I haven’t posted to my blog lately because I self-edit too much. I’ve started dozens of blog entries and then deleted them because I didn’t think that I had anything relevant to add to the blogosphere. Why clutter it up anymore than it already is? And then sometimes I wonder what others will think about what I have to say. Blogging and social networking can bring back tons of self-absorbed middle-school neuroses.

But seriously, why should I care? How many people really find one lonely little blog? And of those who do read it, does it matter whether or not they find what I write to be enlightening? That’s the beauty of the internet, isn’t it? We vote with our mouse. If we don’t like something, we go elsewhere.

This has made me wonder, though: How does blogging cause us to rethink what we write about, who we share it with, how we represent ourselves, and how others might perceive what they read? Why do people blog? What’s appropriate to blog about? Are there things that should just be kept private? But then there are private blogs for that, right? I guess I just don’t get the point of those. Perhaps someone else can help me understand?

In my graduate class, I require my students to keep blogs. But I can’t decide how I feel about the educational potential of blogging–is it inappropriate to coerce someone into blogging? Is there a unique potential learning experience that can only be found through blogging? Maybe I’m overthinking it. Or maybe I’m just too darn skeptical.

The longer I spend in the business of teaching writing (and especially in being a writing program administrator-WPA), the more I find myself challenged by a paradox that I can’t seem to solve. I believe that it’s vital that writing teachers and WPAs have knowledge and understanding of the linguistic diversity that they encounter in their classes. I think it’s important that writing teachers have a background in working with second language/ESL writers, for example. But I also find that the more I learn about linguistic diversity and the more I understand about my students’ complex linguistic and cultural heritages, the more I question the nature of what I do.

Writing programs are in the business of assimilation, so we’re caught in a dilemma. We want to honor (and if possible, preserve) students’ home languages and cultures, but our job is to teach them “Standard Academic English.” Sometimes I find myself coming back to Sharon Crowley’s argument about the nature of the first-year writing requirement, and how Jim Berlin pointed out the “gate-keeping” nature of the course. It’s a puzzling paradox, and I’m not sure I have a solution. Perhaps there isn’t a simple one. I don’t see the existence of the paradox as negative, though–maybe it’s just a step on the way toward developing a better approach to teaching writing and structuring writing programs. But I’d be interested to hear the thoughts of others.