Not So Great Expectations Claire Wanzer
Writing Studies sounds like the study of J.K Rowling or Moby Dick. If I had to pick a logo for writing studies, it would be a straight mustard yellow pencil, with a dull pink eraser on one end and a sharp black triangle point on the other. Writing studies smells like grammar—like the bitter coffee breath of my 6th grade teacher explaining conjunction junction, but I can’t for the life of me remember the function. It tastes like a pen cap and Orbit gum that’s been chewed for too long. Writing studies feels like my sweat-sogged in-class essay on wide ruled loose leaf, wet with blurry pencil smudges and smears and words trying very hard to mean something important. Writing studies sounds like the written part of the SAT, a writing sample, or simply an in-depth infatuation with the greatest American writers of all time. Writing studies conversations go like this: “I like to write and read. So I will be an English major.” “And what will you do with that major? Teach English or be a writer?” “I am not sure. I just know that I’ve always liked my English classes.” Writing studies teachers wear glasses. It’s a non-negotiable. They quote Shakespeare. They read for fun. God forbid. The tools of writing studies are: 1. Dictionary, 2. Thesaurus, 3. Back Up Dictionary, 4. Never ending supply of Englishy terms like metonym and predicate and register and anaphora. Writing studies is only applicable to writers, teachers, writing teachers, and my grandma who insists that grammar in schools must be going downhill compared to back when she was a kid. 21
