To write with authority means to have the confidence to share your knowledge of your particular literacy to others in a discourse community. It means having any sort of courage to say “I know this stuff, and let me show you why.”
This is what I have taken away from Elizabeth Wardle’s essay on “Identity, Authority, and Learning to Write in New Workplaces.” Wardle shares Alan’s unfortunate experience acclimating to a new work environment—a computer specialist working with the humanities department, already a contrast that doesn’t seem like a load of fun. His entire expertise is computers, but the department didn’t take him seriously. The paper makes out Alan’s misfortunes to be entirely his fault because he refused to fit in with the standard writing rules that the department expected of everyone, which was perfect grammar and comprehension.
I will say that fragmented sentences and misplaced punctuation are not a good look in a professional email, especially to a department that involves people like English majors, but I think it’s really unfair to say it’s all completely Alan’s fault. Both parties should have made an effort: Alan on at least writing to the rules of the department in decent grammar and with firm directives, and the department to at least help Alan on what was expected of him instead of mocking him.
Cruel treatment aside, Wardle’s essay shows how authority intertwines with identity, and how that could make or break your reputation in a workplace. If you don’t see yourself as confident in what you’re bringing to the table, despite you having years of knowledge on the subject, your authority on the matter comes into question. It showed when Alan’s own bad grammar undermined his authority on computers, and how his directives were simply disrespected by the department.
I can’t help but think of my English teacher in my senior year of high school. As the AP Literature teacher, we as the students had certain expectations for the way they taught. But they didn’t seem all that confident in the material, and I’d go as far to unfortunately say I don’t think they knew what they were doing. My high school had teachers constantly quitting and being replaced, worst case scenario a teacher for a class never even becomes replaced and the class is forced to sit half the school year in the auditorium because there was no sub (true story!)
My English teacher never led discussions, never prompted us to think outside the box on themes or symbolisms, never even gave constructive criticism on writing assignments. What they did was hand out monthly novels we should be reading, and let us fend for ourselves on what the story probably meant (they sat back in silence for 30 minutes and told us to “discuss”). I hated that class, which takes a lot for me to say as a notorious English-class-lover.
We never outwardly disrespected them, but I know what everybody was saying behind their back— we all hated this particular teacher, and each class was always a chore. Goes to show that even as a supposed authority figure, their lack of teaching with authority jeopardized what the class all thought of them.
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