Writing Test 4

The following passage is from a 1991 essay that discusses
the debate over which authors should be taught in English
classes.
Now, what are we to make of this sputtering debate,
in which charges of imperialism are met by equally
passionate accusations of vandalism, in which each side
hates the other, and yet each seems to have its share of
reason? It occurs to me that perhaps what we have here
is one of those debates in which the opposing sides,
unbeknownst to themselves, share a myopia that will turn
out to be the most interesting and important feature of the
whole discussion, a debate, for instance, like that of the
Founding Fathers over the nature of the franchise. Think
of all the energy and passion spent debating the question
of property qualifications, or direct versus legislative
elections, while all along, unmentioned and unimagined,
was the fact - to us so central - that women and slaves
were never considered for any kind of vote.
While everyone is busy fighting over what should be
taught in the classroom, something is being overlooked.
That is the state of reading, and books, and literature in our
country, at this time. Why, ask yourself, is everyone so hot
 under the collar about what to put on the required-reading
shelf? It is because, while we have been arguing so fiercely
about which books make the best medicine, the patient has
been slipping deeper and deeper into a coma.
Let us imagine a country in which reading was a popular
voluntary activity. There, parents read books for their own
edification and pleasure and are seen by their children at
this silent and mysterious pastime. These parents also read
to their children, give them books for presents, talk to them
about books, and underwrite, with their taxes, a public
library system that is open all day, every day. In school,
the children study certain books together but also have an
active reading life of their own. Years later, it may even
be hard for them to remember if they read Jane Eyre at
home and Judy Blume in class or the other way around.
In college, young people continue to be assigned certain
books, but far more important are the books they discover
for themselves browsing in the library, in bookstores, on
the shelves of friends, one book leading to another, back
and forth in history and across languages and cultures.
After graduation, they continue to read and in the fullness
of time produce a new generation of readers. Oh happy
land! I wish we all lived there.
In that country of real readers, voluntary, active, self-
determined readers, a debate like the current one over the
canon would not be taking place. Or if it did, it would be
as a kind of parlor game: What books would you take to
a desert island? Everyone would know that the top-ten list
was merely a tiny fraction of the books one would read in
a lifetime. It would not seem racist or sexist or hopelessly
hidebound to put Nathaniel Hawthorne on the list and not
Toni Morrison. It would be more like putting oatmeal
and not noodles on the breakfast menu - a choice partly
arbitrary, partly a nod to the national past, and partly, dare
one say it, a kind of reverse affirmative action: School
might frankly be the place where one reads the books that
are a little off-putting, that have gone a little cold, that you
might overlook because they do not address, in reader-
friendly contemporary fashion, the issues most immediately
at stake in modern life but that, with a little study, turn out
to have a great deal to say. Being on the list wouldn't mean
so much. It might even add to a writer's cachet not to be on
the list, to be in one way or another too heady, too daring,
too exciting to be ground up into institutional fodder for
teenagers. Generations of high school kids have been turned
off to George Eliot by being forced to read Silas Marner
at a tender age. One can imagine a whole new readership
for her if grown-ups were left to approach Middlemarch
and Daniel Deronda with open minds, at their leisure.

The passage below is excerpted from the introduction to a
collection of essays published in 1994.
My entry into Black women's history was serendipitous.
In the preface to Black Women in America: An Historical
Encyclopedia, I recount the story of exactly how Shirley
Herd (who, in addition to teaching in the local school sys-
tem, was also president of the Indianapolis chapter of the
National Council of Negro Women) successfully provoked
me into changing my research and writing focus. Although
I dedicate this volume to her and to her best friend, fellow
club woman and retired primary school teacher Virtea
Downey, I still blush at the fact that I went to graduate
school to become a historian in order to contribute to the
Black Struggle for social justice and yet met her request to
write a history of Black women in Indiana with condescen-
sion. I had never even thought about Black women as his-
torical subjects with their own relations to a state's history,
and I thought her invitation and phone call extraordinarily
intrusive. Only later did I concede how straightforward
and reasonable had been her request to redress a historical
omission. Black women were conspicuous by their absence.
None of the social studies texts or state histories that Herd
and Downey had used to teach their students made mention
of the contributions of Black women. Since historians had
left them out, Herd reasoned, only a "real" historian could
put them in, and since I was the only tenured Black woman
historian in the state of Indiana at that time, the task was
mine.
Herd rejected my reservations and completely ignored
my admonitions that she could not call up a historian and
order a book the way you drive up to a fast-food restaurant
and order a hamburger. In spite of my assertions of igno-
rance about the history of Black women in Indiana and my
confession of having never studied the subject in any his-
tory course or examined any manuscript sources pertaining
to their lives, Herd persevered. Black women, as historical
subjects and agents, were as invisible to me as they had
been to school textbook writers.
Undaunted by my response, Herd demanded that I con-
nect (thankfully without perfect symmetry) my biology
and autobiography, my race and gender, my being a Black
woman, to my skill as a historian, and write for her and for
the local chapter members of the National Council a history
of Black women in Indiana. I relented and wrote the book,
When the Truth Is Told: Black Women's Culture and
Community in Indiana, 1875-1950, as requested. In the
process, I was both humbled and astounded by the array of
rich primary source materials Herd, Downey, and the other
club women had spent two years collecting. There were
diaries, club notes, church souvenir booklets, photographs,
club minutes, birth, death, and marriage certificates, letters,
and handwritten county and local histories. Collectively
this material revealed a universe I never knew existed in
spite of having lived with Black women all of my life . . . 
and being one myself. Or perhaps more accurately, I knew
a universe of Black women existed. I simply had not envi-
sioned its historical meaning.

The passage below is excerpted from the introduction to a
collection of essays published in 1994.
My entry into Black women's history was serendipitous.
In the preface to Black Women in America: An Historical
Encyclopedia, I recount the story of exactly how Shirley
Herd (who, in addition to teaching in the local school sys-
tem, was also president of the Indianapolis chapter of the
National Council of Negro Women) successfully provoked
me into changing my research and writing focus. Although
I dedicate this volume to her and to her best friend, fellow
club woman and retired primary school teacher Virtea
Downey, I still blush at the fact that I went to graduate
school to become a historian in order to contribute to the
Black Struggle for social justice and yet met her request to
write a history of Black women in Indiana with condescen-
sion. I had never even thought about Black women as his-
torical subjects with their own relations to a state's history,
and I thought her invitation and phone call extraordinarily
intrusive. Only later did I concede how straightforward
and reasonable had been her request to redress a historical
omission. Black women were conspicuous by their absence.
None of the social studies texts or state histories that Herd
and Downey had used to teach their students made mention
of the contributions of Black women. Since historians had
left them out, Herd reasoned, only a "real" historian could
put them in, and since I was the only tenured Black woman
historian in the state of Indiana at that time, the task was
mine.
Herd rejected my reservations and completely ignored
my admonitions that she could not call up a historian and
order a book the way you drive up to a fast-food restaurant
and order a hamburger. In spite of my assertions of igno-
rance about the history of Black women in Indiana and my
confession of having never studied the subject in any his-
tory course or examined any manuscript sources pertaining
to their lives, Herd persevered. Black women, as historical
subjects and agents, were as invisible to me as they had
been to school textbook writers.
Undaunted by my response, Herd demanded that I con-
nect (thankfully without perfect symmetry) my biology
and autobiography, my race and gender, my being a Black
woman, to my skill as a historian, and write for her and for
the local chapter members of the National Council a history
of Black women in Indiana. I relented and wrote the book,
When the Truth Is Told: Black Women's Culture and
Community in Indiana, 1875-1950, as requested. In the
process, I was both humbled and astounded by the array of
rich primary source materials Herd, Downey, and the other
club women had spent two years collecting. There were
diaries, club notes, church souvenir booklets, photographs,
club minutes, birth, death, and marriage certificates, letters,
and handwritten county and local histories. Collectively
this material revealed a universe I never knew existed in
spite of having lived with Black women all of my life . . . 
and being one myself. Or perhaps more accurately, I knew
a universe of Black women existed. I simply had not envi-
sioned its historical meaning.

The passage below is excerpted from the introduction to a
collection of essays published in 1994.
My entry into Black women's history was serendipitous.
In the preface to Black Women in America: An Historical
Encyclopedia, I recount the story of exactly how Shirley
Herd (who, in addition to teaching in the local school sys-
tem, was also president of the Indianapolis chapter of the
National Council of Negro Women) successfully provoked
me into changing my research and writing focus. Although
I dedicate this volume to her and to her best friend, fellow
club woman and retired primary school teacher Virtea
Downey, I still blush at the fact that I went to graduate
school to become a historian in order to contribute to the
Black Struggle for social justice and yet met her request to
write a history of Black women in Indiana with condescen-
sion. I had never even thought about Black women as his-
torical subjects with their own relations to a state's history,
and I thought her invitation and phone call extraordinarily
intrusive. Only later did I concede how straightforward
and reasonable had been her request to redress a historical
omission. Black women were conspicuous by their absence.
None of the social studies texts or state histories that Herd
and Downey had used to teach their students made mention
of the contributions of Black women. Since historians had
left them out, Herd reasoned, only a "real" historian could
put them in, and since I was the only tenured Black woman
historian in the state of Indiana at that time, the task was
mine.
Herd rejected my reservations and completely ignored
my admonitions that she could not call up a historian and
order a book the way you drive up to a fast-food restaurant
and order a hamburger. In spite of my assertions of igno-
rance about the history of Black women in Indiana and my
confession of having never studied the subject in any his-
tory course or examined any manuscript sources pertaining
to their lives, Herd persevered. Black women, as historical
subjects and agents, were as invisible to me as they had
been to school textbook writers.
Undaunted by my response, Herd demanded that I con-
nect (thankfully without perfect symmetry) my biology
and autobiography, my race and gender, my being a Black
woman, to my skill as a historian, and write for her and for
the local chapter members of the National Council a history
of Black women in Indiana. I relented and wrote the book,
When the Truth Is Told: Black Women's Culture and
Community in Indiana, 1875-1950, as requested. In the
process, I was both humbled and astounded by the array of
rich primary source materials Herd, Downey, and the other
club women had spent two years collecting. There were
diaries, club notes, church souvenir booklets, photographs,
club minutes, birth, death, and marriage certificates, letters,
and handwritten county and local histories. Collectively
this material revealed a universe I never knew existed in
spite of having lived with Black women all of my life . . . 
and being one myself. Or perhaps more accurately, I knew
a universe of Black women existed. I simply had not envi-
sioned its historical meaning.

Is a person's gender an important influence on how he or she behaves with others? Contemporary sociologists and other scholars have argued on this question fiercely. The following pair of passages presents two contrasting voices from that debate. 

Passage 1

      The desire to affirm that women and men are completely equal has made some scholars reluctant to show ways in which they are different, because differences Line between two groups of people have so often been used (5) to 'justify" unequal treatment and opportunity. Much as I understand and am in sympathy with those who wish there were no differences between women and men, only reparable social injustice, my research on styles of conversation tells me that, at least in this (10) area, it simply isn't so. I believe that there are gender differences in ways of speaking, and we need to identify and understand them. Without such understanding, we are doomed to blame others or ourselves or our own relationships for the otherwise mystifying and damaging (15) effects of our contrasting conversational styles. 
         It is clear to me that recognizing gender differences in conversational styles would free individuals from the burden of an inappropriate sense of being at fault for chronic disagreements. Many women and men feel (20) dissatisfied with their close relationships with spouses, siblings, parents and become even more frustrated when they try to talk things out. Taking a socio-linguistic approach to such troubling encounters makes it possible to explain these dissatisfaction without accusing anyone (25) of being wrong and without blaming or discarding the relationship. 
              The socio=linguistic approach I take in my work is based on my belief that many frictions arise because, here in the United States, boys and girls grow up in what are essentially (30) different cultures, so that talk between women and men is actually cross-cultural communication. For little boys, talk is primarily a means of making statements of achievement through games like bragging contests. This may also be done by exhibiting knowledge or skill and by (35) holding center stage through such verbal performance as storytelling, joking, or imparting information. Little girls appear to be eager to share and compare interests and ideas. Emphasis is placed on displaying similarities and matching experiences. For them, the language of conversation (40) is primarily a language of rapport: a way of establishing connection and negotiating relationships. So this view of children's behavior predicts that more women than men will be comfortable speaking one-on-one, to individuals. And even when addressing an audience, women may be (45) more concerned than men with establishing rapport. 

Passage 2

         Gender stereotypes should concern us for several reasons. First, they may dictate what we notice and bias our perceptions in the direction of expectation. Some researchers attempt to elucidate gender differences in (50) order to help women and men understand and respond to one another better. In the process, however, their work encourages people to notice and attend to differences rather than similarities, to perceive men and women in accordance with stereotypes that may not accurately depict their behave (55) for or intentions. Second, gender stereotypes may not only describe behavior but also prescribe it, dictating how men and women "should" behave. People begin to act in ways that support other people's gender-role expectations of them. 
          (60) It is time to rethink our understanding of gender, to move away from the notion that men and women have two contrasting styles of interaction that were acquired in childhood. We need to move from a conceptualization of gender as an attribute or style of behavior to an understanding (65) of gender as something people do in social interaction. As a noted scholar proposes, "None of us is feminine or is masculine or fails to be either of those. In particular contexts people do feminine, in others, they do masculine." People display contradictory behaviors as they (70) encounter different social norms and pressures. 
        Some researchers view male-female conversations as cross-cultural communication. The two-cultures approach postulates that difficulties in communication between men and women arise because of a clash of conversational (75) styles. But this approach has a number of limitations. First, the coherence of male and female subcultures in childhood has been exaggerated. We arrive at a contrasting picture of the cultures of boys and girls only by singling out those children who fit common gender stereotypes and marginalizing (80) others. We fail to notice the children who do not fit those stereotypes, for example, boys who excel at caring for younger siblings or girls who enjoy building things in shop class. Second, although children may choose same-sex playmates as preferred partners, they interact daily (85) inside and outside school with the opposite sex. Children have countless experiences communicating with people of both sexes: they do not learn to communicate in gender-segregated worlds. They learn to display different styles of interaction in different contexts: they do not learn a single (90) gender-related style. The same child may display dominance and give orders to a younger playmate but show deference and follow orders from an older friend. 

Both passages discuss the issue of the intelligence of dogs.
Passage 1 was adapted from a 2001 book on animal
intelligence. Passage 2 was written in 2001 by a dog
trainer and writer.

Passage 1
It was no accident that nineteenth-century naturalist
Charles Darwin strove to connect the mentality and
emotionality of people with that of dogs, rather than, say,
doves or horses. Neither his theory of evolution nor any
general understanding of biology demanded that he pref-
erentially underline our similarity to dogs over other
species. But politically and emotionally, the choice was
inevitable for an English gentleman who had set himself
the task of making the idea of evolutionary continuity
palatable. Darwin wrote that "dogs possess something
very similar to a conscience. They certainly possess
some power of self-command. . . . Dogs have long been
accepted as the very type of fidelity and obedience."
Darwin was not alone in his beliefs that dogs possess
human virtues. The characteristics of loyalty and obedience,
coupled with an expressive face and body, can account
for why dogs are such popular and valued pets in many
cultures. Depending on the breed and the individual, dogs
can be noble, charming, affectionate, and reliable. But
while all dog owners should rightly appreciate these and
other endearing traits in their pets, nothing says that the
cleverness of a highly intelligent primate such as a chim-
panzee is part of the package. Scientists generally believe
the reasoning abilities of chimps to be considerably greater
than that of dogs. But many people nonetheless believe that
dogs are smarter than chimps precisely because of our
familiarity and emotional ties with the dogs that we love.
We apply the same secret rules to our fellow humans: the
old in-group, out-group story. People in your in-group are
those who are similar to you, either because they belong
to the same organizations as you, or enjoy the same
activities, or, and this is the kicker, because they are simply
around more often. Dogs, because of their proximity to
their owners, are definitely in. The intensity of our
relationship with dogs causes us, quite naturally, to imbue
them with high-level mental abilities, whether they have
earned those extra intelligence points or not. We like them,
so we think well of them.

Passage 2
Every dog trainer that I know had the same childhood, a
childhood filled with the brilliant, heroic dogs of literature.
We read about dogs who regularly traveled thousands of
miles to be reunited with owners who somehow misplaced
them, repeatedly saved people from certain death, and
continually exhibited a better grasp of strategic problem-
solving than the average Ph.D. In the preface to one of his
many dog stories, S. P. Meek a bit shamefacedly remarked
that in writing of dogs "I endeavored to hold these heroes
down to the level of canine intelligence, and to make them,
above all, believable. If at times I seem to have made them
show supercanine intelligence, it is because my enthusiasm
has run away with me." We forgave him, of course.
It was something of a shock, therefore, to discover
how the learning theory "experts" believed dogs think
and learn. I was told that dogs, unlike chimpanzees, have
no real reasoning ability. Dogs don't think: rather, they
learn to avoid the unpleasant (negative reinforcement), seek
the pleasant (positive reinforcement), or some combination
of the two. To contend otherwise was to be guilty of the sin
of anthropomorphizing, the attribution to an animal of
motivations and consciousness that only a human being
could possess.
Yet as a dog trainer, I find myself siding more with the
Meeks than I do with the learning theorists: nobody could
believe dispassionately in the totality of positive and nega-
tive reinforcement after seeing the pure intelligence shining
in the face of a border collie intent upon helping a shepherd
herd sheep. Dogs do think and reason. Granted, a dog might
not be able to run a maze as quickly as a chimp. But a dog
outshines any other animal that I know in the ability to
work willingly with a human being, to communicate with
a puzzling creature who often makes incomprehensible
demands. Researchers have increasingly come to view
intelligence as a complex collection of mental abilities
that cannot be fully captured in any simple way. Dogs
are geniuses at being useful, and it is this usefulness
that we admire when we praise their intelligence. As
Jonica Newby, a specialist in animal-human interaction,
writes, "In some ways intelligence is a matter of match-
ing behavior to environment. To compare intelligence
in creatures that have evolved differently is a bit like
deciding which has hit upon the best mode of travel: the
dolphin or the horse." And it is dogs, not chimps, who
possess the most helpful mode of travel for human beings.