The myth of genius authorship pervades, always. From the moment students are taught the basics of writing—the standard structures in which to say something in their writing—they are faced with a kind of unconscious model to mimic. Be that example essays of “ideal” scholarship or the supplementary literature they are given to think about and ultimately analyze in a strict five-paragraph model, there is nevertheless a distinction between writer and non writer that emerges and lingers. With that sort of separation, teachers begin labeling certain students as gifted, as possessing a natural ability. Even if they don’t specifically label the students who aren’t “gifted,” this again and still fortifies the genius construct, and students who otherwise could have evolved and better understood their writing style naturally find themselves in a position of jettisoning writing ambitions.

And why shouldn’t they? If you’re directly or indirectly told that you are not of a natural born order of writers, and therefore not part of a “genius lineage,” you’d naturally not be inclined to want to learn more. This gradual exchange is, of course, not as direct or active as I’m making it seem. No teacher (hopefully) would even have this mentality, let alone consciously engage with it. For my students, though, I see the effects constantly. Their writing often has a powerful style to it, or a strong voice, or is rhetorically persuasive in its language, and still they directly tell me: I’m not a writer/I’m not good at writing/I wouldn’t write outside the classroom. They’re bogged down, too, by some objective standard that emphasizes grammar, spelling, and general sentence structure. What makes them particularly struggle, I notice, is that they are perfectly aware of these “mistakes.” They tell me so in their letters, preluding errors before they even make them, simultaneously warning me and asking for my help.

Again, most of these students don’t see themselves as writers, or as having the potential to be writers. To be a writer, for them, is not to simply write and use writing as a tool; it’s something grander, but also vaguer, and they don’t see themselves in the in-group. This is obviously very frustrating, but one immediate benefit of a grading contract model is that I am able to bypass the generic focuses that have been imposed on them for years, and tailor feedback in an individualized and hopefully beneficial way.