The ink in my red pens runs out fast. My peer reviews are infamous—I return drafts with so much criticism that the white of the printer paper is barely visible. I am a strong believer that almost any piece of writing could benefit from more criticism. I   say “piece of writing” because critiquing writing is distinct from critiquing the writer. In fact, embracing this detachment can go a long way in improving a student's writing quality.

As a student, I have been on the receiving end of a lot of red ink. The first draft of my first paper of 9th grade, an analysis of    George Orwell’s 1984, was deeply flawed. I asked Thea DeBellis, a junior on the soccer team, to look at the draft. Her most memorable comment: cut the entire second body paragraph and half of the first one. There were only two paragraphs.

I returned to my document feeling lost, staring at the hundreds of words I was told to delete. I reread my annotations in search of new passages to analyze and new angles to pursue. The labor of starting over was substantial and disheartening, but it ultimately produced a much better paper than even the best version of the original draft could have become. 

 My most consistent writing consultant was Aiden Gandhi, a   senior on the debate team. He was a word economy hawk:   nearly every comment left on my drafts was a strikethrough of a   word or sentence and a concise “not necessary” in the sidebar. 

 I’ve requested feedback like Aiden’s and Thea’s from teachers,   peers, and other Writing Center consultants I met with over the   past three years. Although sometimes I disagreed with   their comments, figuring out why I disagreed was also helpful in                                                             refining the central arguments of my papers.

For the same reason, I hate the obligatory “compliment sandwich.” I believe compliments are good when they    tell you what to emulate in the rest of your paper: a well-developed argument, structure, or analysis. However, most of what I see in peer review is compliments for the sake of diluting criticism. Taking time to applaud the writer’s thesaurus mining or saying something was a    “bar” without explanation gets the paper nowhere. 

 In a study of the classes of experienced ESL writing teachers,   researchers found that “students are adept at recognising formulaic   positive comments which serve no function beyond removing the sting   from criticisms, and do not generally welcome empty remarks.” For   students, such compliments feel insincere and “useless” in many cases,   because the reason students ask for feedback is to figure out what they   can improve.

However, I don’t believe being mean or disrespectful in a peer review is helpful. Instead, I encourage the delivery and acceptance of candid feedback, which doesn’t necessarily entail drowning a page in red ink. Several thoughtful, constructive comments can do the trick, even if one of them is a massive “X” through half your paper and an explanation on why it’s wholly unsalvageable. 

In a synthesis of existing literature on Gen Z’s attitudes towards learning, researchers concluded that problem-based learning, an approach centered around constructive criticism, has been effective in developing critical thinking skills in Gen Z. Reducing the perceived power dynamic between teachers and students is important to the effectiveness of this method because it makes students more receptive to feedback. As such, critical feedback from peers can be a valuable tool because students begin the review process on relatively equal footing. 

While I understand that some students might hesitate to go to the Writing Center or release their draft into the chaos of an in-class peer review, I would argue that constructive criticism from your peers is the best kind, because it shows they are invested in your success. 

As a peer reviewer, giving constructive criticism can be uncomfortable, even in cases where there’s “nothing to lose.” A study of 212 people found that “people tend to focus on the discomfort of delivering feedback, and underestimate the value of the feedback to the other person.” The researchers suggest “the other person wants it more than you think.” From both sides of the review process, awkwardness is likely a sign of mutual care. 

In other words, don’t hold back. We could all stand to go through a few more red pens.