A Comp Instructor's Take: Code-Meshing or Standard American English? Which Should We Teach College Freshmen?

8 October 2025

This essay is my personal response to a course discussion forum prompt in my Composition I class. The prompt is based on these two essays:

Jenkins, Rob. “We Must Help Students Master Standard English.” Chronicle of Higher Education, 10 Apr. 2018. https://www.chronicle.com/article/we-must-help-students-master-standard-english/.

Young, Vershawn Ashanti. “Should Writers Use They Own English?” Iowa Journal of Cultural Studies, vol. 12, no. 1, pp. 110-117, https://doi.org/10.17077/2168-569X.1095.

Here is the prompt:

Young and Jenkins have distinct views about language use, arguing for different approaches to writing in academic contexts.

How do you understand each author's position regarding how composition classes like ours should approach teaching writing to students? What is each author's argument, and what evidence do they use to support their position? Begin your post by briefly summarizing each author's viewpoints, illustrating your understanding with relevant textual details as much as possible. For guidance on summarizing, paraphrasing, and quoting from sources, refer to this OER chapter (though we will review and practice these skills in future modules).

Then, critically respond to these writers' ideas. Whose argument do you find more persuasive and why? How do you relate to these authors' arguments as a writer taking your first composition class? What are the limitations and affordances of SAE vs. code meshing, and which are you most interested in exploring further in your writing?

What follows is my critical response.

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Code-Meshing v. Standard American English

In his 2010 essay composed in what Young terms “black vernacular,” Young writes that we should incorporate the way we speak into our writing, such that our writing becomes an artifact of what he coins “code-meshing.” His justification for this is that in doing so, “the good result is we gone help reduce prejudice” (117). To support this claim, he relies upon others’ ethos, calling upon a Tweet, an interview, and an article written, respectively, by Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley, Virginia real estate agent Chris Ann Cleland, and New York Times columnist Frank Rich, all of three of which include said code-meshing of colloquialisms and vernacular.

Per Young’s view, any divide between colloquialisms/vernacular and standard English is disappearing, and he thinks that we should take this into account in the College Composition classroom. He writes, “Instead of prescribing how folks should write or speak, I say we teach language descriptively. This mean we should, for instance, teach how language functions within and from various cultural perspectives. And we should teach what it take to understand, listen, and write in multiple dialects simultaneously. We should teach how to let dialects comingle, sho nuff blend together, like blending the dialect Fish speak and the black vernacular that, say, a lot—certainly not all—black people speak” (Young 112).

While I see nothing wrong with Young’s theory, per se, and frankly enjoy the idea of incorporating natural speaking voice into (most certainly) creative writing, I do notice that his perspective and aim lay the bulk of the onus of understanding a text at the feet of the reader; if the reader does not understand the vernacular, or try to understand it, then the fault for miscommunication lays upon the reader—not the writer, as the writer was simply expressing him- or herself as authentically as possible. Which is interesting to me, as I had such difficulty reading his essay at first that I needed to set it aside and come back to it later when my brain was fresh. So. Will this eradicate racism or “reduce prejudice,” as Young claims it will? It feels incumbent upon me to at least raise this question—rhetorically.

Jenkins, of course, represents the opposite perspective to Young’s. In his far-shorter 2018 essay, Jenkins refutes that English itself is discriminatory or racist and that the imposed instruction of a standard English is unjust. Instead, he believes that “one of the best things we can do for students it to help them master standard [American] English.” Jenkins’s claim falls to three main points: 1. Language is a tool students can be taught to use well, 2. A dialect, vernacular, or colloquialism is only as effective in communicating as it is suited to the rhetorical situation (audience), and 3. We cannot assume that everyone will understand anything beyond standard American English, or this will inevitably lead to “confusion, misunderstanding, and false impressions.”

To support his claim, Jenkins appeals to his own ethos, writing broadly about his extensive experience teaching multi-national university classrooms. Jenkins claims to have taught a class of 24 students where between them 17 languages were spoken and how grateful these students were to learn standard American English so that they “could unlock the world of higher-paying employment.” He insists (and I don’t disagree) that writing in standard American English in the workplace may curb the reader from making assumptions about our “competence, our intelligence, our level of education.”

Jenkins also provides a few narrative anecdotes to support his claim (pathos), one including a sharp guy from the Deep South with a Southern drawl whom many employers misperceived to be a “stupid redneck” by the way he sounded. Another example was a potential loan officer he encountered while refinancing his home: this woman’s email came off as flippant with LOLs and emojis, and Jenkins speculated that she was just 14 years old—which seems reasonable but makes me second-guess my own written interactions with my students, where I often include the same or similar. Oops!

Jenkins’ theory lays more of the responsibility of shared understanding at the feet (under the control/agency) of the writer, not the reader. It gives the writer the opportunity to stem any reader’s presuppositions by offering the writer a standard toward which to strive. Frankly, as someone who has too frequently suffered being misunderstood, I’ve felt more aligned with Jenkins’ perspective than Young’s my entire life until recently.

Overall, and possibly in part for internal reasons—I’ve just completed an MFA and feel more aligned with creative writing today than ever—I find Young’s view more persuasive than Jenkins’. In truth, though, both perspectives have their merit given the rhetorical situation. If a student knows their audience, and that student recognizes their audience will be familiar with certain code-meshing, then they can rest assured that their text will not be misunderstood—and they should go for it! Alternatively, if the student is writing for a professional audience or general audience they don’t know personally, where they wish to be perceived with ethos and not misunderstood, then adhering to certain standards is critical. In creative writing, the intent is always and forever for the author to express themselves most authentically; in this case, code-meshing is key. I just read The Miseducation of Cameron Post, and Emily Danforth code-meshes throughout the novel to emulate the thoughts and speech patterns of a teenager in 1993. As for my own writing, I will continue to write like me. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’m very good at code-meshing, as I’m not entirely convinced I’m very effective at being a human at all, really.