Then I proceed to draw my famous OreoÒ cookie diagram on the board to describe how they should set up their five-paragraph essay. The top layer of the cookie is the introduction, with at least five sentences. The first sentence of the introduction is the “hook,” that is, the story or statistic that will get the reader's attention. The next three sentences are the three “preview points,” previewing the topics of the following three paragraphs. The fifth sentence is the thesis statement, the claim they are attempting to prove. I tell them to write the introductory paragraph after they have written the three paragraphs of the body.
The body of the essay (the creamy filling) consists of three paragraphs on three aspects of the main topic. Bla bla bla. I tell them to make sure each paragraph is focused on one aspect and roughly five sentences. And then, using the whiteboard marker, I draw some lines to connect the topic sentences of each paragraph back to the preview points in the introduction. I assume that because I am a visual learner, everyone else is, too. At this point, I usually turn and look at the students. Are they drawing my diagram in their notebooks? Yes! My work is done. Are they texting on their smart phone? Give up now, it's hopeless.
I tell them to cheat on the closing paragraph. “Just copy the introductory paragraph!” I smirk. “Rephrase the three preview points, reaffirm your conclusion about the claim (did you prove it?), and wrap up with the hook you opened with. Voila!” At that point, they look at me like I'm insane. Probably they didn't take French in high school.
“And don't forget,” I warn them, “Your works cited page is always the last page of your essay! Not a separate file, not the next paragraph, no! Insert a manual page break! Hanging indent! Use the OWL!” I'm sure you agree, after seeing the cookie diagram, the five-paragraph essay should be a piece of cake. Cookie. Whatever. The five-paragraph structure should be clear, right? But what do you think happens?
The brutal truth: It's a good thing I'm not an English instructor, because I'd have to kill myself. The results this term have been less then stellar. Typically, I'm getting a four-paragraph essay in which the writer takes off on a personal rant in the introduction. Preview points: non-existent. The body: random thoughts and uncited quotes stolen from Web sources. Closing paragraph: missing completely. Works cited: starts half-way down page 2, consisting of all two of the Web sites visited, perhaps with URLs, and displaying grievously incorrect formatting. In one case, the hanging indent was imitated using spaces, a novel solution requiring many unnecessary keystrokes, but when you are getting paid by the hour, who cares.
Confoundingly, out of six people, two have turned in nothing. Nothing. Apparently the task of writing five paragraphs is so overwhelming they chose paralysis over mediocrity. Can't say I blame them, been there, done that. But this is college, I'm the instructor, and it's my job to motivate/beat/shame/bribe them into doing something. Anything. Who cares if your paragraphs are straightforward and reasonably short. Just write something!
