fall
fell
falling
fallen
Put various kinds of auxiliary phrases on strips of one color. Here are
some examples (where putting words on different lines is meant to indicate
that only one of the words can be used at one time):
can has is
will have are
shall had was
were
may 1 has
t be have L been
could had y
should' might'
> have > have been
must would
ought to have has/have to have been
Many other combinations are possible but, as we shall see, they occur in a
consistent and predictable order.
Appendix 195
Select nouns that can reasonably go with some of the main verbs you
have chosen, including nouns that may create “poetic” sentences when
coupled with some of the verbs. For simplicity, you might want to avoid
any modifying words and instead choose nouns like Carla, Elvis Presley,
courage, science, summer, poems, stars, tigers, astronauts.
2. Prepare for each group of students a packet of cards containing nouns,

auxiliaries, and main verbs. (A plastic sandwich bag with selhgripping
zipper works well.)
3. Include in each packet directions such as these:
As a group, first assemble at least half a dozen sentences in the following

order:
One green card, for subject + one pink card, for helper verb(s) 4 one
-
purple card, for main verb.

(Yes, put your cards in this order; and yes, be sure to create sentences
that reflect the normal grammar of English, even if some are a bit poetical.)
Sometimes you will have to choose one form of a word or another, or even
to select from among totally different words. At least one person, acting
as scribe, should write down the sentences you have created.
4. When each group has constructed and written several sentences, write
some of their sentences on a transparency, being sure to write all the modal
verbs in a column, all the HAVE verbs in the next column, the BE verbs
in the next column, and the main verbs last. With luck, your set of
sentences might look something like the one in Figure A.2. (It’s okay to
insist that sentences to be added to this list must follow the pattern of
green, then pink, then purple card.)
5. Such a list allows for the students or the teacher to draw various kinds
of generalizations, depending upon the purposes of the activity, the time
available, and the grammatical sophistication and needs of those involved.
These generalizations include the following:
• A main verb can stand alone, or it can have one or even two or
three helper verbs.
• If a verb form carries a distinctive marker for tense, that tense
marker always occurs on the first verb form, whether it is an
auxiliary or the main verb.
• Modals always occur before any other kind of helper verb. HAVE
forms occur next, while BE forms are the last to occur before a
main verb.
FIGURE A.2 Subjects and verbs, with emphasis on auxiliary and main verbs.
nu*f Havs BE
veh£
sihjs.
£/W* VJtn-k.
S+*v$ Art Sp**ki* *f
o- b*«h
*«v4?
Ihi* Ow j k* <fo In*.*c
Sc7«m« u>)ll b«
Sh«ff
Tfjtirj h*it •f*//**.
Sommoy wu
• A HAVE auxiliary is always followed by a past participle form

(whether it is the auxiliary been, or the main verb).
• A BE auxiliary is always followed by a main verb in the present
participle form, as long as the sentence is active rather than
passive.
For a lesson putting more emphasis on discovery of such patterns, the

teacher can put the three major kinds of auxiliary verbs on different color
cards, such as blue, red, and yellow. This will make it easier for students
themselves to notice the invariable order of different kinds of auxiliaries.
reminders and notes This activity is not yet meant to teach subject-
verb agreement, but only to make students more aware of it through the
examples shared.
If students ignore the restriction of combining one green card with one
pink card and then one purple card, in that order, seeming anomalies will
Appendix 197
occur. For instance, one thing to anticipate is that someone will probably
use a form of HAVE or a form of BE as a main verb. This does not break
the pattern. Rather, it is simply true that certain forms of HAVE (have, has,
had) can each function either as an auxiliary verb or as a main verb.
Similarly, certain forms of BE (am, is, are, was, were) can function both
ways. To emphasize the point, it may be helpful to have the students add
these forms on whatever color strips the teacher has used for main verbs.
When restrictions are ignored, another seeming anomaly that occurs is
the passive sentence, such as Stars have been sung, a sentence with the singer
not specified. The passive has a BE form that is followed by the past
participle, in this case sung. However, the corresponding active form follows
the patterns above: [Someone] has sung stars.
3. Understanding Basic Subject-Verb Agreement
goals/rationale To help writers understand basic subject-verb agree--

ment, so they can edit their writing for the conventions of subject-verb
agreement.
Basic subject-verb agreement can be taught in a brief mini-lesson, at
least to writers who already have some understanding of subjects and verbs
and for whom dialect-switching is not an issue. Ideally such a mini-lesson
would be offered when some students’ writing is being prepared for publi¬
cation beyond the classroom, and when the writers might benefit from using
the forms associated with Edited American English, or what is sometimes
called the Language of Wider Communication.
Possible Procedures
1. Put on a transparency some basic examples of subject-verb agreement.

For example:
He wants to leave. The players want to leave.

Cinda blames you. The teachers think you did it.
2. Point out the basic teeter-totter relationship:
When the subject names just one person or thing, the verb carries
-s: wants, blames.
When the subject names more than one, the subject carries -s:
guests, teachers.
3. Show how this relationship is marked in other, less obvious examples:
SINGULAR PLURAL
Harley has ripped the box apart. The girls have ripped the box apart.
That guitarist is awesome. Those musicians are awesome.
Nobody blames you. People think you did it.
4. Suggest to students that as they edit their writing, they check for
subject'verb agreement. Posting on the wall some examples of
conventional agreement from their own writing may help.
4. Understanding Subject-Verb Agreement When a Prepositional

Phrase Modifies the Subject
goal To help writers learn to edit their writing for subject'verb agree'
ment when the subject is modified by a prepositional phrase. Students need
to have a basic understanding of the concept of subject'verb agreement.
Possible Procedures
1. First, explain the concept of a prepositional phrase. Many teachers do

this by relating a number of prepositions to a single noun, such as box: on
the box, in the box, under the box, over the box, around the box, toward the
box, and so forth. (See Figure A.3 for some common prepositions.) After
FIGURE A.3 Common prepositions.
about beside from outside toward

above besides in over under
across between inside past underneath
after beyond into plus unlike
against but like regarding until
along by near respecting unto
among concerning next round up
around considering of since upon
as despite off than with
at down on through without
before during onto throughout
behind except opposite till
below for out to
Appendix 199
the teacher gives two or three examples, students should contribute others,
which can be added to a list on transparency.
2. Give packets with sentence elements to students working in groups.

Again, nouns for the subject can be put on green cards, and entire verb
phrases and predicates can be put on a different color of cards. Be sure that
the “nouns” include some grammatically singular pronouns like she, some¬
thing, and nobody, and some grammatically plural pronouns like we, both,
and all. (Special problems crop up with everyone and everybody, so perhaps
they are best omitted at this point.) Some groups could be given only
singular nouns and pronouns, while other groups could be given only
plurals.
3. After the students have formed and written down sentences using their
cards, give them cards of a different color, each containing a prepositional
phrase that could reasonably modify two or more of the nouns they have
used as subjects. To groups that have singular nouns and pronouns, give
prepositions that end in plural nouns, and vice versa. For example:
The group [of boys] We [on the team]

Nobody [among my friends] The sandwiches [on the menu]
Ask the students to expand their sentences by adding one of the preposb
tional phrases after each noun phrase they have used.
4. Write some of the students’ sentences on a transparency. Explain that

the prepositional phrase (which is on a different color card) does not change
what the subject is. Therefore, the verb form remains the same.
5. Connecting Independent Clauses
goals/rationale To punctuate conventionally, writers need to know

common ways of joining independent clauses. In the most basic lessons, the
concept of an independent clause can be equated with a complete sentence.
Possible Procedures
1. Put on a transparency some simple sentences that can logically be joined

by and, but, or or (the most common of the coordinating conjunctions),
FIGURE A.4 Coordinating conjunctions and correlative conjunctions.
COORDINATING CONJUNCTIONS CORRELATIVE CONJUNCTIONS

and both . . . and
but either ... or
or neither . . . nor
not only . . . but also
nor whether ... or
so
yet (These pairs link grammatically
equal elements.)
and show that the sentences can be connected with a comma plus one of
these conjunctions. (See Figure A.4 for some coordinating conjunctions
and correlative conjunctions.) For example, here are some sentences after
they have already been connected:
Cindy brought a pizza over, and we had lots of fun eating and
listening to CDs.
Cindy brought a pizza over, but we didn’t like her vegetarian pizza.
Cindy will bring a pizza, or Carmen will bring a giant submarine
sandwich.
2. Depending on the sophistication and needs of the writers, you can simi¬
larly demonstrate the use of a semicolon to connect two sentences, as in
There wasn’t much else we could do; we were trapped in that cave.
In explaining this use of the semicolon, I make the point that the semicolon
essentially consists of a comma plus a period. The comma part signals the
close relationship between the ideas, while the period part signals that each
part before and after it is grammatically complete, an independent clause,
a grammatical sentence.
6. Understanding Independent and Dependent Clauses

and the Concept of Fragment
goals/rationale For writers to consciously eliminate run-ons, comma

splices, and fragments from their writing (or to use these constructions
deliberately, for effect), they need to understand independent and depend-
A ppendix 201
FIGURE A.5 Common subordinating conjunctions.
CONTRAST TIME, SEQUENCE CAUSE CONDITION

although after as if
even though as because unless
though before in order that whether
since since
whereas till so that
while until
when
rather than while
ent clauses, and how these figure into grammatical sentences and are
punctuated. An extended mini-lesson such as this can be used to introduce
the basic concepts, but follow-up lessons may help, too: lessons drawing
examples from the students’ own writing.
Because dependent clauses that function like adverbs are much easier
to understand than adjective and noun clauses, it can be useful to begin
with adverbial clauses. Adjective clauses come with their own set of punc¬
tuation rules and therefore require separate lessons.
Possible Procedures
L Give examples of how a grammatical sentence (an independent clause)

can be made into less than a sentence, by putting a subordinating word in
front of it. (See Figure A.5 for some subordinating conjunctions.) For
example:
I turned out the light. [complete sentence, an independent clause]
when 1 turned out the light [all subordinate clauses, not grammatically
until I turned out the light complete]
because I turned out the light
unless I turned out the light
before I turned out the light
2. To extend this basic lesson, invite students to collaborate in adding a

main clause to each of these sentences. In the process, demonstrate con-
ventional punctuation: the fact that a comma is used after an introductory
subordinate clause like this, but is optional before such a clause:
When I turned out the light, at first I couldn’t see anything.

The house didn’t really become pitch black until I turned out the light.
3. To further extend the lesson, point out that when a dependent clause is
not attached to a main clause within the same punctuated sentence, it is
considered a fragment. During editing, such fragments are usually attached
to the sentence to which they most closely relate, which is typically the
preceding sentence.
7. Eliminating Run-on Sentences and Comma Splices
goals/rationale To enable writers to eliminate run-on sentences and

comma splices from their writing, except when they seem particularly
effective (see Figure 4.9 for examples from published writers).
possible procedures Prepare a transparency with some examples of in-

effective run-ons or comma splices. It is particularly helpful to take these
examples from your students’ own writing. Show two or three ways of
correcting each sentence, and discuss as a group which way seems most
effective.
suggestions and notes In working with college students, I have discov¬

ered that the reason they don’t identify and eliminate run-on and especially
comma splice sentences is often that they don’t recognize the second
“sentence” as being grammatically complete, with a subject and a verb. In
their research, Harris and Rowan (1989) found the same thing. Students
were less likely to recognize the second independent clause as having a
subject and verb when (1) the subject was a pronoun, like he, she, it, we,
you, they, this, these; or (2) the verb was a form of BE, namely, am, is, are,
was, were. Students were especially likely to think that the second clause
did not have a verb when it was a contracted form of BE. Here are some
examples from my own students’ papers. In each case, the student did not
recognize the second part of the sentence as having a subject and a verb:
All people in this world are born into a certain sex, they are either
male or female.
Appendix 203
Reports are like people, they all have different results and
conclusions.
There are more safer ways we can solve the energy crisis, one is
solar energy.
Every race has different cultures and traditions, that’s what makes
each culture unique.
One of these experimental drugs was cinanserin, this drug was
administered to humans after minimal animal studies.
There are many reasons transsexuals turn to prostitution, here are
a few.
Of course, a teacher encountering some of these sentences in a student’s

paper may want to suggest some change other than merely fixing the comma
splice. The point here, however, is that the writers understood the concept
of the comma splice but did not recognize their sentences as instances of
the comma splice.
8. Making Limited but Effective Use of the Comma Splice
goals/rationale Once students understand the concept of the comma

splice, they are better prepared to distinguish between effective uses of it
and ineffective uses that would conventionally be changed during editing.
Possible Procedures
1. Put on a transparency the examples of published comma splice sentences

from Brosnahan (1976) and from Figure 4.9. (Another interesting example
is the first sentence of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the
best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the
age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness. . . .’’) Invite the
students to decide whether these comma splice sentences are effective and,
if so, why. See if they can describe some of the conditions that Brosnahan
suggests are typical of the published, effective comma splice.
2. Explain how Brosnahan characterized the examples in the chart.
3. Invite students to compare these uses of the comma splice with some
from their own papers (which, perhaps, you have already put on a trans-
parency). Do their comma splice sentences meet the conditions described
by Brosnahan? Are they as effective? Why, or why not?
9. Understanding Phrases Contrasted with Clauses;

More on the Fragment
goals To enable writers to distinguish between clauses, which may or

may not be independent, and phrases, which are usually grammatically
dependent.
Possible Procedures
1. Put on a transparency some complete sentences (independent clauses),

and point out phrases within these clauses (or put some phrases on a
transparency). For example:
Shane lives on the lake. [On the lake is a phrase within the
independent clause; it does not have a subject'plus'verb nucleus.]
There we stood on the dock, abandoned by our cruise ship. [The
phrase abandoned by our cruise ship contains the verb form abandoned,
but does not itself have a subject. The entire phrase is working as a
modifier of we.]
It was late, much too late to catch the ferry. [Again, the italicized
phrase has a verb form, to catch, but it’s not functioning as part of a
subject-verb unit.]
She stared incredulously, her eyes accusing him of betrayal. [The
italicized phrase, an absolute phrase, would need were to be a
complete clause.]
2. Explain that when a phrase is punctuated as a complete sentence, it is

commonly called a fragment.
10. Eliminating Fragments; Using Fragments Sparingly but Effectively
goals To enable writers to punctuate ineffective fragments convention'
ally, while making judicious use of fragments for particular effects.
Appendix 205
Possible Procedures
1. Using some examples from lesson 6 in this sequence, remind students

that a dependent clause is technically a fragment when it occurs alone as
a punctuated sentence.
2. Remind students that the same is true of phrases punctuated as complete

sentences.
3. Have available on a transparency some examples of fragments, ideally

from the students’ own writing—fragments that you, at least, consider
ineffective. Discuss and demonstrate how to connect these to whatever they
modify or go with. The following examples illustrate some common kinds
of fragments:
There wasn’t anything we could do. Until the coach arrived.

[dependent clause]
The good sportsmanship award went to Carter. The funny kid vuho sat
next to me in science. [This appositive phrase has a dependent clause
modifying it, not an independent clause.]
Hot, molten lava rolled down Mount St. Helens. Causing havoc
everywhere, [present participial phrase]
Don knew what he had to do. Turn the sailboat around, fast, [verbal
phrase]
The dog looked at me. Its eyes pleading, [absolute construction]
Joe borrowed my car for Saturday night. The deal being that I can use
his CD player for the party Sunday, [absolute; the verb form being
cannot stand alone as a main verb]
I won’t be in class on Friday. The reason being that the debate team is
going to a tournament, [absolute, with incomplete verb being]
I can’t go out tonight. Being that I have to study for a math test.
[dependent clause, introduced by the colloquial being that]
4- Share with students the chart in Figure 4.10, which shows dependent
fragments. Are these effective? Why, or why not? Under what conditions
do dependent fragments seem to be effective?
5. Return to the fragments used for step 3. Do some of these meet the
conditions for being effective as fragments, as minor sentences? Discuss.
6. Share with students some examples of independent fragments, and discuss
their effectiveness. Invite students to draw upon the literature they are
reading in order to contribute examples to a wall chart of published,
effective fragments.
11. Fragments, Fused Sentences, and Comma Splices:

A Differently Sequenced Set of Lessons
assumptions This possible sequence of minulessons assumes that (1) the

students have some sense of a subj ecu verb unit, but an imperfect ability to
identify subjects and verbs; (2) students are writing expository and argm
mentative prose that naturally demands the kinds of connecting words
indicated here; (3) students are making errors of the kinds indicated; (4)
teachers will draw upon examples from the students’ own writings in
contrasting fragments and comma splices with grammatically complete
sentences; and (5) steps would be skipped or reordered, depending upon
the needs seen (or not seen) in the students’ writing.
1. Begin with fragments that are phrases, choosing examples of common

kinds.
He closed the door. And waited breathlessly, [second part of

compound predicate]
We’ll catch up soon. In about ten minutes, [prepositional phrase]
I bought a new computer program. Also a book, [phrase introduced
by word like also, just, only]
She slammed the door hard. Then left, [phrase introduced by word
like then, first, next]
I have a lot of work to do. For instance, wash the car. [phrase
introduced by expression like for example, such as]
Uncle Chuck is great. Somebody 1 can really admire, [phrase that
performs an appositive function]
I saw him, all right. Running down the street, [participial phrase]
Carla was exhausted. Absolutely wiped out. [participial phrase]
Demonstrate that these phrases are not grammatically complete; that

is, they are not clauses, much less independent clauses.
Appendix Z07
Show how these phrases can become part of the independent clauses
that precede them.
Collect examples of phrases from various published sources (ads,
junk mail, appeals for money, published articles, novels); together,
try to decide in what syntactic and rhetorical contexts and genres a
fragment may be effective.
2. For another lesson, choose absolute phrases, which are neanclauses.
I washed the car. The deal being that I get to use it today. [Explain
that being is not a main verb in such sentences.]
We hurried to the basement. The tornado less than half a mile away.
[Note the absence of a main verb; show how the absolute can be
connected to the clause by a comma plus with.]
She stood smiling in the doorway. Her arms laden with packages.
[Note that the verb phrase is incomplete; show that the sentence
can be repaired by adding were, or by attaching the absolute with a
comma.]
3. For another lesson, choose dependent clauses punctuated as complete

sentences.
I fell asleep studying. Because I was so tired, [adverbial clause]

I can’t buy a car. Until I earn enough money, [adverbial clause]
Show how independent clauses can, in effect, be made dependent by

putting a subordinating conjunction in front of them.
Brainstorm for subordinating words. Expand the list (see Figure A.5)
and post in the classroom. Compare these with coordinating words
(such as and, but) as necessary.
Include noun and adjective clauses later, if need be. (They occur as
fragments less frequently.)
4- Consider fused sentences, if necessary, and common kinds of comma

splices.
We made snowballs Greg started a snowball fight, [no connecting word

or punctuation]
Show the two independent clauses. Fused sentences are often a
result of haste rather than lack of understanding.
There is no way to prove this, it must be taken on faith, [pronoun as
subject in the second independent clause]
Kim is dating Karl, he’s a nice guy. [contraction as verb in the
second independent clause]
We didn’t know what to do, we were really lost, [form of be as a
main verb in second independent clause]
Perhaps the most common reason why students write two independent
clauses with only a comma to connect them is that they don’t recognize
the second sentence as an independent clause when its subject is a pronoun
or its verb is a contraction or form of BE. Explain, showing ways of repunc-
tuating or recasting the clauses.
There are restrictions, for instance you cannot return it if you were
responsible for damaging it. [phrase like for example or such as
introducing the second independent clause]
I can’t see much sense in buying lottery tickets, however one might
get really lucky, [conjunctive adverb like however or nevertheless
introducing the second independent clause]
Students often think that they should use a comma before an exemplifying
phrase or a conjunctive adverb when it introduces an independent clause.
Contrast the punctuation used before coordinating conjunctions (like and
and but) with the punctuation used before these other kinds of connectors
(a period, a semicolon, or even a colon or dashes before exemplifying
phrases). Discuss the appropriateness of alternative choices. Make lists of
the different kinds of connectors and post these in the classroom, with
correctly punctuated sentences as examples.
12. Connecting Clauses with Conjunctive Adverbs and

Punctuating Them Conventionally
goal To demonstrate how to punctuate sentences conventionally when

using conjunctive adverbs to connect two independent clauses.
Possible Procedures
1. Prepare and share a transparency with some examples of conjunctive

adverbs used to connect two sentences (see Figure A.6 for some common
conjunctive adverbs). If possible, use some conventionally punctuated sen-
Appendix 209
FIGURE A.6 Common conjunctive adverbs.
also accordingly as a result

besides consequently for example
hence furthermore for instance
indeed however in fact
instead meanwhile of course
then moreover on the other hand
thus nevertheless
therefore
tences from students’ writing. Give examples where the conjunctive adverb
begins a second, separately punctuated sentence and examples where the
two independent clauses are joined by a semicolon. Emphasize the use of
the semicolon as contrasted with the use of a comma.
We didn’t get packed in time to catch the 8 o’clock bus. Therefore,

we’ll have to drive.
Psychologically, I wasn’t ready; however, I had to play my solo next.
[Note the comma after the conjunctive adverb, however.]
Susan is waiting in the wings; Josh, meanwhile, is superb in his
dramatic monologue. [Note the comma before and after meanwhile.]
2. Take from students’ writing some unconventionally punctuated sentences

that include conjunctive adverbs (typically, these are comma splice sen-
tences). Put these on a transparency, then discuss and demonstrate the
conventional punctuation needed. Some examples from college freshmen:
There are restrictions on the press, for instance, in a rape case the
name of the victim raped is not allowed to be released.
If white and black children can play together when young, how
come they can’t grow up together and share the same benefits, then
each would have an equal chance to gain status.
And from preservice teachers:
A student’s uniqueness is supported and encouraged, thus the

students do not feel the need to imitate each other.
It’s difficult to explain a method of teaching in its entirety, therefore
I will explain whole language by simply comparing it to the
traditional way that previous generations were taught.
He doesn’t come right out and say “I am sandpaper,” rather he leads
us to try and guess who he is.
13. Comparing the Uses of, and the Punctuation Associated with,
Coordinating Conjunctions, Subordinating Conjunctions,
and Conjunctive Adverbs
goal To clarify how different connecting words are used, with emphasis
on the punctuation associated with them.
Possible Procedures
1. One of many ways to do such an activity would be to use manipulables.

For instance, prepare strips of construction paper or pieces of card stock
with independent clauses on them (but omit capitals and end punctuation).
Try to include clauses that could be related to one another in more than
one way (that is, with more than one kind of connective or subordinator).
Take, for instance, the sentences We drove all night through the mountains
and We needed a rest, which could logically be combined in such ways as
these:
We needed a rest, but we drove all night through the mountains.

After we drove all night through the mountains, we needed a rest.
We drove all night through the mountains; therefore, we needed a
rest.
2. Put various connecting words on construction paper too, using a different

color for each of the three major kinds of connectors: coordinating com
junctions, subordinating conjunctions, and conjunctive adverbs.
3. Divide the students into groups, and give each group a set of six or eight
interrelatable independent clauses and several connectors from each cate^
gory. Invite the students to connect pairs of sentences, using any connector
they think appropriate. Ask them to write two or three of these sentences
on a transparency, using the conventional punctuation, and then explain
their examples to the rest of the class.
Figure A. 7 is based on a chart of punctuation DOS and DON’TS that

I once developed for students in our developmental writing classes at the
university. However, I now realize that such a chart is much more valuable
to writers if they help develop it, gradually.
Appendix 211
3
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Teaching Style Through Sentence Combining and
Sentence Generating
1. Introducing Participial Phrases
goals To help writers see the effectiveness of using present participle

phrases, when used as free modifiers. In addition, to help writers see that
they can sometimes move such phrases for greater effectiveness, as they
revise. Such lessons are most appropriate for writers who provide few
narrative and descriptive details in their writing, or writers who provide
such details in separate sentences, instead of appropriately subordinating
some details in modifying phrases.
background One of the constructions that most distinguishes profes-

sional writers from student writers is the participial phrase used as a free
modifier—that is, as a modifier that is not absolutely essential to the
sentence and therefore is set off by punctuation—usually by commas in
prose, but sometimes just by line divisions in poetry (Christensen and
Christensen, 1978). The present participle phrase commonly conveys ac¬
tion, whether it is used in poetry, fiction, or nonfiction. Such free modifiers
most commonly occur at the end of the clause, even if they modify the
subject of that clause. The second most common position is before the
subject-predicate unit. Least common is a participial free modifier occurring
between the subject and the predicate.
Possible Procedures
1. Put some examples on transparencies and discuss them with the students.
For example:
I watched the flashing past of cotton fields and cabins, feeling that I
was moving into the unknown.
Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952)
“I wish we could get wet,” said Lily, watching a boy ride his bicycle
through rain puddles.
Amy Tan, The Moon Lady (1992)
214 TEACHING STYLE THROUGH SENTENCE COMBINING AND SENTENCE GENERATING

Father,
All these he has made me own,
The trees and the forests
Standing in their places.
Teton Sioux, The Trees Stand Shining (H. Jones, 1993)
Still laughing, Mama bustled about the kitchen until her masterpiece
was complete.
Phil Mendez, The Black Snowman (1989)
Far below, a sea of purple and orange clouds churned, dashing like
waves in slow motion against the mountains green forests and
reddish-brown volcanic rock.
Tom Minehart, “On Top of Mount Fuji, People Hope
for Change” (July 17, 1993)
The river that used to surge into the Gulf of California, depositing
ruddy-colored silt that fanned out into a broad delta of new land at its
mouth, hardly ever makes it to the sea anymore.
Paul Gray, “A Fight over Liquid Gold” (1991)
2. Discuss the placement of the participial phrases. In most cases, the

participial phrase is probably most effective as is. However, what about
putting the participial phrase before the subject in the second example?
Watching a boy ride his bicycle through rain puddles, Lily said, “I
wish we could get wet.”
Is this order perhaps as good as the original, even though the focus has
changed? By thus discussing the effects and effectiveness of placing modi'
fiers differently, students develop a sense of style and an ability to suit the
grammar to the sense of what they are writing.
3. You might also discuss examples like the following sentences from
Richard Wright’s poem “Between the World and Me” (1935), wherein two
past tense verbs are followed by a present participle phrase:
The dry bones stirred, rattled, lifted, melting themselves into my bones.
And then they had me, stripped me, battering my teeth into my throat
till I swallowed my own blood.
Appendix 215
FIGURE A.8a Examples of “I am” poems in which the writers were encouraged to use
participial phrases. The top three poems were written by sixth graders and the bottom
two by seventh graders.
I am an elegant, proud daisy I am a long, rectangular bumper sticker

Dodging life-taking lawnmowers sticking on a small red car
Spreading out my leaves and petals smelling the horrible stench of the
Taking in carbon dioxide exhaust pipe
Giving out a gift of oxygen. telling everyone that my owner loves
New York.
Rachel Nieboer
Aaron Knox
Pinto
I am a widely blotched black and

white pinto
Gliding smothly into my rocky canter
Tipping over my green grain bucket
Mouthing my metal snaffle bit.
Jennifer Richardson
I am a young speedy pup. I am a strong lasting tool.

Brigning aggravation to my family Nailing friends together
Eating all in sight Pounding kindness into the world
Destroying whatever I can Sawing through problems
Chewing away at life. Sanding rough edges in life
Chris Colyn Helen Karsten
Why might the poet have switched from past tense verbs to present
participle phrases at the ends of these sentences? How is the effect different?
additional mind lessons Students may benefit from follow-up lessons

in which they listen to or read more literary excerpts making effective use
of present participle phrases. The teacher can encourage the students
to find and share examples themselves. Another kind of mini-lesson can
involve taking a bare-bones sentence from a student’s paper and brainstorm¬
ing together about details that might be added in free modifying -ING
phrases. Similarly, one can demonstrate how to combine already writ¬
ten sentences during revision. See also the following lessons in this
category.

FIGURE A.8b Examples of “I am” poems. The top two were written by college
freshmen encouraged to use participial phrases as free modifiers. The bottom two were
written by teachers, under less stringent conditions.
Leaves in the Fall
I am a red leaf I am a soccer ball

Floating through the brisk air rolling down the field
Changing from green to fiery red bouncing off the player’s head
Crumbling after being walked on curving around the goalie
Disappearing after crumbling flying through the air
Growing new leaves next year. scoring a point to win the game.
Tracey Chambers Joel Parsons
I am ten o’clock I am “Four Strong Winds” and the

steadily ticking toward noon. “Moonlight Sonata,”
A calculator, tracking my progress, melancholy yet serene.
planning my future. I am a Bilbo’s pizza with whole wheat
I am concrete, a foundation for the crust,
architecture of my life. tomato bubbly and cheese gooey
Yet I am also a string instrument, I am 5 a.m., a nun
vibrating with living melodies greeting the morning solitude,
A prism absorbing the spectrum of life grateful for the absolution of a new
and tossing out multicolored glints day.
Flungry, determined, I am my own I am a midnight lover,
canvas cherishing and tender,
never complete tracing a smile in the dark
with my fingertips.
Pat Reeves
I am a whitewater raft,
sturdy yet flexible,
bouncing over hidden rocks
to rest beyond the whirlpool.
Connie Weaver
2. Using Present Participle Phrases as Free Modifiers
possible procedure Suggest to writers the option of writing “I am” poems

(see Figure A.8) in which they equate themselves metaphorically with
things that reflect their interests, suit their personalities, suggest their goals.
Emphasize the possibility of using present participle free modifiers by sharing
examples in which the writer has used them effectively.
Appendix 217
FIGURE A.9 Sentences for creating participial phrases and absolutes.
1. A HERD OF WILD HORSES RACES ALONG A BEACH.

Their hoofbeats carve patterns in the sand.
Their hoofbeats churn the surf.
[A herd of wild horses races along a beach, their hoofbeats carving
patterns in the sand and churning the surf.]
2. Manes are flying
Legs are flailing
THE HORSES SURGE FORWARD INTO A DEEPENING MIST.
[Manes flying, legs flailing, the horses surge forward into a deepening mist.]
3. THE THUNDERING HERD ALMOST DISAPPEARS.
The herd is veiled by a blue haze.
[The thundering herd almost disappears, veiled by a blue haze.]
4. Two stallions emerge suddenly.
TWO STALLIONS BEGIN TO FIGHT.
[Suddenly emerging, two stallions begin to fight.]
5. THEY REAR ON THEIR POWERFUL HIND LEGS.
They circle each other in a deadly dance.
[They rear on their powerful hind legs, circling each other in a deadly
dance.]
6. The stallions have fought to a stalemate.
THE STALLIONS RACE TO THE FRONT OF THE HERD.
[Having fought to a stalemate, the stallions race to the front of the herd.]
7. THE HERD STAMPEDES.
The herd is panicked by an inferno.
[The herd stampedes, panicked by an inferno.]
8. The herd is singed by the flames.
The herd is choked by the smoke.
THE HERD PLUNGES DESPERATELY INTO THE SEA.
[Singed by the flames and choked by the smoke, the herd plunges
desperately into the sea.]
3. Creating Participial Phrases and Absolutes

Through Sentence Combining
goal To encourage writers to use participial phrases (both present and

past) and absolute constructions in their writing. Also, to consider the
stylistically effective placement of these free modifiers.
Possible Procedures
1. Put the sets of sentences shown in Figure A.9 on transparencies, leaving

plenty of room to write the changes that the students suggest. It may be

FIGURE A.9, continued.
9. Their fears are forgotten.

THE HORSES FROLIC IN THE WAVES.
They dive into the depths.
They surface again.
[Their fears forgotten, the horses frolic in the waves, diving into the
depths, then surfacing again.]
10. The horses are restored.
THE HORSES MOVE BACK TOWARD THE SHORE.
[Restored, the horses move back toward the shore.]
11. THE SHORE IS NOW SOFTENED BY TWILIGHT.
The shore is tinted with muted pinks and lavenders.
[The shore is now softened by twilight, tinted with muted pinks and
lavenders.]
12. THE HORSES GALLOP IN SLOW MOTION.
Their manes are suspended in twilight.
Their hooves trace deliberate patterns in the sand.
[The horses gallop in slow motion, their manes suspended in twilight,
their hooves tracing deliberate patterns in the sand.]
13. The herd runs dreamily.
THE HERD FADES INTO THE DISTANCE.
The herd leaves sea and shore undisturbed.
[Running dreamily, the herd fades into the distance, leaving sea and shore
undisturbed.]
helpful to provide a copy of the activity for each student, so that students
can more easily focus on the task and keep a record of the sentences they
have created. Adapted from Allyn & Bacons The Writing Process, Book 9
(1982), the sentences describe a short nonverbal motion picture titled
Dream of the Wild Horses.
2. Explain that, for now, you want the sentences in each set combined into
a single sentence, with the sentence in capitals remaining untouched and
the others reduced to parts of sentences (free modifiers), but kept in the same
order. Do the first two or three with the students. If the students reorder the
parts of the resultant sentence or choose a different original sentence
to leave unchanged (which is common), you can accept these variations
but, whenever possible, discuss which version works better in the flow of
the narrative. Don’t worry, for now, about examining the structure of the
newly created parts of sentences; that can be done after the narrative is
created.
Appendix 219
3. After creating a satisfying narrative, you can call students’ attention to
the three kinds of free modifiers they have created:
Running dreamily, the herd fades into the distance, leaving sea and
shore undisturbed, [present participle phrase. The 4ng in these free
modifiers shows that the phrases are present participles. They are
verb phrases functioning as modifiers.]
The herd stampedes, panicked by an inferno, [past participle phrase]
Singed by the flames and choked by the smoke, the herd plunges
desperately into the sea. [past participle phrase. The -ed forms in
these free modifiers show that the phrases are past participles. They,
too, are verb phrases functioning as modifiers.]
Their fears forgotten, the horses frolic in the waves, [absolute phrase.
The absolute has a subject and retains the essence of the verb
phrase. Often, the absolute can be restored to a complete sentence
by adding am, is, are, was, or were, as in Their fears were forgotten.]
The horses gallop in slow motion, their manes suspended in twilight,
their hooves tracing deliberate patterns in the sand. [The first absolute
consists, in effect, of a subject plus a past participle phrase. The
second absolute has a subject followed by a present participle phrase.
The addition of were would restore each absolute to a complete
sentence.]
As these examples illustrate, the participial phrase is essentially a verb

phrase functioning like an adjective, to modify a noun. The present parti'
ciple phrase typically connotes present action, while the past participle
phrase connotes completed action or description. The absolute construction
is effective for conveying descriptive detail, without giving it the full weight
of a grammatically complete sentence.
Teacher Resources
Christensen, F., & Christensen, B. (1978). Notes toward a new rhetoric: Nine essays
for teachers (2nd ed.). New York: Harper & Row. These essays by Francis Christen-
sen are valuable in helping us understand some of the characteristics of today’s prose
style.
Daiker, D. A., Kerek, A., & Morenberg, M. (1990). The writer’s options: Combining
to composing (4th ed.). New York: Harper & Row. Intended as a text at the college
level, this book is also especially valuable to teachers interested in implementing
sentence-combining activities that draw upon the research of Christensen and
others.

Boynton/Cook. Excellent book for students, especially at the high school level.
Figure 5.10 includes these and other references.
4. Appreciating and Using Absolute Constructions
goals To help writers appreciate the absolute construction as a means

of conveying descriptive detail, and to help them become sufficiently aware
of the absolute construction to use it in their writing.
note See Figure 5.6 and the Glossary for other examples of the absolute.
Technically the absolute is a phrase, because it’s not quite grammatically
complete as a sentence. Because the absolute has a “subject” and the essence
of a verb, it can also be described as a neanclause.
Possible Procedures
1. Locate some effective absolutes from literature. The references cited in

the lesson immediately above are good resources, as is Scott Rice’s Right
Words, Right Places (1993). The absolute construction is particularly corm
mon in narrative fiction and poetry—even in many picture books for
children. Here are some further examples:
I saw the giant bend and clutch the posts at the top of the stairs
with both hands, bracing himself, his body gleaming bare in his white
shorts.
Before me, in the panel where a mirror is usually placed, I could see
a scene from a bullfight, the bull charging close to the man and the man
swinging the red cape in sculptured folds so close to his body that man and
bull seemed to blend in one swirl of calm, pure motion.
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still

Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
W. B. Yeats, “Leda and the Swan” (1924)
Appendix 221
Notice how the three absolutes in the Yeats excerpt keep the reader
suspended before the main clause, as Zeus in the form of a swan approaches
and then claims the girl.
2. As a follow-up, encourage students to experiment with absolutes in their

own writing. As a preparatory activity, you might encourage “boast” poems
like this:
My car is a sleek gray cat,

its paws leaping forward the instant I accelerate,
its engine purring contentedly.
3. Often in students’ narrative writing, one finds simple sentences like My

car is a sleek gray cat, sentences that could benefit from including more
descriptive detail in absolute phrases. When writers are ready to revise at
the sentence level, the teacher can help them consider ways of expand¬
ing some sentences through absolutes that convey descriptive detail. Past
participle phrases can also add descriptive detail, while present participle
phrases are often effective in conveying narrative detail.
Teaching Sentence Sense and Style Through the

Manipulation of Syntactic Elements
Free modifiers can often be located in more than one place in a sentence;
indeed, that is one reason they are called free modifiers. Theoretically, from
the viewpoint of grammar alone, many free modifiers can occur at the end
of a sentence (that is, after the subject-plus-verb of an independent clause),
at the beginning of the sentence, or after the subject and before the verb.
For example:
The boat moved forward, plowing through the waves.

Plowing through the waves, the boat moved forward.
The boat, plowing through the waves, moved forward.
While all three positions are technically possible, probably only one or two
will seem rhetorically effective or appropriate, to most readers. In this case,
most of us would probably agree that the first alternative is especially
effective in placing the free modifier at the end.
In addition to discussing the placement of free modifiers like participial
222 TEACHING SENTENCE SENSE AND STYLE THROUGH MANIPULATION OF SYNTACTIC ELEMENTS
phrases and absolutes, we can often help writers make their sentences more
effective by moving some other kind of modifying phrase. With college
students, I have sometimes used examples from the first draft of my own
writing, as illustrated in the following lesson.
1. Moving a Medial Modifier
goal To help writers understand that a sentence can be unnecessarily

difficult to process if there is a long modifying phrase that comes after the
subject and before the verb, and to help them gain experience in moving
a modifier to the front of the sentence to get it out of the way.
possible procedures Put on a transparency some sentences like the fol¬

lowing, and demonstrate how to move the medial modifier to the front of
the sentence:
Michael Gordon, a psychologist experienced in working with schools to

help ADHD kids, suggests no more than 30-45 minutes of homework
for ADHD children in the elementary grades, and no more than an
hour or so for older children.
This sentence is probably clearer if the modifying phrase (an appositive) is

moved to the front of the sentence:
A psychologist experienced in working with schools to help ADHD kids,

Michael Gordon suggests . . .
2. Putting the “Given’ Information First and Ending with the “New”
goal To help writers learn to put the “new” or most important informa¬
tion at the end of a sentence, where it is psychologically more effective.
procedures Put on a transparency some examples from your own or your

students’ writing, and revise the sentence so as not to end it with the less
important information:
Children in whole language classrooms read for meaning better,

corrected more of their mistakes (miscues), and retold more fully the
stories they read than did children in the traditional classrooms.
Appendix 223
In examining this sentence I’d written, I concluded that it ended weakly.
Therefore, I revised it as follows:
In comparison with children in the traditional classrooms, children

in whole language classrooms read for meaning better, corrected
more of their mistakes (miscues), and retold more fully the stories
they read.
Now the sentence ends with the ways in which children in the whole
language classrooms excelled; in other words, it ends with the point I
wanted to emphasize.
3. Using a WH Word Transform or an it

Transform for Emphasis
goal To enable writers to see the advantages of using a WH word trans'

form or an it transform for emphasis, and to experiment with such construe'
tions.
Possible Procedures
1. Put on a transparency some examples like the following untransformed

sentence (to use the terminology of transformational grammar) and then
the transformed version:
You probably realized that I was bothered by your decision. However,

you may not have realized that I was particularly bothered by your choice
of directors. [untransformed]
You probably realized that I was bothered by your decision. What you
may not have realized, however, is that I was particularly bothered by
your choice of directors. [transformed]
The transformed version calls greater attention to what “you” may not have
realized. Other examples:
I didn’t really want steak, though. What I really wanted was Chinese food.
It was hard to imagine how she had finished the job so quickly.
What really amazed me, though, was the quality of the work.
Sentences like this are sometimes called cleft sentences because the basic
message is cleft, or divided, by an added word. With WH word transforms,
that added word is a form of the BE verb.
The following examples are similar, but involve an it transform rather
than a WH word transform:
Nationalism tries to check the growth of world civilization,

[untransformed]
It is nationalism that tries to check the growth of world civilization,
[transformed, with that added]
J. B. Priestley, “Wrong Ism”
Joe Dillon introduced the Wild West to us.
It was Joe Dillon who introduced the Wild West to us. [transformed,
with who added]
James Joyce, “An Encounter”
Almost always, these cleft sentences build upon something that came
before. For example, the sentence from Priestley was most likely preceded
by a sentence indicating that something was inhibiting the growth of world
civilization. Similarly, the sentence from Joyce was most likely preceded by
a sentence mentioning the Wild West. The same pattern holds for the
WEbword transforms, which are usually preceded by a contrasting state-
ment to which they implicitly refer. In each of the following examples from
published writing, you can see how the sentence must build upon something
that came before:
What followed was a series of countless individual and collective

decisions that together added up to making a difference in how
English language arts is—and will be—taught and learned in
Michigan.
Ellen Brinkley (Michigan State Board of Education, 1994)
In The Input Hypothesis (1985), Krashen discusses some of the
evidence for his theory of second language acquisition. What I
would like to do here is review some of the evidence. . . .
Constance Weaver, Reading Process and Practice (1994)
What the research tells me is that if children or less literate adults
start reading for pleasure, however, good things will happen.
Stephen Krashen, The Power of Reading (1993)
2. Invite students to create WH word transform sentences to follow state¬

ments like these:
I didn’t really want X. What I wanted was . . .

He knew where to go. What he didn’t know was . . .
Appendix 225
4. Using it and there Transforms to Avoid Awkward Sentences
goal To help writers understand that beginning a sentence with the
introductory it or there is sometimes effective, despite what the grammar
handbooks commonly say.
possible procedures Put on a transparency some sentences like the fob
lowing. Demonstrate and discuss how much more awkward (or downright
impossible) it would be to eliminate the introductory it or there.
It is almost a truism among students of architectural history that the

use of the arch and the vault began with the Romans.
“Arches and Vaults in the Ancient Near East” (1989)
To avoid the introductory it, we would have to reword the sentence

something like this:
Among students of architectural history, the idea that the use of the
arch and the vault began with the Romans is almost a truism.
This version has a long modifier after the subject and before the verb,
making the sentence more difficult to comprehend. The it transform is
clearer. Take another example:
It is almost impossible to project your psychotic image life into the

mind of another via telepathy and keep the hallucinations from
becoming sensually weaker.
This time, the untransformed sentence was the published version:
The task of projecting your psychotic image life into the mind of
another via telepathy and keeping the hallucinations from becoming
sensually weaker is almost impossible.
Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles (1950)
Note, though, the greater difficulty in processing the sentence when an

extremely long phrase separates the subject, task, from the verb and the
rest of the predicate, is impossible.
Here are some examples of the there transform functioning effectively:
There are other streets in Paris as ugly as the Boulevard Raspail.

Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (1926)
There was no funeral. There was no music. There was no period of
mourning. There were no flowers. There were only silence, quiet
weeping, whispers, and fear.
Richard Wright, Black Boy (1937)
If desired, a mini-lesson could follow on the topic of subject-verb agreement

in sentences beginning with an introductory there. Several of the published
examples in this section are taken from Scott Rice’s Right Words, Right Places
(1993, PP. 37-42).
5. Using the Passive When Naming the Agent Is Not Necessary
goal To demonstrate to writers that the passive construction has its uses,
despite what the grammar handbooks commonly say.
possible procedures Put on a transparency a passage that makes appro¬

priate and effective use of the passive construction: perhaps a news story
about a murder, wherein the journalist must avoid saying who committed
the crime. My favorite example is one from Postman and Weingartner’s
Linguistics: A Revolution in Teaching (1966). The passage they cite is the
opening paragraph of “The Great Wall of China,” by Franz Kafka. In the
translation they have used, it begins this way:
The Great Wall of China was finished off at its northern-most corner.
From the south-east and the south-west it came up in two sections that
finally converged there. This principle of piecemeal construction was also
applied on a smaller scale by both of the two great armies of labor, the
eastern and the western. It was done in this way.
Postman and Weingartner quote the entire paragraph and pose three “prob¬
lems” that lead students to draw conclusions about what difference it makes
to use the passive rather than the active in describing how the Great Wall
was built.
Teaching the Power of Dialects and Dialects of Power
Many teachers have taught students to “correct their usage” without real¬
izing that the students’ language patterns reflect a viable and equally valid
communication system, from a linguistic point of view. We have simply
thought we were teaching students to speak and write “correctly,” without
Appendix 227
realizing that their speech is correct, for the language community in which
they have been nurtured or with which they identify. In short, we have not
always taken into account that our students’ different dialect is, in many
circumstances, more appropriate than ours. Instead of focusing on the
dialects of the powerful within the larger society, then, the following
minhlessons are designed to help preservice and inservice teachers better
understand the viability and power of dialects and the importance of
valuing all dialects and voices, rather than trying to eradicate our students’
native dialects in favor of our own. Given this acceptance, we are then in
a better position to help students learn to switch dialect patterns to suit
their audience and situation.
1. Accepting Others’ Language Patterns and Voices,

and Examining Attitudes Toward Dialects
goals To encourage appreciation for others’ dialects and acceptance of

so-called nonstandard dialects in the classroom, in order not to stifle our
students’ voices. To consider and reconsider, as teachers, what stances we
should take toward dialects and dialect differences.
possible procedures Share with students the poem “Parsley,” by Rita

Dove (1983). Explain that according to the poet’s note, on October 2, 1957,
Rafael Trujillo (1891-1961), then dictator of the Dominican Republic,
ordered 20,000 blacks to be killed because they couldn’t pronounce the
letter r in perejil, the Spanish word for parsley. To facilitate discussion, you
might use the following comments from Noguchi (1991) regarding the
commonly observed fact that “the social status of a language variety is
intimately linked to the social status of its users” (p. 115):
Like other primates of the animal kingdom, humans seek, in one way or
another, to signal, enhance, and ultimately, protect status. (Note, for
example, the often painstaking care we take in the purchase, display, and
maintenance of clothes, cars, and abodes, a care sometimes far exceeding
the utilitarian purposes of these artifacts.) Language partakes in these
activities insofar as linguistic form conveys not just cognitive meaning but
often social status as well—high, low, in between, insider, outsider. . . .
(p. H4)
Noguchi goes on to suggest that professionals, including teachers, who

engage excessively in looking for “errors” in others’ speech or writing may
228 TEACHING THE POWER OF DIALECTS AND DIALECTS OF POWER

FIGURE A. 10 References on dialects versus the Language of Wider Communication.
Christensen, L. (1994). Whose standard? Teaching standard English. In B.

Bigelow, L. Christensen, S. Karp, B. Miner, & B. Peterson (Eds.), Rethinking
our classrooms: Teaching for equity and justice. Milwaukee, WI: Rethinking
Schools.
Conference on College Composition and Communication. (1974). Students’ right
to their own language. Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.
Conference on College Composition and Communication. (1988). The national
language policy (position statement). Urbana, IL: National Council of
Teachers of English.
Delpit, L. D. (1992). Acquisition of literate discourse: Bowing before the
master? Theory into Practice, 31, 296-302.
Farr, M., & Daniels, El. (1986). Language diversity and writing instruction. Urbana,
IL: ERIC Institute for Urban and Minority Education and the National
Council of Teachers of English.
Seymour, D. Z. (1971). Black children, black speech. Commonweal Magazine,
November 19. Reprinted in P. Eschholz, A. Rosa, & V. Clark (Eds.),
Language awareness (6th ed., pp. 122-130). New York: St. Martin’s Press,
1994- See also in the same book the article by R. L. Jones, pp. 131-134.
Sledd, J. EL (1969). BLdialectalism: The linguistics of white supremacy. English
Journal, 58, 1307-1315.
Smitherman, G. (1972). English teacher, why you be doing the thangs you don’t
do? English Journal, 61, 59-65.
(whether they realize it or not) be trying to “signal, enhance, or protect

their own status or the status of their group” (p. 114).
With teachers especially, here are some thoughuprovoking questions
that might be raised. Does Noguchi imply that teachers and other members
of the middle class have looked down upon other dialects because they have
looked down upon the speakers of these dialects? If so, and if Noguchi is
correct, what are some of the implications: for us as teachers, for students
whose dialects have not been valued by many in the middle and upper
classes, and for the students who ordinarily speak the valued Language of
Wider Communication? Can we break out of the tendency, and help our
students break out of the tendency, to use language as a means of preserving
and enhancing status? Must we instead, or also, help students become
comfortable with using the Language of Wider Communication, the lam
guage that has traditionally signaled greater status in many formal situ-
ations? For different perspectives on this matter, consult such references as
the ones listed in Figure A. 10.
Appendix 229
FIGURE A.l 1 Rayford’s song (Inada, 1993).
Rayford’s Song
Rayford’s song was Rayford’s song,

but it was not his alone, to own.
He had it, though, and kept it to himself
as we rowed-rowed-rowed the boat
through English country gardens
with all the whispering hope
we could muster, along with occasional
choruses of funiculbfunicula!
Weren’t we a cheery lot—

cornin’ ’round the mountain
with Susanna, banjos on our knees,
rompin’ through the leaves
of the third'grade music textbook.
Then Rayford Butler raised his hand.

For the first time, actually,
in all the weeks he had been in class,
and for the only time before he’d leave.
Yes, quiet Rayford, silent Rayford,
little Rayford, dark Rayford—
always in the same overalls—
that Rayford, Rayford Butler, raised his hand:
“Miss Gordon, ma’am—

we always singing your songs.
Could I sing one of my own?”
Pause. We looked at one another,

we looked at Rayford Butler,
we looked up at Miss Gordon, who said:
“Well, I suppose so, Rayford—

if you insist. Go ahead.
Just one song. Make it short.”
And Rayford Butler stood up very straight,

and in his high voice, sang:
“Suh'ivhing ah-loooow,
suh'ivheeet ah-charr-eee-oohh,
ah'Comin’ for to carr-eee
meee ah'hooooome ...”
Pause. Classroom, school, schoolyard,

neighborhood, the whole world

FIGURE A. 11, continued.
focusing on that one song, one voice

which had a light to it, making even
Miss Gordon’s white hair shine
in the glory of it, glowing
in the radiance of the song.
Pause. Rayford Butler sat down.

And while the rest of us
may have been spellbound,
on Miss Gordon’s face
was something like a smile,
or perhaps a frown:
“Very good, Rayford.

However, I must correct you:
the word is ‘chariot.’
‘Chariot.’ And there is no
such thing as a ‘chario.’
Do you understand me?”
“But Miss Gordon . . .”
“I said ‘chariot, chariot.’

Can you pronounce that for me?”
“Yes, Miss Gordon. Chariot.”
“Very good, Rayford.

Now, class, before we return
to our book, would anyone else
care to sing a song of their own?”
Our songs, our songs, were there—

on tips of tongues, but stuck
in throats—songs of love,
fun, animals, and valor, songs
of other lands, in other languages,
but they just wouldn’t come out.
Where did our voices go?
Rayford’s song was Rayford’s song,

but it was not his alone, to own.
“Well, then, class—

let’s turn our books to
‘Old Black Joe.’”
Lawson Inada
Appendix 231
2. Preserving and Appreciating Various Dialects and Voices
Possible Procedures
1. Share with students the poem “Rayford’s Song,” by Lawson Inada (1993)
(Figure A.11, p. 230). Discuss the issues and concerns it raises.
In Linda Christensen’s article “Celebrating the Student’s Voice” (1994a),

she explains that Inada came to her classroom and gave the following
background on this story:
In “Rayford’s Song,” Inada remembers one of his classrooms in the 1930s

in Fresno, a town in California’s San Joaquin Valley where many people
of African, Chinese, Filipino, Japanese, and Mexican descent worked in
the fields and canneries. “Our classroom was filled with shades of brown,”
he recalls. “Our names were Rayford Butler, Consuela and Pedro Gonzales,
Susie Chin, and Sam Shimabukuro. We were a mixture. The only white
person in the room was our teacher. Our textbooks had pictures and stories
about white kids named Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot. And the songs
in our songbooks were about Old Susanah coming ’round the mourn
tain and English gardens—songs we never heard in our neighborhood.”
(p. 109)
In discussing the language issues raised by “Rayford’s Song,” you might

also discuss other poems or passages wherein the persona expresses a com
nection between identity and language:
“Words,” by Vern Rutsala (1992), which explains why students

rejected the fancy words of the teacher and school.
Letter to Nettie from Celie, on pp. 183-184 of Alice Walker’s The
Color Purple (1982).
The poems “Learning English” and “English con Salsa,” in Cool
Salsa: Bilingual Poems on Growing Up Latino in the United States
(Carlson, 1994).
2. Share different literary works in which the author has attempted to

represent an ethnic, regional, or community dialect. Picture books often
appeal to readers of all ages. In Figure A. 12 are listed several books that
represent the Appalachian dialect, other regional and ethnic dialects, and
Black English Vernacular.
3. Invite students to write or “translate” a piece into an ethnic, regional, or

community dialect. For example, here is a translation by Gayle Crittenden,

FIGURE A. 12 References representing various dialects.
APPALACHIAN DIALECT IN PICTURE BOOKS

Birdseye, T., & Birdseye, D. H. (1994). She’ll be cornin’ round the mountain. Illus.
A. Glass. New York: Holiday House. An adaptation of the familiar song, which
was originally a black spiritual called “When the Chariot Comes.”
Compton, J. (1994). Ashpet, an Appalachian tale. Illus. K. Compton. New York:

Holiday House. A retelling of the Appalachian version of the Cinderella story.
Turner, T. N. (1994). Hillbilly night afore Christmas. Illus. ]. Rice. Gretna, LA:
Pelican. An adaptation of the The night before Christmas, by Clement Moore.
Van Laan, N. (1990). Possum come a-knockin. Illus. G. Booth. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, Dragonfly Books.
OTHER REGIONAL AND ETHNIC DIALECTS IN PICTURE BOOKS

“Trosclair.” (1992). Cajun night before Christmas. Illus. J. Rice, Ed. by Howard Jacobs.
Gretna, LA: Pelican. The dust jacket mentions several other books written or
illustrated by James Rice that may include regional dialect, including Texas night
before Christmas (1986), Cowboy night before Christmas (1986), A southern time
Christmas (Bernardini, 1991), and Cajun Columbus (Hughes, 1991).
BLACK ENGLISH VERNACULAR

Simmons, G. M., & Hutchinson, H. D. (Eds.). (1972). Black culture: Reading and
writing black. New York: Holt, Rinehart. For adults and young adults, an anthology
that includes some essays on Black English Vernacular, including some that employ
features of the dialect.
an African American, who was a preservice teacher in one of my grammar

classes. Read aloud by someone who speaks Black English Vernacular, the
passage has a beauty, rhythm, and genuineness that preserves, for me at
least, the reverence of the King James Version of the Bible, upon which it
was based.
1 Corinthians of the Holy Bible: King James Version

Chapter 13
Black English Vernacular Translation
1. I could take languages that I ain’t been taught, and be knowing every
one in all of heaven and earth, but if I ain’t got no love for nobody, I
jus’ be makin’ noise.
2. If I be goin’ round prophesy in’ and knowin’ all about what gon’ to be
happenin’ in the future, and know everything ’bout everything, and (if
Appendix 233
I) ain’t got no love for folks, it still don’t make no difference. I could
be movin’ mountains and I still wouldn’t be nothin’ without no love.
3. Peoples could be givin’ everything dey got to po’ folks, an’ even get
jacked for preachin’ the Gospel. But if there ain’t no love, they be jus’
goin’ round in circles.
4. Love be patient and kind. It ain’t jealous or envious. It ain’t boastful
or proud.
5. And love ain’t selfish or rude. It don’t take its own way, or be ruffled
easily. It don’t hold a grudge and hardly even notice when folks do it
wrong.
6. It never glad ’bout wrong things. It be happy when truth win out.
7. Love bear up under anything and everything that come. Love always
believe the best of everybody, an’ it stand everything an’ not fade. It
endure everything and stay strong.
8. Love go on forever and ever, when all the prophesy in’, language and
knowledge gone.
9. ’Cause we be knowin’ so little, even with these things, and the
preachin’ of those who is gifted still don’t be enough.
10. But when we be made perfect, then all these thing will come to an
end, and they will disappear.
11. It like this: When I was a chile, I talk and thought and reasoned like
a chile do. But when I became a man, I have did away with childish
things.
12. ’Cause now it like we lookin’ through blurry glass that we can’t see
through, and be knowin’ a little: but when He comes we be knowin’
things that only God know and I’ll understand and know things the
way God been understandin’ and knowin’ me.
3. Considering Dialect Appropriateness for Audience and Purpose
Possible Procedures
1. Invite students to consider the dialect patterns reflected in the follow^

ing two essays. The first is from Geneva Smitherman’s “English Teacher,
Why You Be Doing the Thangs You Don’t Do?” (1972). The second is
from Suzette Elgin’s “Don’t No Revolutions Hardly Ever Come by
Here” (1978). Discuss whether the use of dialect and informal speech
patterns is appropriate to the writer’s purpose and audience. Are there
situations today where the use of ethnic, regional, or community dialect
forms is particularly appropriate in writing, other than in poetry, drama, or
fiction?

Let me say right from the bell, this piece is not to be taken as an
indictment of all English teachers in inner-city Black schools, for there are,
to be sure, a few brave, enlightened souls who are doing an excellent job
in the ghetto. To them, I say: just keep on keepin’ on. But to those others,
that whole heap of English teachers who be castigating Black students for
using a “nonstandard” dialect—I got to say: the question in the title is
directed to you, and if the shoe fit, put it on.
In all fairness, I suppose, one must credit many such correctionist
English teachers for the misguided notion that they are readying Black
students for the world (read: white America). ... As a daughter of the
Black ghetto myself, don’t seem like it’s no reason the teacher be doin’
none of that correctin’ mess. (After all, what do you want—good grammar
or good sense?) [Smitherman, 1972]
There were some other bothersome things I noticed at the time. Just
for a for-instance, we know that the part of the brain that runs things
when we talk and understand is a different part than the one we use for
reading and writing. Seeing as how that’s so, it’s not unreasonable to think
about that as being a need for a bridge from the one part to the other. We
know that when somebody’s convinced a student he’ll do badly, and when
he has a teacher that thinks the same, you can count on him to oblige by
doing as near his worst as he can get. In my state of California a student
can’t hardly pick up a paper or turn on the TV news without getting told
yet one more time how many dreadful things are wrong with her or him;
it seems likely they’d take it for granted their teachers believe the news.
And then my experience with students in linguistics has always been
that—writing classes or no writing classes—somehow or tother they do
learn how to write. Same as the professors, they may write stuff that’s
boring, or it sounds like a brand new preacher wrote it with his collar too
tight at the time, or that has a whole lot of other things about it that
could do with some rearranging; but one and all they learn College English,
and they’re right good at putting it to use. Finally, there’s few creatures as
crazy for finding out how things go together and what you do with them
as people are. It seems no more than common sense that just taking
advantage of that side of human nature would make a student work hard
at learning things. [Elgin, 1978]
2. Compare the preceding Smitherman excerpt with the following excerpt

from a language policy statement from the late 1980s, which Smitherman
participated in drafting (Conference on College Composition and Commu¬
nication, 1988). Consider whether this seems a reasonable language policy
for the late twentieth and twenty-first centuries. (Item 1 is meant to include
competence in a so-called standard dialect of English, at least for those who
speak English as their native language.)
Appendix 235
Be it resolved that CCCC members promote the National Language Policy
adopted at the Executive Committee meeting on March 16, 1988. This
policy has three inseparable parts:
1. To provide resources to enable native and nonnative speakers to achieve

oral and literate competence in English, the language of wider com'
munication.
2. To support programs that assert the legitimacy of native languages and
dialects and ensure that proficiency in one’s mother tongue will not
be lost.
3. To foster the teaching of languages other than English so that native
speakers of English can rediscover the language of their heritage or
learn a second language.
Teaching Punctuation and Mechanics for Convention,

Clarity, and Style
In this section, I have chosen to illustrate three lessons relevant to editing

for the conventions of written English and one lesson on breaking those
conventions for particular effects.
1. Using the Apostrophe in Possessives
goal To heighten writers’ awareness of how the apostrophe is used in

possessives, along with the fact that it is not used in ordinary plurals or in
ordinary verbs.
Possible Procedures
1. Choose some sentences from students’ writing that use the apostrophe
correctly in possessives. Demonstrate how these possessive nouns always
modify (describe) a following noun. Figure A. 13 shows some sentences from
my own students’ writing.
2. For a second lesson, choose sentences in which the apostrophe has been
overgeneralized to an ordinary plural or an ordinary verb. Show how these
constructions fail to meet the criterion just explained (see Figure A.14).
236 TEACHING PUNCTUATION AND MECHANICS FOR CONVENTION, CLARITY, AND STYLE
FIGURE A. 13 Punctuating possessive nouns.
• •• -Me. Storys meaning

is u.nA*m€*C,
.. . -tes-Rs ...
U*srt\ia,bU <?S-hrr\*-f-es of
cl reader *3 p**fe
• • m6~êy c«,*j -f-Aen pt+*\

&cM 1/1b &s_~ko i ■f
-f-ta, /earners'* r\etjs
net's pAre**f$ -fxfec.

<3 re*,i ih +1 rer^j f n •Mei’r
cAf//reh's prtyress.
2. Using the Colon as an Announcer
goal To clarify how the colon is used.
Possible Procedures
1. I compare the colon to a trumpet signaling an announcement. Most

commonly, the colon is said to introduce a list of things. However, it is also
Appendix 237
FIGURE A. 14 Ordinary plurals versus possessives.
P/vr«.Js vs. possess/Ves
“ X'n Also •khtkkt'n^ A,kourl

V* ihts uiAon I V*1 Vt*4t¥\a
(X+'s V«/• i At's D*y, j
• ff ’to+cAtrs t***Hy h«v&

tvcA
...a, -i^ticAtrs jok is hsi/er* atone)
used at the end of an independent clause to signal that the following clause
or phrase in some way explains, clarifies, or summarizes the first. Examples
that can be shared on transparencies:
We brought lots of things back from Europe: some Austrian crystal,

wax ornaments, two nutcrackers, and a beer stein.
There are at least three reasons we can’t go again this summer: it’s
too expensive, we have to work, and we promised ourselves to go to
Elawaii first.
Travel planners usually suggest trips that are way too expensive: my
agent, for example, recommended a complete tour of Asia for several
thousand dollars. [A semicolon could go here instead of a colon. But
when a second sentence clarifies or gives an example relating to the
first, a colon is at least an option. So is a period, of course.]
This is what I really want: to go on safari in Africa.
There was just one thing he wanted to do in Arizona: see the Grand
Canyon.
There was just one place he wanted to go: the Grand Canyon.
[A dash could replace the colon in this sentence and the previous
one.]
2. Three uses of the colon are commonly discouraged by the grammar
handbooks. These could be shared in a follow-up mini-lesson.
The six basic colors are: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple,
[delete colon after am, is, are, was, or were functioning as the verb]
We wanted to go someplace warm, such as: Hawaii, Jamaica, or
Cancun. [delete colon after such as or for example]
The places where we could still get reservations consisted of: Las
Vegas, Miami, and Phoenix, [delete colon between a preposition and
its object]
3. Punctuating Restrictive and Nonrestrictive Clauses and Elements
As usual, a good way to present the information is via a transparency. I

have sketched here the kind of information that might be presented in a
sequence of mini-lessons (use of the grammatical terminology may be
minimized or eliminated). This treatment, not usually found in the grammar
handbooks, emphasizes the relationship between whole clauses and the
phrases that can be viewed as reductions of them. For other explanations
and examples, check a grammar handbook’s treatment of restrictive and
nonrestrictive clauses, participial phrases, appositives, and of course the uses
of the comma.
Here are some of the points you may want to make, through a discussion
of examples:
1. Restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses are adjective clauses; they

modify nouns.
2. A restrictive clause (or a phrase or word derived from a deep
structure clause) is one that the writer considers essential for
identifying who or what is being discussed. Therefore, a restrictive
clause may also be called an essential clause.
3. In contrast, a nonrestrictive or nonessential clause (or phrase or
word) is one not considered essential for identifying who or what is
being discussed. It adds details that are interesting, but not crucial for
identification.
4- A restrictive or essential modifier is not set off by commas or other
punctuation—precisely because it is essential.
5. A nonrestrictive or nonessential modifier is set off by commas from
the rest of the sentence. That is, a comma comes both before it and
Appendix 239
after it, unless the modifier occurs at the beginning or end of the
sentence. (Sometimes, when a sentence contains commas for other
reasons, a nonessential modifier will be set off with dashes or
parentheses.)
6. The word that is ordinarily used to introduce restrictive clauses, the
word which to introduce nonrestrictive clauses. Who can introduce
either kind.
Examples
The kids who broke into our garage left tennis shoe prints on the oily
floor. [The clause is essential to identify which kids. Therefore, it is
not set off by commas.]
The riot that occurred at Mt. Pleasant this weekend should never have
happened.
The riot at Mt. Pleasant this weekend should never have happened.
[The clause or phrase is essential to clarify which riot. Therefore, it
is not set off by commas.]
All triangles that consist of three sides of equal length are equilateral
triangles.
All triangles consisting of three sides of equal length are equilateral
triangles. [The clause or phrase is considered essential for identifying
which triangles.]
She likes best my book that is called Understanding Whole Language.
She likes best my book Understanding Whole Language. [The title is
essential for identifying which book, because I’ve written more than
one. Notice that we would ordinarily reduce the underlying clause to
just a phrase, the actual title of the book.]
My latest book, [which is] Success At Last!, deals with helping
students who have an attention deficit disorder achieve success—in
life, and in the classroom. [The word latest already clarifies which
book. Therefore, the title would be considered nonessential.]
Our next-door neighbor, [who is] Mr. Hawking, teaches music at the
middle school.
Mr. Hawking, [who is] our next-door neighbor, teaches music at the
middle school. [The modifying clause or phrase is not considered
essential to clarify who is being discussed. Therefore it is set off by
commas.]
The rhythm method, which is often mistakenly considered birth control,
is nearly 100% effective in producing parents. [The clause or phrase
is nonessential.]
Often mistakenly considered birth control, the rhythm method is nearly
100% effective in producing parents.
Similarly, in each of the following instances the person is identified by

name. Therefore, the modifying clause or phrase is considered nonessential
and is set off by commas.
Old Mr. MacGregor, who hated for rabbits to eat his carrots, chased
Peter with a hoe.
Hating for rabbits to eat his carrots, Old Mr. MacGregor chased Peter
with a hoe.
Paul, who wanted to be sure the rapids could be run safely, went ahead
to scout them.
Wanting to be sure the rapids could be run safely, Paul went ahead to
scout them.
Paul went ahead to scout the rapids, wanting to be sure they could be
run safely.
Carla, who was involved in her book, did not hear the emergency siren.
Involved in her book, Carla did not hear the emergency siren.
Charlie, who was eager to see what might happen, poured the
chemicals together.
Eager to see what might happen, Charlie poured the chemicals together.
4. Using Punctuation and Orthography for Particular Effects
Many teachers familiar with the poetry of e.e. cummings have encouraged
their students to experiment with using punctuation or orthography uncom
ventionally, for particular effect. One such poem, which my son wrote in
a high school creative writing class, follows:
CUMMINGNESS
is it a virus
a disease
is this (cummingness) catchy
cant i X'Cape
h(l)pm(e)
pbease
John Weaver
Appendix 241
Such playfulness with language does not, however, have to be confined to
poetry. In fact, it can be employed with serious informative or persuasive
intent.
One teacher in my grammar class, Martha Bay, became fascinated with
the ideas in Tom Romano’s article “Breaking the Rules in Style’’ (1988),
ideas that came originally from Winston Weathers’s An Alternate Style:
Options in Composition (1980). Intrigued enough to try the ideas herself,
Martha described her evolving philosophy of teaching grammar in the
double voice mode, with one voice that of a traditional English teacher,
and the other that of a teacher eager to try teaching grammar in the context
of its use. Following are what read like journal entries from these two voices.
In this excerpt, it is mostly orthography that is used unconventionally, not
punctuation.
Minidessons; WOW. FrrrrraGMENTS! not Here in my

miniTESSONS-WOW. No more room. Dieagramming is the only
diagramming of sentences. way to learn the proper sentence
Discovery-exPloration of other structure for my students. Teachers
writers will help to show different from other classes are always
styles students can use in their complaining on the poor content
own writing. EXPERimenting and grammar of the students’
(EXPERience—EXPERt). If there writing so they must need more
is a need with a specific grammar work, more dittos, more, more,
problem it can be taken care of More, mORe papers. Good
individually. Short LESSONS writers, must know; at all
(mini) to whole class on concept. times—what is cor retcht in
Let them find use for lesson in grammar.
each others’ writing.
In our concern for correctness and teaching the conventions of Edited

American English, let us be sure to still encourage such playfulness with
language as that exhibited by Martha Bay.
Glossary of Grammatical Terms
l his glossary does not list all the grammatical or grammar-related terms
used in the book, but it defines the the ones mentioned as most useful and
describes or illustrates a few others that are used frequently or that teachers
of writing might use incidentally in explaining how grammar determines
punctuation. However, some of the more technical grammatical terms are
illustrated and sometimes briefly defined within the main entries; for in-
stance, the gerund is mentioned under Verb, and the direct object and
predicate nominative are mentioned under Noun. The glossary mainly
reflects traditional terminology with which teachers may be familiar, though
I have also drawn upon insights from structural and transformational lin-
guistics (see Chapter 3) in an attempt to improve upon the traditional
explanations.
Among the most useful terms are subject, verb, predicate; clause,
independent clause, and dependent clause; sentence, grammatical sen¬
tence, and T-unit (all three meaning the same); and modifier and free
modifier. It is recommended that those with little background in grammar
read these entries before reading others.
Absolute An absolute construction functions as a free modifier within a

sentence. Though technically a phrase, the absolute has a subject of
sorts, and most of a verb phrase; therefore, it is sometimes characterized
as a near-clause. In each of the following examples, the absolute could
be made into an independent clause by adding a form of the verb BE
(am, is, are, was, or were). This reveals its near-clause nature.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that the flooding Pacuare rose while
swelled its banks.
My protesting lungs ready to betray me, I worked my way to the edge
of the raft and popped out from under, gasping for air.
Once hauled in, for the longest time I lay in the raft like an
overturned turtle, my arms and legs useless.
Other, less common examples of the absolute include the incomplete

verb being:
243
Joe borrowed my car for Saturday night, the deal being that I can use
his CD player for the party Sunday.
I won’t be in class on Friday, the reason being that the debate team is
going to a tournament.
While such absolute constructions are grammatical, they may be less

effective than another alternative. In the second example, for
instance, the reason being that could be changed to because.
Adjective An adjective is a word used to describe or “modify” a noun.

More generally, any word or group of words that modifies a noun can
be called an adjectival. Basic adjectives can usually be compared for
degree: slow, slower, slowest; good, better, best; reasonable, more reason¬
able, most reasonable. Other single words may function like adjectives,
but they are not regular adjectives. For writers, what is most important
is the adjectival function, not the niceties of what is and is not technb
cally an adjective. In the following examples, the adjectivals are itali¬
cized, and the actual adjectives are underlined. (Flowever, I have not
marked as adjectivals the articles a, an, and the, or other determiners
like this and these when they function adjectivally.)
The raft had been swept over a modest waterfall.

The most frightening part was a long rapids on a river called the
General. [Notice that on a river called the General describes what
rapids, and within that modifier the phrase called the General
describes what river. The first of these two modifiers is called a
prepositional phrase, while the second is a participial phrase.)
But then, another wave engulfed me. [Another is an adjectival here,
though it can also function as a pronoun.)
stage the previous summer. [This sentence contains three regular
adjectives, plus a noun functioning as an adjectival: flood. A noun
modifying another noun is more technically called a noun adjunct.)
Getting thrown into the raging river was scary. [The first adjectival
is a present participle. The second one, scary, functions as a
predicate adjective: it occurs in the predicate part of the sentence
but modifies the subject, Getting thrown into the raging river.]
And Rollie, a water lover since childhood, had been warned not to “go
out too far.” [This adjectival is more technically called an appositive
construction.)
244 GLOSSARY OF GRAMMATICAL TERMS

The wall of water momentarily crushed me, pushing me toward the
bottom of the river. [Of water is a prepositional phrase modifying the
noun wall. The other adjectival modifies the same noun; it is a
participial phrase telling what the wall of water did.]
The rush of fear had left me absolutely limp, my arms and legs useless.
[The prepositional phrase of fear describes rush. Limp describes me,
and so does the absolute phrase my arms and legs useless.]
Adverb Traditionally, an adverb is said to describe and modify a verb, an

adjective, or another adverb. More generally, any word or group of
words that functions like an adverb can be called an adverbial. Many
adverbials seem to describe the action of the sentence (or clause), so
they have therefore been said to modify the verb. However, many
adverbials seem to modify the entire clause: the agent and the action
together, the entire subject-verb unit. Adverbs and other adverbials
often tell how, when, where, or why, with respect to the action (see,
for instance, the subordinating conjunctions listed in Figure A.5, which
make independent clauses into adverbial clauses). Like regular adjec¬
tives, regular adverbs can be compared: slow, slower, slowest; rapidly,
more rapidly, most rapidly. However, many other words and groups of
words can work adverbially. For writers, what is most important is the
adverbial function, particularly the function of modifying an entire
clause. In the following examples, adverbs and adverbials are italicized,
with no further distinction made.
The most frightening part was . . . [Most modifies the adjective

frightening.]
I seemed to be ascending all too slowly through the murky water.
[The adverbial phrase all too slowly modifies the verb phrase seemed
to be ascending. Within the adverbial, too is an adverb modifying
slowly, and all is an adverb modifying too.]
Early in the summer, it had seemed a great idea to sign up for a
whitewater rafting trip in Costa Rica. [The adverbial phrase seems
to modify the entire main clause.]
The friendly salesgirl was eager to help me / when I mentioned that
we’d signed up for an Adventure trip in Costa Rica. [The infinitive
phrase to help me seems to modify the adjective eager. The
subordinate clause beginning with when seems to modify the entire
main clause—and indeed, the adverbial clause can be placed in front
of the entire main clause.]
Glossary of Grammatical Terms 245

The words barely had time to flit through my mind / before the raft
capsized for a second time, / throwing me unceremoniously into the raging
water. [Barely modifies the verb had, and through my mind seems to
modify the verb form flit (actually the infinitive, to flit). The clause
beginning with before seems to modify everything that precedes it,
the entire main clause. The participial phrase throwing me
unceremoniously into the raging water seems to modify the entire
preceding clause, a subordinate adverbial clause.]
Appositive An appositive is a noun or nominal that functions adjectb

vally, to modify a noun that (ordinarily) immediately precedes the
appositive. The appositive functions to rename or categorize the noun
or nominal. Serving as free modifiers, normal appositives are set off from
the rest of the sentence by commas.
The friendliest guide, Miti, was the one who led us to neandisaster.
The one who led us to neandisaster was the friendliest guide, Miti.
The Papuare, one of the rivers that we ran, had two falls named “The
Indians’ Graveyard.’’
One of the oldest rivers that we ran, the Paguare, had two falls
named “The Indians’ Graveyard.”
Rollie, a water lover since childhood, had been warned not to “go out
too far.”
A water lover since childhood, Rollie had nevertheless been warned
not to “go out too far.”
Auxiliary verb An auxiliary verb is a helper that comes before the main
verb. A main verb may have more than one helper before it. See in
the Appendix the lesson emphasizing auxiliaries. In the following ex^
amples, the auxiliaries are italicized.
was leaving
has left
might leave
should be leaving
must have been leaving
ought to have left
Clause A clause consists of a subject and a predicate (that is, a subject

and a verb plus anything that may come after it to complete or modify
it). An independent, or main, clause is one that can stand alone as a
sentence, grammatically speaking. A dependent, or subordinate, clause

is one that cannot stand alone, grammatically speaking: it depends upon
the meaning expressed in the main clause. There are three kinds of
subordinate clauses: noun clauses, which function as nominals; adjec^
tive clauses, which function as adjectivals; and adverb clauses, which
function as adverbials. In the following sentences, the main clause is
italicized; the subordinate clause (if there is one) is underlined and
labeled as to function.
Then flying home from North Carolina, I read parts of the book on
Costa Rican rivers. [The italicized part is the main clause. The
remainder is a free modifier that relates to the main clause.
Although it contains a verb form, flying, it is not a complete clause
because it does not have a subject.]
True, we had to sign up for the advanced kayak and rafter’s trip, because
I couldn’t go any other time, [main clause plus adverb clause]
I can see if there’s anything we need for the Costa Rica trip.
[Within the main clause, this noun clause functions as the direct
object of see.]
She showed me a book on Costa Rican rivers that I bought to take home
to Rollie. [main clause with adjective clause modifying book]
Comma splice When two independent clauses are joined by just a comma
(with no conjoining word), the resulting sentence is called a
comma splice. (Or, a comma used in this way can itself be called
a comma splice.) Comma splices are usually prohibited by the grammar
handbooks, but short comma splice sentences can be quite effective (see
the discussion in Chapter 4, including Figure 4-10). Following are a longer,
ineffective comma splice sentence and a shorter, more effective one.

whitewater rafting trip in Costa Rica, Rollie had been wanting to go
there. [The second comma is the comma splice, between the two
independent clauses.]
I gasped for air, I couldn’t wait. [This shorter comma splice sentence
is more effective because the absence of a conjoining word propels
the reader through the sentence, reflecting the inability to wait.]
Conjunction A conjunction is a word or phrase that joins words and

constructions. There are two basic kinds of conjunctions, coordinating
conjunctions and subordinating conjunctions. Correlative conjunct
tions are pairs of conjunctions working like coordinators. For lists of

Coordinating conjunctions, Correlative conjunctions, and Subordi¬
nating conjunctions see Figures A.4 and A.5.
Conjunctive adverb Conjunctive adverbs are words or phrases that have

an adverbial sense to them but that join two independent clauses in
the same way that coordinating conjunctions do. Figure A.6 lists com¬
mon conjunctive adverbs, including words and phrases like hence, thus,
and then; however, furthermore, and moreover; for example, as a result,
and on the other hand. Usually a semicolon is used between the inde¬
pendent clauses, but a period may be used instead. In the following
examples, notice that most conjunctive adverbs are set off by commas.
(Reading the sentence aloud can usually help the writer decide whether
to set off a conjunctive adverb with the comma.)
I was only free in October; hence we had to take the advanced

kayaking trip.
I wanted to go whitewater rafting; however, we never should have
taken the advanced trip.
I wanted to go whitewater rafting; the truth, however, is that the
video of rafting on the General scared me to death.
To this day, Rollie believes he nearly drowned in the Papuare; as a
result, we have not gone whitewater rafting since then.
We’ve used every excuse and ruse we can think of; for example,
we’ve made sure to avoid the part of North Carolina where the
Nantahala River runs.
Construction This is simply a term for more than one word functioning
together as a unit.
Coordinating conjunction Coordinating conjunctions (see Figure A.4)

join constructions that are of equal grammatical weight; the construc¬
tions should be the same kind of units grammatically. The coordinating
conjunctions are and, but, or, yet, so, nor. These conjunctions can be
used to join words, phrases, or clauses. When used to connect inde¬
pendent clauses, they may stand at the beginning of the second clause;
published writers occasionally use them this way, despite what the
grammar handbooks say.
True, we had to sign up for the advanced kayak and rafter’s trip,
because I couldn’t go any other time. But we cheerfully sent in our
$1,000 deposit to the Nantahala Outdoor Center.

Correlative conjunction Correlative conjunctions (see Figure A.4) are
pairs that link grammatically equal elements in the same way coordi¬
nating conjunctions do. The correlative conjunctions are either ... or,
neither . . . nor, not only . . . but also, both . . . and, whether ... or.
Examples:
We’d either finish the rafting trip or hike through the rain forest, up
the mountain.
Neither Rollie nor I wanted to hike out alone.
We had to keep rafting, whether we liked it or not. [Not seems to
stand for “whether we didn’t like it”; the underlying structure is
parallel.]
Dependent clause See Clause.
Direct object See Noun.
Fragment A fragment is something punctuated as a sentence that is not

grammatically complete (does not consist of or contain an independent
clause). Dependent clauses and phrases are fragments when punctu¬
ated as sentences. Grammar handbooks typically warn against frag¬
ments. However, they can be quite effective when used judiciously, and
they occur with increasing frequency in published writing. Subordinate
clauses punctuated as sentences seem to bother more people than
phrases so punctuated.
We went whitewater rafting in Colorado. Because it sounded like fun.

[an example of a fragment I would not actually use]
Then, with a thwack, I hit the surface—the surface of the raft, that
is: the underneath surface. Safe, and not safe, [a fragment I used in
“The Graveyard” narrative]
Most of the time, a fragment can be connected to the sentence that comes
before it. Notice, however, that this is not true with the second example,
which I consider stylistically effective. This is an instance of the inde¬
pendent fragment, as characterized by Kline and Memering (1977). See
Chapter 4 and particularly Figure 4.10 for more details about the effective
use of fragments as punctuated sentences. These are so common among
published writers that Kline and Memering call them minor sentences.
Free modifier As described by Francis Christensen (1967), the free modi¬

fier is an optional modifier that meets at least one of the following
criteria, and often both: (1) it can be moved to at least one other

position in the sentence; (2) it is set off by commas (or could be and
possibly should be). One frequent kind of free modifier is the adverbial,
including the adverb clause. (See Adverb, Clause, Subordinating com
junction.) The other kind is the adjectival, including appositives,
participial phrases, and adjective clauses that are set off by commas (but
the adjective clauses are not movable, unlike most free modifiers). (See
Appositive, Participle.) Adjective clauses are described in the Appem
dix in the lesson on punctuating restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses
and elements. The absolute construction is a free modifier popularized
by Christensen (1967). Being a modifier, the absolute has to have an
adjectival or adverbial function, but sometimes it is difficult to decide
what, exactly, a particular absolute modifies. (See Absolute.)

whitewater rafting trip in Costa Rica, [adverbial phrase modifying
the verb seemed]
I read parts of the book on Costa Rican rivers during the flight home
from North Carolina, [adverbial prepositional phrase that can be
moved to the front of the sentence, where it would typically be set
off by a comma]
And she offered to show me a video on whitewatering in Costa
Colorado, [adverb clause]
too far.” [appositive]
I drove to the Nantahala Outdoor Center, conveniently arriving, after
a full day’s drive across the state, just too late for the last rafting trip.
[participial phrase, containing an adverbial prepositional phrase
within it]
I shouldn’t have been surprised that the flooding Paûare rose while
swelled its banks, [absolute]
My protesting lungs ready to betray me, I worked my way to the edge
of the raft and popped out from under, gasping for air. [first an
absolute, then a participial phrase]
The video, which showed people whitewater rafting in Costa Rica,
scared me to death. [A restrictive clause, which is conventionally set
off by commas. This example demonstrates the typical awkwardness

of such unmovable modifiers when they modify the simple subject of
the clause.]
Fused sentence See Run-on.
Gerund See Verb.
Grammar The term grammar has several meanings. For example, it means
a description of the syntactic structures and “rules” of a language, as
well as the actual structures and patterns themselves. It also means a
functional command of these structures and patterns, that is, the ability
to understand and use a language and its structures. Grammar can also
refer to the study of the structures of a language. It can mean the
rhetorically effective use of syntactic structures (see Rhetoric and Syn¬
tax, Syntactic). It is commonly used to refer to prescriptions for using
certain grammatical constructions and forms, and avoiding others: in
other words, prescriptions for using the language according to socially
determined norms. It can be used to refer to a book that reflects a
description of the language or contains prescriptions for using it. Some¬
times the term grammar includes spelling, the mechanics of punctua¬
tion, and so forth (though in this book, spelling is excluded). Typically
the context will make the relevant meaning(s) of grammar clear.
Grammatical sentence An independent clause plus the dependent

clause(s) or phrase(s) (if any) that are attached to it or embedded
within it. In research studies, the grammatical sentence has often been
called a minimum terminable unit, or T-unit. See T-unit.
Independent clause See Clause.
Indirect object See Noun.
Infinitive See Verb.
Interjection In traditional grammar, the interjection is typically consid¬

ered the eighth part of speech. However, it is not really a grammatical
construction. Rather, the interjection is a word or phrase that expresses
emotion and that is not grammatically part of a clause: an expression
like Yikes! or Darn it! or Well, when it occurs at the beginning of a
sentence.
Main clause See Clause.
Main verb See Verb.

Minor sentence A grammatical fragment punctuated as a sentence. Kline
and Memering (1977) introduced the term minor sentence to describe
kinds of fragments that are punctuated as sentences in published writ'
ing.
Modifier A modifier is a word or construction that describes or limits

something. In English, there are two kinds of modifiers: adjectival and
adverbial. See Adjective, Adverb, Free modifier.
M-unit A grammatically incomplete group of words that can be recon-

structed as a T-unit. This term was developed for research in analyzing
young children’s utterances and writings. It contrasts with garble, a
group of words that cannot reasonably be reconstructed as a T-unit. See
T-unit.
Near-clause See Absolute.
Nominal See Noun.
Noun Traditionally, a noun is said to be the name of a person, place,

thing, or idea. A noun is a word that takes an ending for plural or
possessive, and usually both: boy, boys, boy’s, boys’; deer, deer’s; oatmeal,
oatmeal’s; scissors, scissors’; Mary, Mary’s. More generally, any word or
group of words that works like a noun can be called a nominal. Within
sentences, there are five basic noun functions: subject, direct object,
indirect object, predicate nominative, and object of preposition. Several
kinds of constructions can serve in direct object position, and most of
these can serve in other positions as well; however, the variety is
illustrated below only in direct object position. For writers, what is
probably most important is the nominal function. Thus in the following
examples, the nominals are italicized, with no further distinction made
between regular nouns and other kinds of nominals. Furthermore, the
different noun functions are illustrated and different nominal construc¬
tions are named, but with no further explanation. One way to identify
a nominal is to see whether the word something or the word someone
can be substituted for the construction. If the answer is yes, the con¬
struction is functioning like a noun.
The raft had been swept over a modest waterfall. [The raft is the
subject. Waterfall is the object of the preposition o<uer.]
The most frightening part was a long rapids. [The most frightening part is
the subject. A long rapids is a predicate nominative: a nominal in the

predicate part of the sentence that categorizes or renames the
subject.]
I watched horrified as a raft tackled the rapid. [I is the subject of
watched; raft is the subject of tackled; the rapid is the direct object of
tackled.]
One of the guides gave me the paddle he’d retrieved. [One is the subject
of gave, and the guides is the object of the preposition of. The direct
object of gave is the paddle he’d retrieved (which has nominals within
it). The indirect object of gave, the recipient of the paddle, is me.]
I didn’t know how much deeper he had been pushed by the second wave.
[I is the subject of know, and its direct object is how much deeper he
had been pushed by the second wave. There are other nominals within
this nominal, of course.]
a vacation, [nominal]
not to go whitewater rafting in Costa Rica.
[infinitive nominal]
I really wanted
for him to say we didn’t have to go. [infinitive
nominal that has a nominal clause within it]
what I knew was impossible. [WH word nominal]
[Each of these nominals is serving as the direct object of wanted.]
Object See Noun.
Object of preposition See Noun, Preposition.
Participial phrase See Participle.
Participle Two of a verb’s forms are participial. The Gng form of a verb is
the present participle form, while the form that we would use after has,
have, or had is the past participle form (for our dialect, whatever it may
be). These verb forms may be used as adjectivals, to modify nouns. The
participles may occur as single^word modifiers (usually before the noun),
but they may also occur as the head word in a participle phrase, also
called a participial phrase. See also Verb.
There were 500 exciting miles of whitewater.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the flooding Pacuare rose.
The paddle floating downstream was Rollie’s. [participial phrase]
The authors talked about flash floods in the rainy season, describing
an incident when a film crew was making a commercial, [participial
phrase]

Our scheduled trip was for October, the rainy season.
Scheduled for October, our trip would surely occur during the rainy
season, [participial phrase]
We went on a trip scheduled during the rainy season, [participial
phrase]
Parts of speech In English, there are said to be eight parts of speech. Four
of these convey the unique meanings of the sentence: nouns, verbs,
adjectives, and adverbs. Pronouns take the place of nouns. Two parts
of speech serve as connecting words: prepositions and conjunctions.
The eighth part of speech, the interjection, is not really a grammatical
unit at all, but a word or phrase that expresses emotion and that is not
grammatically part of a clause.
Phrase A phrase is a group of words that functions as one construction.

Unlike a clause, a phrase does not have both a subject and a complete
verb. In some of the following examples, the phrase has a verb form,
but not a complete verb. Each example illustrates a kind of phrase that
is discussed separately under its own heading, but there are other kinds
of phrases too. Some of the labeled phrases are free modifiers, while
others are not. See Free modifier.)
The raft had been swept ewer a modest waterfall, landing ofTbalance
in a hole, [prepositional phrases]
too far.” [appositive]
One of the oldest rivers that we ran, the Paguare, had two falls named
“The Indians' Graveyard." [Of the oldest rivers that we ran is a
prepositional phrase that includes an adjective clause within it; the
Paguare is an appositive, and named “The Indians’ Graveyard" is a
past participle phrase.]
Unnerved by our second swim in the Paguare, we nevertheless
continued downstream, [past participle phrase]
The paddle floating downstream was Rollie’s. [present participle phrase]
Eileen ferried me to the passenger raft, dipping her paddle with sure
skilled strokes, keeping us from continuing downstream, [two present
participle phrases]
I went under again, my struggles useless against the powerful wave.
[absolute]

Predicate The predicate is one of two obligatory parts of a clause, along
with the subject. The predicate part of a clause includes the verb (verb
phrase) plus anything that completes or modifies it. In the following
simple sentences, everything that is not part of the subject is part of
the predicate.
She showed me a book on Costa Rican rivers.

The raft had been swept over a modest waterfall.
The wall of water momentarily crushed me.
I wasn’t really scared.
The book on Costa Rican rivers scares me.
Predicate nominative See Noun.
Preposition A preposition (see Figure A.3) is a word that comes before a

noun or other nominal (hence proposition). The preposition and the
nominal, its object, together constitute a prepositional phrase. A prepo^
sitional phrase often modifies a noun that comes before it, and hence
functions as an adjectival. Alternatively, a prepositional phrase may
function as an adverbial, to modify the verb or the entire clause. The
prepositional phrases are italicized in the following sentences.
The wall of water momentarily crushed me. [functions adjectivally]

The raft had been swept over a modest waterfall, landing offTalance
in a hole, [function adverbially]
stage the previous summer. [Here, we have prepositional phrases
within prepositional phrases. The levels of structure can be indicated
like this:
(1) I was game [main clause];
(2) despite our little adventure the previous summer [prepositional
phrase];
(3) in the Nantahala [prepositional phrase modifying adventure];
(4) at high flood stage [prepositional phrase modifying
Nantahala].
Prepositional phrase See Preposition.
Pronoun A pronoun is a word that stands for a noun (hence the name:
pro, ‘for,’ and noun). The following list includes most pronouns. Pro-
nouns have traditionally been defined in terms of their function: they

stand for a noun or nominal. However, many of these words can also
function as adjectivals.
I me my mine myself
we us our ours ourself, ourselves
you your yours yourself
he him his himself
she her hers herself
it its itself
they them their theirs themselves
this each none no one who

that one any nobody whom
these few every anyone whose
those both some anybody which
several everyone what
many everybody
all someone
either somebody
neither
Punctuated sentence Whatever occurs between an initial capital (upper'

case) letter and the end mark of punctuation (period, question mark,
exclamation point). A punctuated sentence may consist of one T'unit,
more than one T'unit, or less than a T'unit. In the last sentence, the
punctuated sentence would be called a fragment (also a minor sen'
tence). (See Fragment and Minor sentence,) The following punctuated
sentences illustrate these different relationships.
I wanted to go whitewater rafting in Costa Rica, [one T'unit]

I wanted to go whitewater rafting in Costa Rica but not to go
during the rainy season, [still just one independent clause and
therefore one T'unit]
I wanted to go whitewater rafting in Costa Rica, but after I saw the
video about it I was scared, [two T-units]
No way! [a fragment (minor sentence); we might imagine this
punctuated sentence following a sentence like “Did I want to go
rafting during the rainy season?”]
Rhetoric Rhetoric is the art of using language effectively, to achieve the

speaker’s or writer’s purpose. Often, rhetoric is thought of as persuasive
in nature. While rhetoric is not a part of grammar or vice versa, the

two are related. As Christensen (1967) said, “Grammar maps out the
possible; rhetoric narrows the possible down to the desirable or effec¬
tive” (p. 39).
Run-on Two (or more) independent clauses with no connecting word or

punctuation between them. A run-on sentence is sometimes called a
fused sentence. Example: Rollie didn’t dare breathe he was still underwater.
Published writers avoid run-on sentences except for special effects, such
as when they want to portray a character’s thoughts as run-on and
perhaps chaotic.
Semantics, semantic Semantics refers to meaning, particularly to the

meanings within language. The term is often contrasted with syntax,
which refers to structure. See Syntax.
Sentence In this book, the term sentence usually refers to a grammatical

sentence. But when context seems likely to clarify, the term sentence
may be used to refer to something punctuated as a sentence, with a
beginning capital (uppercase) letter and an end mark of punctuation.
See Grammatical sentence, Punctuated sentence.
Subject A subject is one of the two obligatory parts of every clause, which
must have both a subject and a predicate. The predicate must at least
have a complete verb, which is said to show action or a state of being.
The subject tells who or what is doing the action or existing in the state
of being. Essentially the subject names who or what the clause is about.
Often, the easiest way to identify a subject is to locate the verb (or
verb phrase) and then ask who? or what? with respect to the verb, or
the verb plus the rest of the predicate. See the Appendix for two lessons
on subject-verb agreement. See also Verb.
The book on whitewater rafting in Costa Rica scared me. [The verb is
scared. What scared me? The book on whitewater rafting in Costa Rica,
which is the subject. Notice that the verb “agrees with” the first
noun, book—the noun that does not occur after a preposition. This
first noun is said to be the simple subject, the one with which the
verb should agree.]
Subordinate clause See Clause.
Subordinating conjunction A subordinating conjunction is a word that

introduces an adverb clause. Or to express it differently, when a subor-
G lossary of Grammatical Terms 257

dinating conjunction is put in front of an independent clause, it reduces
the clause to a subordinate (dependent) clause. Words that commonly
function as subordinating conjunctions include before, after, since; until,
when, while; though, although, even though; because, since; if, unless.
(Some of these words function as prepositions, too.) A more complete
list is given in the Appendix as Figure A.5.
The words barely had time to flit through my mind before the raft
capsized for a second time.
I wasn’t really scared until I actually drove to the Nantahala Outdoor
Center in North Carolina.
And she offered to show me a video on whitewatering in Costa
Colorado.
Syntax, syntactic Syntax refers to structure, particularly to the structure

or structures within language, or to the rules that describe such struc^
ture(s). Thus syntax is synonymous with certain meanings of grammar.
See also Grammar,
T-unit A Tmnit consists of one independent clause, plus the dependent

clause(s) or phrase(s) (if any) that are attached to it or embedded
within it. Tmnits are the smallest units into which a piece of writing
can be divided, grammatically speaking, without fragments of sentences
being left over. Hence the full name, minimum terminable unit. In this
book, the term grammatical sentence is synonymous with T-unit. The
concept of a Tmnit may be clarified by demonstrating how a paragraph
can be divided into T-units. Brackets are used to identify the T-units
in the following paragraph.
[I’m not sure I should ever have watched that video.][The most frightening
part was a long rapids on a river called the General.][I’ve repressed the
rapids’ exact name,][but it was something like “Hell’s Run.”][And believe
me, that’s what it looked like!][I watched horrified as a raft tackled the
rapid, only to be buried among the waves.] [Could the raft still be there
somewhere, invisible, as wave after wave crashed over it?][More to the
point, could the rafters still be in the raft?][All I could think of was how
would they ever get you back into the raft if you got thrown out?]
Verb Traditionally, a verb is said to show action or a state of being. All

verbs except the modal auxiliaries have four or five distinct forms: go,
goes, went, going, gone; watch, watches, watched, watching; has, have,

having, had. (The be verb has eight forms: be, am, is, are, was, were,
being, been.) A verb is the one essential part of the predicate of a clause.
Main verbs may stand alone or be preceded by one or more auxiliary
verbs:
laughs
is laughing
have laughed
must be laughing
has been laughing
Any group of words that functions like a verb (one or more auxiliaries plus
the main verb) can be called a verbal; however, it is more common to call
such a combination a verb phrase. A verb phrase is sometimes called a
simple predicate.
Different forms of the verb can perform nonverb functions in a sem
tence. For example, the infinitive—to plus the base form—can function as
a noun, adverb, or adjective, as in the following examples:
To quit would have been sensible, [works as a noun, the subject]

To rest, I lay in the raft instead of paddling, [adverbial, telling why I
lay in the raft]
The thing to do, I thought, was stop running rivers, [adjectival,
describing thing]
The -ing form of a verb can also function as a noun, in which case it
is called a gerund. The second of the preceding sentences contains the
gerund paddling, which functions as the object of the preposition of; the
third sentence contains the gerund phrase running rivers, which functions
as the object of stop.
When the 4ng form of the verb functions as an adjectival, it is said to
be a participle: a present participle. When the so-called past participle form
of the verb (the one we would use after the auxiliary has, have, or had)
functions as an adjectival, it is also a participle: a past participle. These
participles may function alone or as the head word in a phrase. In each of
the following examples, the participial word or phrase is functioning as an
adjectival, even though the participle itself is a verb in the underlying
structure.
There were 500 exciting miles of whitewater.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the flooding Paguare rose.

The paddle floating downstream was Rollie’s.
The authors talked about flash floods in the rainy season, describing
an incident when a film crew was making a commercial.
Our scheduled trip was for October, the rainy season.
Scheduled for October, our trip would surely occur during the rainy
season.
We went on a trip scheduled during the rainy season.

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Index
absolute Art of Teaching Writing, The, 150

defined, 243-44 assessment
importance of teaching concept, in constructivist learning model, 159
123 skills assessment, study on, 178
sample lessons, 189, 218-22 Atwell, Nancie, 150, 156-57, 171
acceptance, in constructivist learning authenticity, in constructivist learning
model, 160-61 model, 159-60
accountability, in constructivist learning auxiliary verbs
model, 159 defined, 246
“Acquiring Literacy in a Second skill acquisition in ordering, 34, 35-36
Language: The Effect of
Book-Based Programs,” 50 Barzun, Jacques, 74
adjective Base, Graeme, 188
defined, 244-45 Bears in the Night, 169, 190
importance of teaching concept, 122 behavioral psychology
incidental lessons for teaching, sample, basic principles of, 152-53
188-90 cognitive psychology compared to, 63,
adults’ role in children’s language 149, 162-63
acquisition, 40, 42, 56, 57 development of, 152
adverb learners’ errors, contrast between
defined, 245-46 behavioral and constructivist
importance of teaching concept, treatment of, 63
122 “Between the World and Me,” 215
sample lessons, 209-11 Black Boy, 225-26
Alexandrian tradition, 3 Black Snowman, The, 215
Alternate Style, An: Options in Bloomfield, Leonard, 29
Composition, 242 book flood programs, 50-51
“Aluminum,” 126 Bradbury, Ray, 226
“An Encounter,” 225 Braddock, Richard, 10
A nimalia, 188 brainstorming, 166-67, 169
“any,” skill acquisition in use of term, “Breaking the Rules in Style,” 242
34-36 Brinkley, Ellen, 225
apostrophe
errors in use of, 70, 71, 117 Calkins, Lucy
sample lessons, 236 learning of punctuation in third graders,
appositive study on, 176-77
defined, 246 mini-lessons, 150, 151, 156-57, 171
importance of teaching concept, “Celebrating the Student’s Voice,” 232
123 Chambers, Tracey, 217
approximation, 169 Chomsky, Noam, 30-31
“Arches and Vaults in the Ancient Near Christensen, Francis
East,” 226 constructions of published writers,
Aristotle, 3 research on, 75
277
Christensen, Francis (continued) model of, 157-62
generative rhetoric, 131-33 research
sentence combining, program for, 134 need for informal, 180
Christensen, Linda, 232 supporting, 174-79
clause teaching strategies for, 165-74
as basic grammatical concept, 117-18 transmission theory of learning
defined, 246-47 compared to, 149
sample lessons, 200-203, 205-7, whole language as constructivist
209-11, 239-41 learning and teaching, references
teaching concept of, 142 on, 163
clustering, 166-67 contextualization of skills, 160
cognitive psychology Cool Salsa: Bilingual Poems on Growing Up
as basis for constructivist learning Latino in the United States, 232
theory, 153-55 coordinating conjunction, defined, 248
behavioral psychology compared to, 149 copyeditor, technique of teacher as, 101
mini-lessons as reflection of, 156-57 correlative conjunction, defined, 249
principles of learning associated with, culture, errors and, 114, 115
153-55 cummings, e.e., 241
colon, sample lessons for teaching, 237-39 Curriculum Commission of the National
Color Purple, The, 232 Council of Teachers of English,
commas position on formal teaching of
basic grammatical concepts and, 116-17 grammar, 9, 10
errors in use of, 70-71
comma splices Daily Oral Language program, 172, 173,
as basic grammatical concept, 116 180
defined, 122, 247 Dark, Dark Tale, A, 190
effective use of, 76, 77, 204-5 deep structure, 30-33
perception of, 111, 114 defined, 32-33
sample lessons, 203-5 syntactic maturity and, 129
comprehensible input, 49 definition of grammar, 1-2
Comprehension and Learning: A Conceptual demonstrations
Framework for Teachers, 153 in constructivist learning model, 157-58
conjunction parts of speech instruction using, 168
beginning sentence with a, 76 dependent clauses
defined, 247 as basic grammatical concept, 116
sample lessons, 209-11 defined, 120
conjunctive adverb illustrations of, 118-20
defined, 248 sample lessons, 201-3
sample lessons for, 209-11 dialects
constructed spelling, 62 exploring, 145
construction, defined, 248 references
constructivist learning theory Language of Wider Communication
basic principles of learning, 153-55 versus dialects, 229
and behavioralism compared, 63, 149, representing various dialects, 233
162-63 sample lessons, 227-36
development of, 153 study of, as alternative to grammar
learners’ errors, contrast between instruction, 27
constructivist and behavioral teaching power of dialects and dialects
treatment of, 63 of power, 143
mini-lessons as reflection of, 156-57 Dickens, Charles, 204
278 INDEX
Dionysios of Thrace, 3 living with, in final draft, 97
direct methods of instruction, 175-76 more sophisticated, replacing less
Donatus, 3 sophisticated, 72-74
“Don’t No Revolutions Hardly Ever Come as necessary for growth, 59-62, 63
By Here,” 234-35 as necessary result of instruction, 69-72
Dove, Rita, 228 overreacting to, 81-82
drawings of children, errors in, 60-62 as part of learning, 62, 64-69
proofreading, teaching, 87-100
Early Eanguage, 45 in published writing, treatment of, 74-75
editing ranking of errors, research concerning,
copyedited manuscript, sample, 92 105-15
of final revision, teaching, 87-101 rate of, analyzing, 72-74
living with errors in final draft, 97 reconsidering what counts as error,
peer editing/proofreading, use of, 95, 96, 74-75, 104-15
97 responding to, constructively, 81-82
resources useful for, developing, 88, 91 selected errors in final draft, responding
sample lessons for teaching concepts only to, 97, 100
used in, 190-213 spelling, as part of learning, 62, 64-69
selected errors in final draft, responding stylistic effectiveness in writing, error
only to, 97, 100 analysis and, 75-82
teacher as copyeditor, technique of, 100 Errors and Expectations, 70, 140
teacher comments during editing “Errorwocky,” 100
process, 94, 96 Erskine, John, 131
teachers helping students edit/proof own examples, used as alternative to grammar
writing, 84-85 instruction, 26
teaching concepts for, 142 expectation, 169
Editorial Skills course, effects of, 22-23 “Explaining Grammatical Concepts,” 148
Elgin, Suzette, 234 explanations, in constructivist learning
Elley, Warwick, 20-21, 50-52 model, 158-59
Ellison, Ralph, 214, 221 extended miniTessons, 171
empowerment, in constructivist learning
model, 159, 161 “Fight over Liquid Gold, A,” 215
Encyclopedia of Educational Research, 9-10, first language acquisition. See also language
152 acquisition
English as second language. See also process of, 56-57
second language acquisition “Fluency Before Correctness: A Whole
review of research on, 50-55 Language Experiment in College
“English Teacher, Why You Be Doing the ESL,” 52
Thangs You Don’t Do?,” 234-35 “Fluency First: Reversing the Traditional
errors ESL Sequence,” 52
behavioral and constructivist formal grammar instruction
approaches to, contrast between, 63 alternatives to, 26-28
in children’s drawings, analyzing, 60-62 based on behaviorist learning theory,
culture, errors as products of, 114, 115 148, 152-53
effects of varied emphasis on, in ESL learning theory basis for, 148, 152-53
college instruction, 53, 54 reasons for, 7-9, 23-25
in final drafts, 87-100 reconceptualizing grammar instruction.
frequency of different types of, 117 (see reconceptualizing grammar
handbooks prohibitions and stylistic instruction)
effectiveness, 75-82 references for and against, 8
Index 279
formal grammar instruction (continued) Grammar and the Teaching of Writing, 104
research studies, 9-16, 16-20, 20-21, Grammar for Teachers, 82
22-23, 26 “grammar” schools, 4
transference to students’ writing, 27-28, grammatical competence
102-4 acquisition of, 38
transmission model of education and, adult utterances and, 40, 42, 56
148-50 increased representation of surface
fragments structure, 40-43
as basic grammatical concept, 116 initial stages of, 39-40
defined, 122, 249 in kindergarteners, 43-45
judicious use of, 76-77, 78-81 in language acquisition process, 56
sample lessons, 201-9 miscue patterns in development of,
Francis, W. Nelson, 30 45-48
free modifiers, 116 in second language acquisition, 48-50
defined, 121, 249-51 grammatical sentence
examples of writing using, 132-33 defined, 120-21, 251
illustration of, 118-20 illustration of, 118
sample lessons, 217, 222-23 punctuated sentence and, 32
Frogner, Ellen, 174 “Graveyard, The,” 118-20
functional grammar, 14 Gray, Paul, 215
functional linguistics, 146 “Great Wall of China, The,” 227
function words, grammatical competence Greece, grammar instruction and ancient,
and, 42 3, 6
fused sentences Greene, H.A., 152
basic grammatical concepts and, 116
defined, 121-22 Hacker, Diana, 185
sample lessons, 207-9 Harris, Roland, 175-76
Heller, Ruth, 189
generative rhetoric, 131-33 Hemingway, Ernest, 226
Gordon, Michael, 223 Hillocks, George, 11, 13-14
grammar. See also syntax historical overview of grammar
basic grammatical concepts that need to instruction, 3-6
be understood, 115-23 Holy Bible (Black English Vernacular
competence with, (see grammatical Translation), 233-34
competence) Hunt, Kellogg
defined, 1-2, 251 minimum terminable unit research, 32
formal teaching of. (see formal grammar syntactic maturity research, 12, 123-31
instruction) Hunter, Madeline, 151, 152
historical overview of grammar
instruction, 3-6 “I am” poems, writing, 216-17
reconceptualizing grammar instruction, “if’ clause, sample lesson for teaching
(see reconceptualizing grammar hypothetical, 190
instruction) If the Dinosaurs Came Back, 190
sample lessons for teaching, 187-242 Immediate Constituent Analysis (ICA), 30
scope and sequence in the teaching of, immersion, 168
138-47 Inada, Lawson, 230-31, 232
senses of, 2 incidental lessons, 166-69, 188-90
teaching of. (see formal grammar independent clauses
instruction; teaching grammar) as basic grammatical concept, 115-16
280 INDEX
defined, 120 Later Language Development, Ages Nine
illustrations of, 118-20 Through Nineteen, 124
punctuation for, 212 Latin, traditional grammar instruction
sample lessons, 200-203 and, 4-5
inductive lessons, 170 Law of Effect, 152
Input Hypothesis, The, 50, 225 Law of Exercise, 152
Institutes of Oratory, 4 Law of Identical Elements, 152
Instructional Theory into Practice (ITIP) Law of Readiness, 152
compared to mini-dessons technique, laws of learning, 152-53
156-57 learning theory
theoretical basis for, 151, 152 behavioral psychology and. (see
interjection, defined, 251 behavioral psychology)
In the Middle: Writing, Reading and cognitive psychology and. (see cognitive
Learning with Adolescents, 150 psychology)
invented spelling, 62 comparison of constructivist and
Invisible Man, 214, 221 behavioral theories, 63, 149,
invitations, in constructivist learning 162-63
model, 159 constructivist. (see constructivist
Island, The, 191 learning theory)
formal grammar instruction, basis for,
Joyce, James, 225 148, 152-53
transmission model. (see transmission
Kafka, Franz, 227 model of education)
kernal structures, 31-32 “Leaves in the Fall,” 217
kidwatchers, 151 “Leda and the Swan,” 221
Kiel, Jane, 59 lessons, constructivist
kindergarteners, grammatical competence extended mini-lessons, 171
m, 43-45 incidental, 166-69
Kolln, Martha, 14-16 inductive, 170
Krashen, Stephen, 48-50, 56, 225 mini-lessons, 171-72
Let’s Learn English, 20
Language, 29 Linguistics: A Revolution in Teaching, 170,
language acquisition, 48-50 227
adult utterances and, 40, 42, 56 literature
early sentences, formation of, 39-40 examination of, as alternative to
increased representation of surface grammar instruction, 26-27
structure, 40-43 immersing students in, 144
in kindergarteners, 43-45 Living Between the Lines, 87
miscue patterns in, 45-48 Lloyd-Jones, Richard, 10
process of, 49-50, 56-57 low affective filter, 49-50
“Language and Mind,” 31
language competence, 30 Macauley, W.J., 16-20
language learning, 48-49 MacGowan-Gilhooly, Adele, 52-54
language monitor, 50 main clause
Language of Wider Communication, 111, defined, 120
198 illustrations of, 118-20
contrasted to other dialects, 145 Martian Chronicles, The, 226
dialects versus, references on, Master, Doris, 164
229 McCaig, Roger, 69-70
Index 281
McQuade, F., 22-23 incidental lessons for teaching, sample,
meaning units (M-units), 39 188- 90
mechanics, teaching, 144
Meckel, Henry C., 15-16 O’Hare, Frank, 12
Mellon, John, 12, 72 “On Top of Mount Fuji, People Hope for
Mendez, Phil, 215 Change,” 215
Minehart, Tom, 215 options, in constructivist learning model,
minnconferences, teaching 159
editing/proofreading during, 87,
93 parents, pressure to teach formal grammar
minidessons and, 25
as basis for effective teaching of “Parsley,” 228
grammatical concepts, 150-51, Parsons, Joel, 217
171 participial phrases
characteristics of effective, 150-51 errors in use of, 71-72
commercially produced, 172 importance of teaching concept, 123
description of, 171 sample lessons, 189, 214-20
sample, 185-242 participle, defined, 253-54
technique compared to ITIP procedures, parts of speech
156-57 defined, 254
minor sentence, defined, 252 lessons for, 168-69, 188-90
miscue past tense of verbs, skill acquisition in
defined, 45 forming, 36, 37-38
patterns, and grammar acquisition, PAT Reading Comprehension and Reading
45-48 Vocabulary Tests, 20
modeling the editing/proofreading process, Paulsen, Gary, 191
87, 93 phrase
modifier, defined, 121, 252 defined, 121, 254
monitor, language, 50 teaching concept of, 142
Moon Lady, The, 214 possessives
Most, Bernard, 190 errors concerning, 70, 71, 117
motivation, in constructivist learning sample lessons, 236
model, 158, 159, 161 Power of Reading, The, 56, 225
M-unit, defined, 252 predicate, defined, 255
“My Brothers,” 192 preposition, defined, 255
prepositional phrase, sample lessons,
National Assessment of Educational 189- 90, 199-200
Progress, 73 Priestley, J.B., 225
negative sentences, skill acquisition in Priscian, 3
constructing, 37-38 pronoun, defined, 255-56
New Zealand, research on grammar proofreading. See editing
instruction in, 20-21 propositions, 31, 33
Noguchi, Rei, 104-5, 228 combining, in children, 42
nonrestrictive clauses, sample lessons, syntactic maturity and, 129-30
239-42 published writing
Notes Toward a New Rhetoric, 75 helping students use same process as
noun published writers, 82-86
defined, 252-53 stylistic effectiveness in, analysis of,
importance of teaching concept, 75-82
122 punctuated sentence, defined, 32, 256
282 INDEX
punctuation English as second language, review of,
“dos and dont’s,” 212-13 50-56
sample lessons, 211-13, 236-42 errors
teaching, 144 professional people, Hairston study of
errors and, 105, 108-15
Quintilian, 4 students’ errors, Connors and
quotation marks, sample lesson on, Lunsford study of, 105, 106-8, 111,
164-65 115
on formal grammar instruction, 9-16,
“Rayford’s Song,” 230-31, 232 16-20, 20-21, 22-23, 26
Reading Mastery: DI STAR and DI STAR on structural linguistics, 11
Language, 162 on transformational grammar, 11-14
Reading Process and Practice, 225 Research in Written Composition, 10
reading workshops, references for response, 169
instituting, 86 responsibility, 169
reconceptualizing grammar instruction rhetoric
basic grammatical concepts that need to defined, 256-57
be understood, 115-23 generative rhetoric, 131-33
focus, narrowing the, 104-23 stylistic effectiveness in writing, analysis
promoting growth in syntactic of, 75-82
complexity, 134-37 Rhetorical Grammar, 16
ranking of errors, research into, 105-15 Rice, Scott, 185, 221, 227
suggestions on how to, 181-83 Right Handbook, The: Grammar and Usage
terminology, limiting the, 104-23 in Context, 185
reductionist learning theory. See also Right Words, Right Places, 185, 221, 227
transmission model of education Romano, Tom, 242
constructivist learning theory compared Rosie’s Walk, 169, 190
to, 149, 162-63 run-on sentences
Reeves, Pat, 217 basic grammatical concepts and,
references 116
dialects defined, 121-22, 257
on dialects versus Language of Wider sample lessons, 203-4
Communication, 229 Rutsala, Vern, 232
representing various dialects, 233
on early development of spelling and Safire, William, 74
writing, 70 scaffolding, 160
grammar as style, for teaching, 80 Schoer, Lowell, 10
grammar texts and reference books, scope and sequence in the teaching of
89-91 grammar, 138-47
on sentence combining and sentence Scotland, research on grammar instruction
generating, 135 in, 16-20
teaching formal grammar, references for second language acquisition
and against, 8 knowledge of grammar and, 9, 51-52
on whole language as constructivist process of, 48-50, 57
learning, 163 research on, 50-55, 57
writers’ and readers’ workshops, semantics, defined, 257
references for instituting, 86 senses of grammar, 2
research sentence combining
constructivist learning theory, in sample lessons for teaching style
support of, 174-79 through, 214-22
Index 283
sentence combining (continued) defined, 120
syntactic complexity, promoting growth illustrations of, 118-20
in, 134-37 subordinating conjunction, defined,
teaching style through, 142 257-58
sentence fragments. See fragments Sun Also Rises, The, 226
sentence generating support for learners, in constructivist
sample lessons for teaching style learning model, 160, 161
through, 214-22 surface structure, 30-33
syntactic complexity, promoting growth defined, 32
in, 134-37 increasing representation of, by
teaching style through, 142 children, 40-43
sentences syntactic maturity and, 129
children’s formation of, 39-40, 42 Syntactic Structures, 30
defined, 257 syntax. See also grammar
sample lessons, 203-9, 222-27 adult writers’ constructions, 127
teaching concept of, 142 defined, 1, 258
Shared Book Experience, 50, 51 growth in syntactic complexity,
Shaughnessy, Mina, 70, 140 promoting, 134-37
Short, Pat, 183 manipulation of syntactic elements,
Simple and Direct, 74 teaching sentence sense and style
Sioux, Teton, 215 through, 143
Smith, Frank, 153 students’ constructions
Smith, Michael W., 11 in kindergarten, 43-45
Smitherman, Geneva, 234 in grade 4, 125-26
“some,” skill acquisition in use of term, in grade 7, 128-29
34-36 in grade 8, 126-27
spelling in grade 12, 127
errors as part of learning, 62, 64-69 syntactic complexity, 130
references on early development of, 70 syntactic development, 127-31, 136-37
SRA publishing company, Direct syntactic maturity, research on, 123—31
Instruction materials from, 162
status marking errors, 110-12 Tale of Two Cities, A, 204
Strickland, Dorothy, 168 Tan, Amy, 214
structural linguistics, 146 teacher-researcher, becoming a, 146
development of, 29-30 teaching grammar
formal grammar instruction and, 11 basic grammatical concepts that need to
style, teaching be understood, 115-23
by manipulation of syntactic elements, constructivist teaching strategies, 165—74
143 formal teaching of. (see formal grammar
through sentence combining and instruction)
sentence generating, 142 guidelines for, 141-47, 181-83
subject historical overview of grammar
defined, 257 instruction, 3-6
teaching concept of, 142, 190-200 reconceptualizing grammar instruction.
subject-verb agreement {see reconceptualizing grammar
as basic grammatical concept, 115-16 instruction)
lack of, 111 research supporting constructivist
sample lessons for teaching concept of, approach to, 174-78
198-200 sample lessons for, 187-242
subordinate clause scope and sequence for, 138-47
284 INDEX
traditional teaching of grammar. (see verbs
formal grammar instruction) auxiliary, skill acquisition in ordering,
via mini-lessons. (see mini-lessons) 34,35-36
whole language as constructivist defined, 258-60
learning and teaching, references importance of teaching concept, 122
on, 163 past tense, skill acquistion in forming,
teaching strategies, constructivist, 165-74 36,37-38
terminology, narrowing the, 104-23, 144, sample lessons, 188-90, 190-200
145 teaching concept of, 142
texts
examination of, as alternative to Walker, Alice, 232
grammar instruction, 27 Warriner’s English Grammar and
historical perspective, 3-6 Composition series, 2
Thorndike, Edward, 152 Warriner’s High School Handbook, 2
To Think, 153 Weathers, Winston, 242
traditional teaching of grammar. See Weaver, Constance, 82, 100, 217, 225
formal grammar instruction whole language education as constructivist
transactional model of education learning, references on, 163
constructivism as basis for, 148, Williams, Joseph, 74-75
153-55 word endings, grammatical competence
transmission model of education and, 42
compared to, 149 word order, grammatical competence and,
transductional learning theory. See also 42
constructivist learning theory “Words,” 232
transmission learning theory compared words, sample lesson for teaching
to, 149 meaningful parts of, 187-88
transformational grammar workshops
development of, 30-32 editing, 93
in Elley, et. al. study, 20-21 for writers, 83, 84, 86
sample lessons, 224-27 Wright, Richard, 215, 227
value of studying grammar through, Writer’s Reference, A, 185
11-14 writers’ workshops, 83, 84, 86
transformational linguistics, 146 writing
development of, 30-32 editing, (see editing)
transmission model of education engaging students in writing across
as basis for formal grammar instruction, curriculum, importance of, 141, 144
148 errors, (see errors)
behavioralism as basis for, 148, 152-53 final drafts, editing, 87-100
constructivist model contrasted with handbook rules and stylistic
the, 149 effectiveness, comparing, 75-81
transactional model of education mini-lessons as basis for teaching, (see
compared to, 149 mini-lessons)
transparencies, teachers’ use of, 185 process of published writers, helping
Trees Stand Shining, The, 215 students use, 82-86
trivium, 3 proofreading, (see editing)
Trujillo, Rafael, 228 published
T-unit students use same process as
defined, 32, 120-21, 124, 258 published writers, helping, 82-86
illustration of, 118 stylistic effectivenes in, analysis of,
in syntactic maturity, 124-25, 129 75-81
Index 285
writing (continued) model of the, 83
references on early development of, 70 reconceptualizing the, 82-86
sample lessons for, 187-242 students using same process as published
samples, assessment using, 177-78 writers, value of, 82-86
spelling errors as part of, 62, 64-69 Writing Process, The, 219
students,’ formal grammar instruction “Wrong Ism,” 225
and, 27-28, 102-4
and syntax. (see syntax) Yeats, W.B., 221
writing process
making adequate time for, 87 zone of proximal development, 160
286 INDEX
The author and publisher thank those who granted permission to reprint borrowed material:
Excerpt from “The Role of Grammar in a Secondary English Curriculum” by W. B. Elley, I.

H. Barham, H. Lamb, and M. Wyllie. From New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies 10,
May 1975. Reprinted by permission of the New Zealand Council for Educational Research.
Excerpt from “Fluency First: Reversing the Traditional ESL Sequence” by Adele MacGowam
Gilhooly. From Journal of Basic Writing 10(1), Spring 1991. Reprinted by permission of the
City University of New York, Instructional Resource Center.
Excerpts from Huggles Goes A way (© 1986), The Bicycle (© 1983), and Ratty-Tatty (© 1987)
by J. Cowley; Mom’s Haircut (© 1988) by C. Semple and J. Tuer; and Look (© 1988) by J.
Cutting. Published by The Wright Group, Bothell, Washington. Reprinted by permission of
The Wright Group.
Excerpt from Clifford Takes a Trip by Norman Bridwell. Copyright © 1966 by Norman
Bridwell. Reprinted by permission of Scholastic Inc. Clifford and Clifford the Big Red Dog are
registered trademarks of Norman Bridwell.
Figure 4.3 from “Error and Analysis and the Teaching of Composition” by Barry M. Kroll
and John C. Schafer. From College Composition and Communication 29, 1978. Reprinted by
permission of the National Council of Teachers of English.
Figure 4.5a from “Beginning Reading and Writing Through Singing: A Natural Approach”
by Sheila Fitzgerald in Highway One 7(ii), Spring 1984. Reprinted by permission of the
author and the Canadian Council of Teachers of English.
Figure 4.5b from Reading, Writing and Caring by Cochrane, Cochrane, Scalena, and Bucha-
nan. Copyright 1984- Reprinted by permission.
Figure 4.10 from “A Few Good Words for the Comma Splice” by Irene Brosnahan. From
College English 38, 1976. Reprinted by permission of the National Council of Teachers of
English.
Figure 4.11 from “Formal Fragments: The English Minor Sentence” by C. R. Kline and W.
D. Memering. From Research in the Teaching of English 11, 1977. Reprinted by permission of
the National Council of Teachers of English.
Figure 4.16 from “Helping Children Become More Responsible for Their Own Writing” by
Mary Ellen Giacobbe. From LiveWire 1 (i), 1984. Reprinted by permission of the National
Excerpts and Figure 5.1 from “Frequency of Formal Errors in Current College Writing, or
Ma and Pa Kettle Do Research” by Robert Connors and Andrea Lunsford. From College
Composition and Communication 39, 1988. Reprinted by permission of the National Council
of Teachers of English.
Figures 5.2 and 5.3 from “Not All Errors Are Created Equal: Nonacademic Readers in the
Professions Respond to Lapses of Usage” by Maxine Hairston. From College English 43, 1981.
Reprinted by permission of the National Council of Teachers of English.
Figure 5.6 from “Syntactic Maturity in Schoolchildren and Adults” by Kellogg Hunt. From
Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development (134), 1970. Reprinted by
permission of the Society for Research in Child Development.
287
Excerpt from “Build a Skill, Step by Step” by Doris Master. From Classroom Practices in
Teaching English, 1977-1978: Teaching the Basics—Really!, edited by O. Clapp. Copyright ©
1977. Reprinted by permission of the National Council of Teachers of English.
Excerpt from “Between the World and Me” by Richard Wright. Copyright © 1935 by
Richard Wright. Reprinted by permission of John Hawkins & Associates, Inc.
Excerpt from “Leda and the Swan” by W. B. Yeats. From The Poems of W. B. Yeats: A Nevu
Edition, edited by Richard J. Finneran. Copyright 1928 by Macmillan Publishing Company,
renewed 1956 by Georgie Yeats. Reprinted with the permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
“Rayford’s Song” by Lawson Fusao Inada. From Legends from Camp by Lawson Fusao Inada.
Copyright 1993. Reprinted by permission of Coffee House Press.
Figure A.l from “Explaining Grammatical Concepts” by Muriel Harris and Katherine E.
Rowan. From Journal of Basic Writing 8(2), Fall 1991. Reprinted by permission of The City
University of New York, Instructional Resource Center.
288
.
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More than fifteen years ago, Constance Weaver s Grammar for Teachers (NCTE,
1979) broke new ground by responding to widespread concern about the place
of grammar in the curriculum. Suggesting that teachers need to know key
“Weaver shows aspects of grammar in order to teach writing more effectively, Weaver also
argued that students need to be guided in learmng and applying grammatical
her growth as a teacher
concepts as they revise and edit their writing. Attention to sentence structure
and researcher by and mechanics during the process of writing would result in better products.
With Teaching Grammar in Context, Weaver extends her philosophy by
bringing new insight and
offering teachers a rationale and practical ideas for teaching grammar not m
applications to her beliefs. isolation but in the context of writing. She begins by introducing some com¬
mon meanings of “grammar” and provides a historical overview of traditional
A good book for all reasons for teaching grammar as a school subject. After examining those rea¬
teachers who have their sons, she questions them, citing decades of research that suggests that grammar
taught in isolation has little, if any, effect on most students’ writing.
students write.” To lay the groundwork for a more effective approach, Weaver considers
how preschoolers learn the basic structures of their native language and how
■Writing Teacher second-language grammar is acquired. She goes on to suggest a research-based
perspective on the concept of error and on the writing “errors” our students
make. Equally useful is Weaver’s examination of the aspects of grammar on
which we might focus as we guide our students in writing and revising sen¬
tences and in editing selected pieces. Her final chapter addresses the teaching of
grammar from the perspective of learning theory.
Teaching Grammar in Context fills a long-standing gap in the literature
on teaching writing. It will prove invaluable to all practicing and preservice
teachers, especially those at the middle and high school levels, where gram¬
mar is taught most intensively.
Constance Weaver is a professor of English at Western Michigan

University, where she teaches courses in the reading and writing processes
and a whole language approach to literacy and learning. She has served as
Director of the Commission on Reading of the National Council of Teachers
of English. In addition to Grammar for Teachers (NCTE, 1979), her major
publications include five books from Heinemann: Reading Process and Practice:
From Socio-Psycholinguistics to Whole Language, Second Edition (1994); Success
at Last! Helping Students with AD(H)D Achieve Their Potential (edited, 1994);
Theme Exploration: A Voyage of Discovery (coauthored with Joel Chaston and
Scott Peterson and copublished with Scholastic Canada, 1993); Supporting
Whole Language: Stories of Teacher and Institutional Change (coedited with Linda
Henke, 1992); and Understanding Whole Language: From Principles to Practice
(with chapters by Diane Stephens and Janet Vance, 1990).
I SBN 0 - 86 709-3 7 5 -7
Boynton/Cook 00 00 >
HEINEMANN
PORTSMOUTH, NH
9 780867 93759

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What is the purpose of the book?

What is the purpose of the book?

What perspectives on grammar and language acquisition does the author discuss?

What perspectives on grammar and language acquisition does the author discuss?

nmm&mm

Copyright © 1996 by Constance Weaver. All rights reserved. No part of this

Acknowledgments for borrowed material begin on page 287.

Library of Congress Cataloging-imPublication Data

Editor: Scott Mahler

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

Chapter 1 Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar: An Introduction . 1

Chapter 2 Teaching Grammar: Reasons for, Evidence Against . 7

Chapter 3 Acquiring Grammatical Competence . . 29

Chapter 4 Toward a Perspective on Error.58

Chapter 5 Reconceptualizing the Teaching of Grammar.102

Chapter 6 Learning Theory and the Teaching of Grammar . . . . 148

Afterword: Conclusion and a New Beginning.181

Appendix: Sample Lessons on Selected Aspects of Grammar.185

References . ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ <.261

Index ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ .277

2.1 References for and against the teaching of formal grammar.

At the outset it seems sensible to consider various meanings attached to

The Meanings of Grammar

• Parts of speech (elements or categories)

• Grammar as a description of syntactic structure

Chapter 2 introduces some of the reasons commonly given for direct

2 THE MEANINGS OF GRAMMAR

During previous centuries, traditional school grammar seems to have had

Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar 3

4 TRADITIONAL SCHOOL GRAMMAR IN A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

Grammar and the Teaching of Grammar 5

[Samuel] Greene’s [1874] intricate sentence analysis had been meant as a

By the end of the nineteenth century, grammar came to be considered a

6 TRADITIONAL SCHOOL GRAMMAR IN A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

Why Teach Grammar?

1. The study of grammar is important simply because language is a

deBeaugrande, R. (1984). Forward to the basics: Getting down to grammar.

4- The study of grammar will help students score better on standardized

8 WHY TEACH GRAMMAR?

Early Research Summaries

As long ago as 1936, the Curriculum Commission of the National Council

1. “The disciplinary value which may be attributed to formal grammar is

In view of the widespread agreement of research studies based upon many

This bold statement seemed only a logical extension of DeBoer’s conclusion

10 EARLY RESEARCH SUMMARIES

RESEARCH ON THE EFFECTS OF STRUCTURAL AND TRANSFORMATIONAL GRAMMAR

These [sentence-combining] studies have led to a number of sentence

In their summaries of research on the teaching of grammar, Hillocks

A Note on Functional Grammar

In Australia especially, the functional grammar of British linguists Halliday

• It is primarily concerned with how the language works to achieve

In light of this overwhelming body of evidence, it may seem surprising that

14 A NOTE ON FUNCTIONAL GRAMMAR

1. There is no research evidence that grammar as traditionally taught in

Three Studies in Detail

The Study by Macauley (1947)

16 THREE STUDIES IN DETAIL

In short, the teaching of grammar in the elementary grades emphasizes parts

INSTRUCTIONS: Here are fifty sentences. In each sentence, there is a word

18 THREE STUDIES IN DETAIL