Get a new doorman: Transitions and Transition Statements

On the Organization Overview page, when I listed transitions I stated it is “an issue with which I have mixed feelings.” This is because I understand and hope to teach that transitions are an essential part of writing. However, in my experience, transitions aren't what gets taught; it's transition statements. These are two very different concepts.

I tutored a student once who claimed to have a problem with those quaint little statements that sit at the end of paragraphs like doormen prepared to mark the move from one locale to another. The student recognized the need for cohesion in his writing, for that elusive “flow.” After a few minutes looking at his essay, it became clear that he understood his topic, was articulate, and had a firm grasp on the issue he was writing about. It’s just the doormen closing each paragraph were locking the door rather than opening it. Each transition was painfully abrupt, stalled the writing, and made every paragraph feel like an introduction rather than a continuation. It was bizarre that a good writer like this would have such a unique and individualized problem.

I proposed an experiment: we read through the second to last sentence of every paragraph and the first sentence of the next paragraph. We skipped the transitions. it worked beautifully. The essay was improved ten times at least.

The problem wasn't that he had bad transitions, it was that he had forced transition statements. He explained he had been taught to use token transition statements, and while that's fine for beginning writers, it ends up doing more harm than good for mature writers.

The red line is a tangent.

I see transition statements as a device to force otherwise tangential pieces into an essay. Pardon the geometry, but a tangent is a line that intersects with a circle at only one point. So, in writing, a tangent is when the essay suddenly starts talking about something that is related but irrelevant to the piece as a whole. It's a portion that just doesn't fit with the rest of the piece. “Transition statements” make it easy to go into a tangent and then force it back on track. It's a bad practice.

Therefore, forced transition statements (or weak transitions) are a symptom of two interrelated issues: the first is poor organization. The second is a weak thesis.

The thesis is the main point or argument and organization is how that point is delivered and presented. A well organized essay will flow from paragraph to paragraph, i.e. from topic to topic. A well organized essay will designate each paragraph with a specific topic directly related to the thesis. Anything related to a different topic goes in a different paragraph. Paragraphs that deal with similar information go before or after one another. And, here's where transitions come in: paragraphs with related topics will transition easier into one another. Strong transitions should be a natural by-product of adhering to the thesis and careful organization.

Transitions bring topics together much more than they bring paragraphs together, and a statement alone isn't enough to do it. It's more a matter of how the essay as a whole develops ideas as it progresses from introduction to conclusion: each paragraph should prepare the reader for the paragraph that follows it.

Unfortunately for me, this makes transitions a much harder topic to briefly address. There isn’t a set list of acceptable sentence structures and forms that can be interchangeably used to solve a problem. Good transitions show strong writing, strong organization, and a strong understanding of the subject matter: you haven’t put an arbitrary doorman down who may or may not do his job properly. You want a doorman who knows the building, the people, the clientele, and the situation. Someone who will let people know that all is well and you are welcome in the building.

What makes it Argumentative? An Overview

I want to start this post off by saying the words argument and persuasion have very close definitions, but can be interpreted quite differently. I try to avoid any confusion by using them interchangeably. My interest here, however, is not to draw distinctions between being argumentative and persuasive, but between being argumentative and informative.

Most of us are familiar with informative writing. We encounter it all the time in textbooks, news sources, blogs, documentaries, etc. This causes problems when students need to move to argumentative writing.

I’ve had students insist they will argue by merely being informative. I take this to mean they haven’t caught on to the issues regarding argumentation I’ve covered in class. The distinction is as follows:

Informative writing just gives information: facts, details, observations, research, etc.

Argumentation makes recommendations and proposals about what to do with that information.

To further describe the difference between informative and argumentative is to use the Stasis Model, which is a kind of hierarchy of argumentation. Each aspect must be addressed, or at least clear, before moving to the next:

• Fact: Determining whether or not something exists, did or did not happen, could or could not happen, etc. This is generally a yes or no question. Sometimes called “Conjecture.”
• Definition: Describing characteristics and attributes of the Facts.
• Value: Determining the quality or severity of the issue or topic – if what has been defined is good or bad, better or worse, etc. Sometimes called “Quality.”
• Policy: Proposing active change based on the discussion of the Values: if a better option exists and its implementation is feasible, then recommendations how to pursue it should be made.

Argumentation address all of these: Facts are considered, defined, and weighted against actual and hypothetical situations, culminating in the proposed change. 

Informative writing stops anywhere before Policy: a proposal isn't made, a plan of action isn't discussed, plans aren't made for improvement.

While the Stasis Model is the first step in differentiating between informative and argumentative writing, argumentative writing also necessitates a number of considerations:

• Take a stance: Perhaps the most important. Being argumentative requires a clear stance on the issue.
• Rhetorical Situation: Aristotle broke rhetoric down into a number of different aspects. These are, primarily:
• Ethos: Author's authority; how does the author demonstrate their credibility.
• Pathos: Audience awareness; how is the piece written for its audience.
• Logos: Logic; the structure and coherence of the argument itself.
• Audience Specificity: Not exactly the same as pathos. Audience is always important. In Argumentation it is very important. Argumentative writing necessitates writing not just for an audience, but an audience, people, persons, or groups, that can enact the recommended change.
• Opposing viewpoints: Others will recommend different policies, interpret the research or situation differently, or think nothing needs changing. Acknowledging opposing viewpoints and countering them can strengthen arguments.
• Advocating active change: By “active” I mean it should be more than just “people need to know.” Knowing something is being informative. Argumentation entails making recommendations about the action that specific (see “Audience Awareness” above) people need to do. Best case scenario, if the proposal were accepted, there should be observable, measurable changes.

These may still be present in informative writing, but sometimes informative writing just weighs the sides of an issue without taking a stance or proposing a change. Just as the Stasis Model becomes more and more argumentative as it goes from Facts to Policy, informative essays may adopt some aspects of argumentation. There isn't anything wrong with that. The important thing is an argumentative essay does significantly more, regarding audience, opposition, and proposing than an informative piece.

Argumentation: Write for a specific, powerful audience

Once, in a persuasive writing class, I had students write down their intended audience. Then I had them write down their proposals for their essays. Then, I had them put the word “should” between the two:

[Intended Audience] should [Proposal]

It was an eye opening experience as many of my students looked at the sentences they had written and realized the people they were writing for were not in positions to make the changes they were arguing. They quickly realized they needed to either change their proposal to fit their audience or change their audience to fit their proposal.

Picking an audience varies from genre to genre and purpose to purpose. Unfortunately, students frequently default to “parents,” “teachers,” and (this one makes me want to break things) anything that starts with “people who...” The problem with these audiences is it’s difficult, if not impossible, to address them as a whole because there will be so many different groups within the larger body. Writing for them can mean relying on logical fallacies and broad assumptions that reflect your own bias more than your understanding of the demographic you're trying to write to.

On the other hand, a specific audience (one that has a formal name, whether it's an individual or an organizational body) is a far better option.

This leads to the next important aspect of picking your audience: what power or authority do they have? For example, if you think the local high schools should change from a semester to a trimester system. Writing to the teachers would be a bad idea because they're too far down the administrative hierarchy to make the decision. The administrators may value their input, but the teachers won't be making the decision. So, the next step is to go up the hierarchy to the powers-that-be.

The next two options are either the principal or school district personnel. Unfortunately, principals won't be able to make the change themselves, but they are closer to those who make the decisions and are in a valued position to give feedback.

Therefore, if writing to principals, you'll be arguing they should go to the district and convince them – but you'll have to convince the principals first.

Information like research, pedagogy, interviews, and surveys of the student body and faculty will be useful. However, where the principals will be more invested in the teachers and students, and would have to deal with scheduling on a regular basis, the administrators at the district will be more concerned with policy, legislation, and the public reception of the change. Two different audiences, two different sets of interests and capabilities.

Different information, appeals, and research will be needed in each situation; there will be some overlay, but not enough to simply cross off one set of names or titles and replace them with another. Every audience is going to have different concerns, regulations, and authorities, and an argumentative piece or any piece of writing must be written to a specific audience’s interest and ability.

What "Page Count" Means

You might want to read “Why the Page Count?” before taking a look at this post.

Beware! Math logic below.

As both an instructor and student, I frequently hear some variation of “What constitutes three (or five or ten or however many) pages?” The answer has always been the same: Fill the last page, and the works cited page does not count.

On the one hand, clarification is important. After all, if assigned a five page essay and you have a dozen words on the fourth page and you have your works cited page, then do you have a five page essay? Well, I haven't met an English teacher who would accept that for a five page assignment. Why the rigid assignment requirements? 

One example. You are assigned a four page essay and you write and write and write until you have three pages and about a quarter of a page, so we can reasonably say your essay is three and a quarter pages long. At best this would round up to three and a half. At worst, it'll round down to three. Well, your essay is a half a page short. Half a page doesn't seem like much, right?

A half of a page for a four page assignment will come to 1/8 of the overall length: 12.5%. That's a lot. If we’re talking grades, that’s the difference between an A and a B-. If you were taking a math test with 40 questions and left five of them unanswered, you won't get full credit for them – so why should you on an essay? 

This still leaves an irksome question: what does fill mean? Just how much is that? Some instructors may specify a word count or range; others may want so many lines on the last page, or even inches. I try to shy away from word counts and other solid numbers, but I do tell my students the last page should have enough text to fill well over half of the space. If an essay falls right at or just over half a page, I won't reject it, but it's not going to get full credit. After all, it’s a writing class with certain expectations and falling short on requirements means not meeting those expectations.

The safe thing I've seen students do is write just up to the edge of the last line of the last required page or just go over. When I see this, I think it's overkill and I expect there to be a couple of inflated sentences. There may even be an odd expository paragraph somewhere. The best course of action would be to have an essay of a reasonable length and sufficiently detail, but if it's between a vacuous paragraph or a couple wordy sentences, it at least shows an effort to meet the requirements.