Have Some Standards, Please

Have you ever been on a date where the other person just… doesn’t try? They show up thirty minutes late, talk about themselves the entire time and then have the audacity to suggest “splitting the bill 50/50” when they not only ordered the most expensive thing on the menu but said they were treating you in the texts? 

Yeah. That’s exactly how I feel about the state of writing instruction in both K-12 and higher education.

Let’s be real: there are standards for how we should be teaching and assessing writing—standards that scholars, educators and researchers have laid out pretty clearly. However, much like dating, just because standards exist doesn’t mean people actually follow them. It’s easy to dish out advice to your friend (“Dump him!!!”)…but it’s also just as easy to excuse not heeding your own advice (“I know I said no-contact, but hear me out…”). 

We need to talk about what writing education should be doing—and why, much like a toxic situationship, it keeps disappointing us anyway.

Writing Should Be a Lifelong Relationship, Not a One-Night Stand

You know what’s not cute? A date who only puts in effort for one night and then never texts back. You know what else isn’t cute? First-year composition courses pretending they are enough to make students “good” writers for life.

The Council of Writing Program Administrators (WPA) Outcomes Statement for First-Year Composition makes it clear: writing does not just “get better” after one class—it diversifies. What students learn in their first-year writing courses should be a foundation, not a capstone. Yet, in both K-12 and college, writing instruction is often treated like a one-and-done deal.

In K-12, writing is typically taught as a skill to be “mastered” by high school graduation, often through formulaic approaches like the five-paragraph essay. Once students move beyond standardized test prompts, they struggle to adjust to real-world writing expectations (NCTE).

Meanwhile, in higher education, first-year composition should prepare students for writing in their disciplines. Unfortunately, many students never receive further structured writing instruction once they enter their majors.

Writing is a lifelong skill. Treating it like a “one-semester stand” is why many students struggle with writing in their careers, where expectations differ drastically across fields.

Stop Falling for Superficial

We have all seen them: the person who looks great on Hinge (good job, good clothes, good hair) but has the personality of a beige wall. That is how education treats writing—focusing so much on grammar and correctness that it forgets about substance.

According to the Conference on College Composition and Communication’s (CCCC) Principles for the Postsecondary Teaching of Writing, writing is not just about eliminating errors; it is about critical thinking, audience awareness and rhetorical decision-making. Still, writing instruction—especially in K-12—remains laser-focused on mechanical correctness.

During grade school, standardized tests prioritize correctness over creativity, reinforcing the idea that “good writing” is just grammatically correct writing. This leads to students developing anxiety around writing and avoiding risk-taking.

At the college level, many professors still grade based on surface-level mechanics rather than engaging with students’ actual arguments and ideas. Writing rubrics often prioritize “clarity” (a.k.a. conformity to academic English) over rhetorical effectiveness.

If writing instruction were a person, it would be the kind of date that only cares about how you look and ignores everything you have to say. Not a great match if you want something long-term.

“K.”

Ever poured your heart out in a long text just to get a dry “K” in response? That is exactly how students feel when they get vague, unhelpful feedback on their writing.

One of the WPA Outcomes Statement’s main points is that writing develops through multiple drafts, revisions and feedback. Despite this, most students are not getting the kind of meaningful feedback they need to improve.

It is no secret that, at every level, educators are overworked and often lack time to provide in-depth feedback. Instead, students get generic margin comments like “awk” (awkward), “needs more support” or – the feedback that has me punching walls – “?” (what the hell does this mean???). All of this without any actual guidance on how to fix their writing.

Sure, you can argue, “Well, students are supposed to reach out if they are confused or have any questions!” Well, yes! – but this only happens if they are empowered enough to reach out in the first place. If most students are expressing that they do not feel as connected to their educators as they think they should, then they are not going to willingly ask for clarification on their feedback. 

At the collegiate level, large class sizes and the reliance on adjunct labor mean that professors do not have time to give students substantive feedback. Even with smaller class sizes, professors either do not have the time, feel as if it is expected for students to know what they mean – or even both. This results in students receiving nothing but a letter grade and a vague comment about “clarity” or “organization” – and no opportunity for revision. 

How do we expect students to improve their writing if we are giving them the equivalent of a dry “K” every time they turn something in?

Writing Should Be Dynamic—Not a Repetitive, Copy-Paste Affair

Speaking of dry: I cannot stand a conversation with someone who you know has not made a single effort to get out of their comfort zone. They tell the same three stories no matter the topic. You could mention astrophysics, and somehow, they would still circle back to their high school football days. No fresh perspective, no nothing – just blissful ignorance. This is what happens when writing instruction relies too much on formulaic structures instead of encouraging genuine communication.

The WPA and National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) standards both emphasize that writing varies by genre, audience and rhetorical situation. Still, students are still being trained to write one kind of essay for every situation.

It all starts at K-12 with ol’ faithful: the five-paragraph essay. While it may teach structure, it also stifles creativity and adaptability. Once students enter college or the workforce, they struggle to adjust to different genres of writing.

As students progress to post-secondary education, writing is often confined to traditional academic essays, with little exposure to professional, technical or multimodal writing. This narrow focus leaves students unprepared for the diverse writing demands of the workplace, where reports, proposals, digital content and presentations are far more common. Without opportunities to practice these forms, students will struggle to adapt their writing skills beyond the academic setting, making the transition to professional communication unnecessarily difficult.

Meaningful writing instruction should prepare students for the real world, not just for standardized tests and rigid academic formats. Otherwise, it is just like going on a date with the guy you saved on your phone as “Mt. High School”; sure, they sound like they know something, but can they actually hold a meaningful conversation? Writing should be dynamic, adaptable and engaging, not just an exercise in repeating the same formula over and over.

BFFR – Stop Lying.

Dating apps exist. They are designed to connect you to potential suitors you would have never known existed before, all in the hopes that you meet your perfect person and live happily ever after with them (or at least hook-up with the person that lives 10 minutes away).

Somehow, your Grindr fling turned into a serious relationship (yay!). For some reason, you are still telling people that you both met as strangers bumping into each other at the park during a morning jog. Be for real.

Pretending generative AI isn’t changing writing is like pretending dating apps don’t exist. We can either ban them and act shocked when people find loopholes, or we can teach people how to use them responsibly.

The CCCC principles emphasize that writing instruction must integrate new technologies and adapt to changing literacy practices. Naturally, this should include generative AI, but schools and universities still act like AI is the penultimate threat rather than a tool.

Some schools are banning generative AI outright. Educators at all levels expressed concerns about plagiarism but rarely engage students in discussions about the ethical and rhetorical implications of generative AI in writing.

Look, I am not a fan of generative AI (or dating apps). Along with having serious effects on the environment, generative AI, when used irresponsibly, can hinder and reduce creativity and skill from overreliance. However, this system is not going anywhere. 

Just as a dating app can help you meet people but can’t teach you emotional intelligence (hello, stranger danger), AI can assist with writing but can’t replace the ability to analyze, argue, or create with depth. It can be a good tool for brainstorming, revising and refining ideas rather than a shortcut to avoid thinking. If we want students to develop real writing skills, we need to stop fearing the technology – and feeling shame for deciding to use it –  and start teaching them how to use it responsibly.

. . .

Writing education has clear, research-backed standards. The problem is that, much like in the dating world, people keep ignoring them in favor of bad habits, outdated expectations and low-effort engagement.

If we keep treating writing instruction like a low-effort situationship, we are going to keep producing students who can pass a grammar quiz but have no idea how to communicate effectively in the real world.

Educators – stand up! Know your amazing multifaceted role as the person who shares responsibility in helping future generations succeed. Review the standards here that are most relevant to you. If you feel as if your good-faith lesson plan is being stifled by your administration’s restrictions, advocate for yourself. Cite the NCTE, CCCC or whatever. Again, you – and by extension, your workplace – share an immense responsibility to students. Let’s not fail them. 

Students, you also have self-worth, as much as it feels like the education system tells you otherwise. This means you need to stand up as well. If you think your professor or teacher is not helping you give meaningful feedback, let them know. Advocate for clearer expectations, ask for specific guidance and seek out resources that help you grow as a writer. Your education is not a passive experience. You have the right to demand instruction that challenges and supports you. If the system isn’t giving you what you need, push back, ask questions and remind them that you’re not just here to regurgitate information—you’re here to learn how to think, write and communicate in ways that matter.

Seriously, just have some standards, please. I’m begging. Dating is already hard enough.