Feedback: What It Isn't

At the beginning of each school year, I introduce the idea of feedback to my students. I explain often that feedback is not correction. Unless an error is so glaring that it detracts from meaning, I discourage students from pointing out spelling, punctuation, or capitalization needs when we are talking about feedback. Instead, I hope that they will offer things they gleaned from their active listening. Their feedback should be proof of listening, really listening as their partner was reading aloud.

More important than what feedback is, I like to give them examples of what feedback isn’t. Here are a few examples of things that are not feedback.

-“It was good.” This does nothing to help the writer. What was good? Where? What does good even mean? The writer hears this, says, “Thanks,” and then…nothing happens.

-“It needs more detail.” Again, this sort of vague non-suggestion is not helpful. At all. I don’t know what it means. Detail where? Detail about what?

-“It needs more description.” Again, this is not feedback. This actually tells the writer that their partner was not listening. Description of what? Why? What else does the reader need to know? Now, this comment might grow up and become feedback. “I wish you had given more description of the alley where your character was being followed,” is a good suggestion. Showing the setting instead of telling about it can lead to good writing, if this visual description is relevant.

In all of the above non-feedback comments, no help was given. No real thought about the writing was brought to light. It was simply a waste of the reader’s and the writer’s time. And no day in our classes should be a waste of time.

I like to ask my students to focus on something specific in their feedback. There is more on this in Shoes and Boxes and Peanuts and Keys. The basic idea is to react positively or negatively to a specific sentence or phrase or word in the writing. In this way, the writer knows that true listening occurred. There is also something concrete to look at and either fix where it is or repeat in another place.

I ask my students to practice giving feedback with me first, before working with a writing partner. If anyone offers the comment, “That was good,” I thank them. Then I make an obnoxious buzzer-like noise, telling them clearly that this comment was not feedback. It was nice, but it was not feedback. As students become braver, and as they give me real feedback, I write down their suggestions, comments, and questions. And I do use them, but not always, as I rewrite and draft. I find that, for me, the questions that students ask me about my writing give me the biggest help. But this will be another blog entry.