The *K.I.S.S. Principle Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking
Edition: 1
Copyright: 2024
Pages: 128
Edition: 1
Copyright: 2024
Pages: 110
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Who would have thought that a rhetorical analysis of a simple little essay about a perfect butter and jelly sandwich could help students become better readers and writers? Or that the tale of a Shinto priest refereeing a sumo match would remind students to stay on the lookout for comma splices?
The * K.I.S.S. Principle Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking does just that and much, much more. Using levity and off-the-wall analogies, this short but comprehensive handbook covers composition, grammar, and punctuation and provides students a mostly jargon-free guide that uses simple but thorough explanations and even punctuation formulas students can use on their journey to becoming competent writers.
It’s safe to assume most of our students would rather go to the dentist than take a required composition course. We know that students mostly read textbooks –and read only enough to get through their courses—which has turned students into literal readers. We’ve learned that from middle school through high school students have received little instruction about grammar and punctuation, both of which affect meaning, and instead they learn through osmosis and their limited reading.
As Mary Poppins would say, “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down,” and I hope you’ll consider The *K.I.S.S. Principle Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking as your teaspoon of composition and critical thinking sugar.
My love for reading and writing started early on, age 4, to be exact. I remember sitting at a small desk placed near the family’s wringer washer in our garage. There my mother would answer all my questions and keep an eye on me while my baby sister napped. And I would have so many questions. Now, my desktop was really a blackboard with the alphabet printed and in cursive around its perimeter. Mastering printing and cursive didn’t take long—although my mother’s insistence that I learn the various sounds of each letter slowed me down some. Then, one day I picked up the blue box of laundry detergent covered with words, all printed in white. I pointed to the largest word on the box, Ivory, and I asked, “Mommy, what does this say?” (Later I would ask what that word meant.) While pushing dozens of diapers through the wringer, she said, “Sound it out,” a command I would hear many, many more times as my informal education continued. After I started reading, I was eager to learn writing. My grandmother had just moved away, and I wanted to tell her how much I missed her. I wrote a few letters, but reading was certainly easier than writing; thus, I focused more on reading. I began reading fairytales and folklore from countries around the world. By third grade, I was tackling historical novels, not written for children but written for adults. A desire to learn about people of different cultures and with different histories became the focus of my reading and writing. Now, during my first three years in school, I was lucky enough to have three outstanding and fun-loving teachers whom I adored. These wonderful women showed me that reading should be fun. But, more importantly, they made me realize that although writing may be more difficult, the ability to share one’s ideas and knowledge may be more important and more rewarding and still be fun. Thus, by the end of second grade, I had chosen my path. I would become a composition instructor. I would also be the first in my family to graduate from college. I had my parents’ support, and I did not envision any obstacles along the way, but sometimes life intrudes in unexpected ways.
As a result, this decision did not always stay at the forefront of my mind. Over a lifetime, I have taken many paths, some not by choice. Some led to dead ends; some led to other unanticipated paths—but ever the student, I have learned, and continue learning, from every path I’ve taken . . . even when I have had to retrace my steps. I have been, and in most instances, continue to be a daughter, a sister, a friend, a babysitter, a wife, a mother, a divorcee. I have worked in offices, food service, and retail. I have been a paid tutor and have counseled friends as well as peers and colleagues. I have been a co-founder of a part-timer organization, an organization which successfully passed legislation beneficial to part-timers. Also, on behalf of part-timers, I have been a representative in two unions, one at both the state and local levels. As well, I have served on the State Community College Chancellor’s Part-time Faculty Committee, testified at the State Legislature’s Education Committee and to the Little Hoover Commission on Community Colleges. I have always been a student. My formal education is as follows: I am a high school graduate who gave commencement speeches at both of my junior and senior high school graduations. I have an AA in Foreign Languages and Literature, an A.A. in Administrative Housekeeping Management, a B.A. in English, a Secondary Teaching Credential, and an M.A. in English with a TESOL Concentration. I spent two years teaching English in Japan, but ironically, I was essentially illiterate because I could neither read, write, or speak Japanese. I have learned from life’s experiences and from other people, especially from my students. And because of what I have learned from my students, I have written The *K.I.S.S. Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking. Over the last ten or fifteen years, I had been developing and using various iterations of The *K.I.S.S. Guide, and after each semester, there would be revisions that expanded The *K.I.S.S. Guide to what you see today. Now, at the urging of lifelong friends and professional colleagues, I am a published author, mainly because of my students. I want to show students that writing can be purposeful and still fun—even if it is hard work. I want my students to succeed. Unfortunately, students are placed in Freshman Composition while lacking the tools necessary for writing clear sentences and composing fully developed paragraphs, not to mention they’re not having basic knowledge about logical fallacies. Students may think AI will solve everything, but how will students lacking fundamental skills recognize whether AI has been successful?
Who would have thought that a rhetorical analysis of a simple little essay about a perfect butter and jelly sandwich could help students become better readers and writers? Or that the tale of a Shinto priest refereeing a sumo match would remind students to stay on the lookout for comma splices?
The * K.I.S.S. Principle Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking does just that and much, much more. Using levity and off-the-wall analogies, this short but comprehensive handbook covers composition, grammar, and punctuation and provides students a mostly jargon-free guide that uses simple but thorough explanations and even punctuation formulas students can use on their journey to becoming competent writers.
It’s safe to assume most of our students would rather go to the dentist than take a required composition course. We know that students mostly read textbooks –and read only enough to get through their courses—which has turned students into literal readers. We’ve learned that from middle school through high school students have received little instruction about grammar and punctuation, both of which affect meaning, and instead they learn through osmosis and their limited reading.
As Mary Poppins would say, “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down,” and I hope you’ll consider The *K.I.S.S. Principle Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking as your teaspoon of composition and critical thinking sugar.
My love for reading and writing started early on, age 4, to be exact. I remember sitting at a small desk placed near the family’s wringer washer in our garage. There my mother would answer all my questions and keep an eye on me while my baby sister napped. And I would have so many questions. Now, my desktop was really a blackboard with the alphabet printed and in cursive around its perimeter. Mastering printing and cursive didn’t take long—although my mother’s insistence that I learn the various sounds of each letter slowed me down some. Then, one day I picked up the blue box of laundry detergent covered with words, all printed in white. I pointed to the largest word on the box, Ivory, and I asked, “Mommy, what does this say?” (Later I would ask what that word meant.) While pushing dozens of diapers through the wringer, she said, “Sound it out,” a command I would hear many, many more times as my informal education continued. After I started reading, I was eager to learn writing. My grandmother had just moved away, and I wanted to tell her how much I missed her. I wrote a few letters, but reading was certainly easier than writing; thus, I focused more on reading. I began reading fairytales and folklore from countries around the world. By third grade, I was tackling historical novels, not written for children but written for adults. A desire to learn about people of different cultures and with different histories became the focus of my reading and writing. Now, during my first three years in school, I was lucky enough to have three outstanding and fun-loving teachers whom I adored. These wonderful women showed me that reading should be fun. But, more importantly, they made me realize that although writing may be more difficult, the ability to share one’s ideas and knowledge may be more important and more rewarding and still be fun. Thus, by the end of second grade, I had chosen my path. I would become a composition instructor. I would also be the first in my family to graduate from college. I had my parents’ support, and I did not envision any obstacles along the way, but sometimes life intrudes in unexpected ways.
As a result, this decision did not always stay at the forefront of my mind. Over a lifetime, I have taken many paths, some not by choice. Some led to dead ends; some led to other unanticipated paths—but ever the student, I have learned, and continue learning, from every path I’ve taken . . . even when I have had to retrace my steps. I have been, and in most instances, continue to be a daughter, a sister, a friend, a babysitter, a wife, a mother, a divorcee. I have worked in offices, food service, and retail. I have been a paid tutor and have counseled friends as well as peers and colleagues. I have been a co-founder of a part-timer organization, an organization which successfully passed legislation beneficial to part-timers. Also, on behalf of part-timers, I have been a representative in two unions, one at both the state and local levels. As well, I have served on the State Community College Chancellor’s Part-time Faculty Committee, testified at the State Legislature’s Education Committee and to the Little Hoover Commission on Community Colleges. I have always been a student. My formal education is as follows: I am a high school graduate who gave commencement speeches at both of my junior and senior high school graduations. I have an AA in Foreign Languages and Literature, an A.A. in Administrative Housekeeping Management, a B.A. in English, a Secondary Teaching Credential, and an M.A. in English with a TESOL Concentration. I spent two years teaching English in Japan, but ironically, I was essentially illiterate because I could neither read, write, or speak Japanese. I have learned from life’s experiences and from other people, especially from my students. And because of what I have learned from my students, I have written The *K.I.S.S. Guide to Academic Writing and Critical Thinking. Over the last ten or fifteen years, I had been developing and using various iterations of The *K.I.S.S. Guide, and after each semester, there would be revisions that expanded The *K.I.S.S. Guide to what you see today. Now, at the urging of lifelong friends and professional colleagues, I am a published author, mainly because of my students. I want to show students that writing can be purposeful and still fun—even if it is hard work. I want my students to succeed. Unfortunately, students are placed in Freshman Composition while lacking the tools necessary for writing clear sentences and composing fully developed paragraphs, not to mention they’re not having basic knowledge about logical fallacies. Students may think AI will solve everything, but how will students lacking fundamental skills recognize whether AI has been successful?