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As DBA faculty and Writing Center director, I spend much of my time talking about — and writing about — writing. This summer, as I prepare to train a new cohort of peer tutors on the Winona Campus, I have been reflecting on the intersections between tutoring pedagogy and the Lasallian Virtues. While the virtues are most often applied to a classroom setting, most are also relevant to writing center practice, particularly the one-on-one conversations about writing that are a mainstay of writing center theory and practice.

Historically, writing centers have been spaces for real-time, face-to-face conversations about writing, although many now function at least partly over email through asynchronous consultations. While one usually writes in silence, writing centers are, perhaps paradoxically, a place of conversation and even lively noise. A foundational text in writing center theory, and one assigned in most tutor training courses, is Kenneth Bruffee’s “Peer Tutoring and the Conversation of Mankind.” Drawing from the work of Vygotsky and others, Bruffee discusses how reflective thought originates in conversation with others. One’s ability to write, Bruffee explains, is dependent upon the ability to talk through an issue, not only with oneself but also with others. At their core, writing centers are based on Bruffee’s thesis, so it follows that tutors are trained primarily to talk with writers: to ask good questions and respond to those of the student, to collaboratively set an agenda, and to provide constructive feedback and suggestions using a supportive tone.

Talking also has its shortcomings. When a tutor talks more than the student/client, they might be developing more of the ideas than the writer, leading to what is often termed “appropriation” of the student text. Talking can signal expertise, so tutors — perhaps especially peer tutors — may want to fill the silence to show they have the answer and can provide words. Continuous conversation is often comfortable and may feel deceivingly productive; silence, on the other hand, may be unsettling, even awkward.

Even as conversation is a necessary precursor to thought, so is silence. As in the classroom, pauses in a tutoring session provide needed space for reflection and learning, both individual and collaborative. Silence is also a crucial part of the writing process. It’s when we brainstorm, rethink, and take a break that we often make great gains. Within a writing center session, more specifically, an openness to silence offers tutors the space, even the freedom, to not have the answer. And when tutors don’t have the answer, they can more easily engage in a peer-to-peer dialogue in which answers are arrived at collaboratively. There are times when silence should be avoided. (I won’t sit in silence while you struggle with grammar, knowing that the convention in question is new to you). In fact, a non-directive approach to tutoring that relies on silence has increasingly been critiqued for its potentially exclusionary implications.

The focus here has been on the tutor’s silence, but there are many ways a tutor can encourage silence as an integral part of the writing process. For example, by asking the writer to reread their work in silence or engage in other quiet activities such as underlining topic sentences or circling a specific type of grammar error. Effective writing tutors understand there are occasions for both silence and talk, and in employing both appropriately, they honor the writer’s ideas and experiences as well as their own expertise as a writing tutor.

He awakes at 4 a.m. to walk, read, think, and plan his day. He drinks hot tea and cherishes cats. He gardens.

He loves art, art museums, yoga, hiking, and labyrinths.

Spending time with him calms your thoughts and resolves confusion. Some people find his stillness awkward and attempt to nudge him into chatter — DON’T — accept him as is — this is the only way to really know him.

He is best friends with Contemplation, Harmony, and Regret.

The faculty know him well. He is adored.

My first memories related to the use of silence and it being golden came from my parents. One day, I was arguing loudly with some of my siblings. I can’t remember what we were arguing about, but we eventually drew our mother in. I remember my mother saying, “In this case, it seems that the empty vessel is making the most noise.” I don’t know how the others felt, but I felt those words were directed to me. I became quiet. Her simple comment forever forced me to rethink how I engage in arguments. Today, when an argument is brewing I am quick to say, “I retire.”  “I concede.” “I accept defeat.” Colloquially speaking, “I am done talking.”

Walking away from an argument gives me the space, time, and silence to reflect on my contentions. Now, instead of arguing, I prefer to journal. As a result, I have written many essays. As I grew older, I often wondered if my mom’s comment was a reference to William Shakespeare’s saying, “The empty vessel makes the greatest sound,” in “Henry V” (Act IV, Scene 4). Whether it did or not, it certainly influenced how I engage in conversations today.

Another memory on the role of silence came from my dad when I was a teenager. I can’t remember how the conversation started, but I can remember him saying there are only two things you need to have a good reputation: wisdom and integrity. He then went on to say, “To be wise, one must cultivate silence.” For years, I thought this was a Bertrand Russell’s quotation, since he was a big fan of his and I heard many of his quotations. I later found out it more matches another British philosopher’s, Francis Bacon, quotation, “Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom.”

Integrity is fulfilling every promise you make, because promises are debts that must be paid. Hopefully you have the wisdom to only make promises that can be kept.

So, while the value of silence has been a part of me, in writing this essay I can easily say this is the first time I have spent more than 10 minutes reflecting on this simple yet complex word. In our language, there are several clichés associated with silence: silence is golden, deafening silence, silence speaks volumes, sound of silence, etc. These clichés were born out of various contexts of the human experience.

The word silence can mean many things to many people. In some contexts, silence can be a treasure. In others, it can be dreadful. In the context of silence being a treasure, it could be an emergency room nurse who after many hours of intense work, desperately wants a break from all of the beeping and organized chaos of an emergency room. It could be a harried mom dealing with four sick kids and having many sleepless nights. This mom longs for the kids to all be asleep at the same time so she can cherish silence. In this context, silence is golden.

Silence is a dread when, for example, you are working on a patient and the heart monitor stops registering a pulse. You and the team frantically try to get the heart beating again, but the silence of the monitor fills the room. In this context, the silence can be deafening.

So, what is the sound of silence? Well, if you can hear it, is it really silence? Again, it is all context. This reminds me of the quotation, “There are times when silence is the best way to yell at the top of your voice,” from O. A. Battista. Yes, silence can be heard.

If you have read my other virtue essays, you know gardening is included. It is said, if you are silent and you are in the middle of a cornfield, you can hear the corn grow. I have heard the sound likened to the tearing of cotton fabric or leaves stretching and breaking. If recorded and played in fast forward, it sounds like one is frying an egg. The trick to hearing the corn grow is being silent. You have to shut out the noise from the wind, the distant car, the barking dog, and the inner noise within your head.

In confession, while I had many opportunities to actually try to listen to see if I could hear the corn grow, I never did. I even lived in Iowa for years; in my younger days, I prepared hundreds of acres of land to plant corn. During the growing season, I cultivated, mound, injected anhydrous, and was too busy working to notice. At night, I was too tired to even think about listening to corn grow. Listening to corn grow in itself would be a powerful meditative activity as one centers and calms oneself.

As I have matured, I do find silence as I garden. For me, gardening allows me to be lost in the moment. Gardening is not a task to be done; it is something to be enjoyed. This reminds me of a comment I heard when I was a teenager. I was talking to a couple in their early 70s about how they spent their time. The man said, “I like gardening.” The woman added, “It is more than like, when he gardens, he gardens.” As a teenager, this made little sense to me. Today, it not only speaks volumes, it applies to me. When I garden, I garden. There is a powerful silence and peace when this is happening. This reminds me of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s quotation, “There is no need to go to India or anywhere else to find peace. You will find that deep place of silence right in your room, your garden, or even your bathtub.”

From a spiritual perspective, silence is also critical. I remember a story of a man complaining to his friends that he spent years praying hours a day, but it seems that God was not listening because nothing in his life changed. One of his friends paused and said, “Have you ever sat in silence and listened? Maybe God is talking to you, but you are so busy praying you can’t hear what God is trying to tell you.”

In closing, it seems the word silence is indeed powerful, and it would be to our advantage if we embrace the complexity of this word and use it to develop ourselves. In the process, hopefully we become wise. I believe many of us could benefit from Francis Bacon’s quotation, “Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom.”

Working in higher education and being a current student, silence is a virtue I strive for but continually fail to achieve. When I entered my program, I was inspired by stories of Saint Mary’s students who immersed themselves in the learning experience to find academic discovery. I sought to embody the same vigor and desire to learn; I envisioned myself plunging into research and challenging myself in new ways.

A few courses into my program and some considerable life changes in the works, my academic endeavor was starting to become a game of choices. A multitude of obligations tugged at my attention and effort from various directions. My time for exploration and learning started to turn into a planned series of hoops to jump through with the aim of checking another obligation off of my growing list.

Rather than entering into silence to contemplate my work and think critically, my mind was a cacophony of noise. For the sake of being efficient, I had already decided what insightful conclusions my writing assignments would come to and sought sources to fit my preconceived notions. I had a solution and was searching for a problem to fit it to. In retrospect, it was not unlike what Father Greg Boyle describes in his book, “Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion.” In the chapter titled “Slow Work,” Father Boyle shares how his intervention work with gang members in the Boyle Heights neighborhood of Los Angeles requires a good dose of patience and silence. He refers to a story about a gang member named Leo. Father Boyle worked tirelessly with Leo to find him job interviews to offer him a path for a better life; however, each opportunity fell through. Father Boyle came to realize no matter how much he desired a better life for Leo, it would make no difference unless Leo desired the same. In the end, Leo came back to Father Boyle in earnest seeking help starting a peaceful life; they were able to find Leo meaningful work as a supervisor of an animal shelter (Boyle, 2011).

The part of this story that resonates with my situation is that wanting something and willing it to be so does not make that thing happen. As I sought to find research that supported the conclusions I had already drawn, I re-read the objectives of my writing assignments and realized I missed an integral part. I would need to start over. However, this was perhaps the best thing for me.

When I allowed myself to set aside my obligations, and turned down the volume of the constant buzz in my mind, I found the pure joy of learning. My research led the way as I critically contemplated concepts and ideas and formulated my own thoughts and applications from them. After I completed my writing assignments, I could see the ideas that emerged in the presence of silence were much stronger than those that came from an overstimulated mind.

The experience of leaning into silence to find learning reminded me that sometimes the best plan is to stay quiet and be receptive to the ideas and opportunities that emerge.

Reference

Boyle, G. (2011). Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion. Free Press.

WINONA, Minn. — Saint Mary’s University is recognizing outstanding undergraduate students by awarding several academic honors. These awards, representing a variety of academic disciplines, are given out to deserving students each spring.

Congratulations to the following academic honor recipients:

Biology Academic Achievement Award: Graham Lorsung, son of Todd Lorsung of Clear Lake, Minn.; Cole Van Houten, son of Chad and Holly Van Houten of Pine Island, Minn.; and Mackenzie Waters, daughter of Jeffrey and Marci Waters of Olathe, Kan.

Outstanding Accounting Major Award: Amanda Hansen, daughter of Randy and Connie Hansen of Brooklyn Park, Minn.

Outstanding Business Intelligence Major Award: Robert Roslund, son of Berndt Roslund of Vanersborg, Sweden

Outstanding Entrepreneurship Major Award: Stephany Beck, daughter of Randall and Patsy Beck of Oshkosh, Wis.

Outstanding Communication Major Award: Maggie Heuer, daughter of Paul and Tina Heuer of Chaska, Minn.

Outstanding International Business Major Award: Connor Cornell, son of Damen and Jessica Cornell of Plymouth, Minn.

Outstanding Finance Major Award: Jordan Malikowski, son of Wayne and Cheryl Malikowski of Royalton, Minn.

Outstanding Management Major Award: Danielle LoMastro, daughter of Carl and Sharon LoMastro of Wauconda, Ill.; and Joseph Pyka, son of Thomas and Christine Pyka of Independence, Wis.

Outstanding Marketing Major Award: Coral Anderson, daughter of Jon and Michele Anderson of Rogers, Minn.

Outstanding Sport Management Major Award: Nick Nast, son of Thomas and Luanne Nast of Oxnard, Calif.

Kevin Martineau award for Outstanding Academic Achievement Award (Business): Robert Roslund, son of Berndt Roslund of Vanersborg, Sweden

American Institute of Chemist’s Student Award in Chemistry: Delaney Wolf, daughter of Terry and Linda Wolf of Bismarck, N.D.

American Chemical Society Outstanding Senior Award: McKenna Gaalswyk, daughter of Quentin and Deaneen Gaalswyk of Rochester, Minn.

Outstanding General Chemistry Award: Kaydi Breeser, daughter of Anthony and Beth Breeser of Caledonia, Minn.

Outstanding Organic Chemistry Award: Jordan Keeley, daughter of Jeff and Kim Keeley of Saint Peter, Minn.; and Kathleen Blissenbach, daughter of Peter and Renee Blissenbach of Hastings, Minn.

Outstanding Lasallian Honors Program Senior Award: Clare Bath, daughter of Michael and Jennifer Bath of Fargo, N.D.

Brother Jerome Rademacher Award (Math, Computer Science, and Physics): Sawyer Rosner, son of Robert and Donna Rosner of Phelps, Wis.

Brother Leo Northam Award (Math, Computer Science, and Physics): Colleen Lois, daughter of Pam Vanderwall of Green Bay, Wis.

Brother Laurence Walther Founder’s Award (Music): Julia Kirk, daughter of Marta Szlubowska of Jackson, Miss., and Ned Kirk of Winona

Performance Award (Music): Julia Kirk, daughter of Marta Szlubowska of Jackson, Miss., and Ned Kirk of Winona

Saint Thomas Aquinas Award for Excellence (Philosophy): Benjamin Schoonmaker, son of Kevin and Maggie Schoonmaker of Moline, Ill.

Father Andrew Fabian Scholarship (Philosophy): Paul Rupert, son of David Rupert of Peoria, Ill.

Larry Luttmers Award (Psychology): Samantha Chaffee, daughter of Kevin and Marjorie Chaffee of Delavan, Minn.

Marilyn Frost Award (Psychology): Denise Quizhpi, daughter of Julio and Reina Quizhpi of Minneapolis, Minn.; and Justine Schultz, daughter of David and Kirstin Schultz of Winona

Psychology’s Dedicated Lasallian Award: Sarah Hardy, daughter of Rick and Kathleen Hardy of Hastings, Minn.

Psychology Department Distinction Award: Samantha Chaffee, daughter of Kevin and Marjorie Chaffee of Delavan, Minn.; Sarah Hardy, daughter of Rick and Kathleen Hardy of Hastings, Minn.; Danielle Harris, daughter of Mark and Jill Harris of Saint Paul, Minn.; Tara Nikolich, daughter of Petra Nikolich of Chicago; Jon Orvarsson, son of Orvar Jonsson of Sioux Falls, S.D.; Brandi Remold, daughter of Randy and Kathryn Remold of West Concord, Minn.; and Justine Schultz, daughter of David and Kirstin Schultz of Winona

Grove Bree Holman Award (Theatre and Dance): Maggie Heuer, daughter of Paul and Tina Heuer of Chaska, Minn.

Millie Harrison Spirit Award (Theatre and Dance): Arielle Miagkov, daughter of Valeriy and Tatiana Miagkov of Colorado Springs, Colo.

The Michael G. Flanagan Ghost Light Award (Theatre and Dance): William Scannell, son of Thomas and Carole Scannell of Evergreen Park, Ill.

Gerald Sullivan Award – Outstanding Senior Theatre Major: Anna Dale, daughter of Coby and Lynn Dale of Cottage Grove, Minn.; and Amanda Pohlman, daughter of Brent and Michele Pohlman of Omaha, Neb.