Argument as a Catalyst of Community

by TWIG Contributor Ambur “Bur” Miller

At first I thought that argument meant division. In the secondary school I attended I don’t remember even discussing it as a skill, but I believed that confrontation was bad. Argument meant choosing a side, adamantly standing on that metaphorical soap box, and heatedly debating regardless of who was listening or why they disagreed. As a new teacher a decade ago, being asked to teach this skill was intimidating. Over the years I learned that argument wasn’t quite as terrifying and divisive as it originally seemed, even if much of the world interprets the purpose of argument differently than we do in education.

I’ve learned that the teaching of argument writing isn’t just a standard to meet, it is a necessary skill that much of the real world currently lacks. Argument isn’t so much about being correct, or winning an argument, but it is more about asking the right questions, finding your voice, and, most importantly, listening to the voices of others. 

Traditionally, this is not what our students have been taught. Argument has been so difficult for us and our students to grasp because it asks us to be vulnerable and possibly be wrong (and acknowledging it) in front of others! However, I’ve learned this past year that modeling vulnerability--asking questions with students, sharing moments where I’ve been corrected and how that’s helped me grow, and asking questions about the events around us can lead to what argument really should be. These prompts, popular in the Kernel Essay (that this piece is even modeled after), lends itself to this mindset:

“First I thought….”

“Then I learned this from…”

“Now I think…”

“But I still wonder…”

I’ve now started to see argument in the classroom as a way to share one’s voice and discover the voices of others--not hinder or stifle them. This makes argument a catalyst of community in our lives and in our classrooms. True community. A community based on the understanding of others and the stories that have created the soapboxes they stand on or the questions that they ask. A community that leaves notes of hope and encouragement on whiteboards simply because they are beginning to understand that more lies beyond a person’s outer appearance and initial claim. 

As a participant in TWIG I’ve been asked many questions. How can I create a safe space for every student’s voice? How can I help students explore other’s perspectives while developing their own claims? How can I give students the knowledge and courage to respond to others? And let others respond to them? How can I better listen to my students? Yet I’ve discovered that argument, when taught by asking these questions, can mean unity. This process has been much like the practice of argument itself. I’ve started asking the right questions, sought after more lines of inquiry and possible answers, and been encouraged and challenged  by listening to others' voices. Perhaps that is why the Boise State Writing Project and TWIG are as meaningful as they are; they are byproducts of a passionate culture of argument themselves.