The problem I've always had with theory, whether it was a theory of reading or writing, literature or education, is its practicality. How can I use this in my teaching, researching, or writing? If I can't see a connection fairly quickly, then I'm tempted to dump it in the "never going to use this again" file in my brain (This file is deleted as soon as I sleep or no longer need it for an upcoming test or paper.).
I know that I should have a thorough awareness of how composition has developed and why it has changed over the years. These readings make sense to me, even though their use to me is that I shouldn't make the same mistakes that have occurred in the past. If only our politicians could learn from our own history as easily. Nevertheless, much of composition theory seems more concerned with artifice than the art of teaching.
In a sense, studying theory is like looking at a beautifully crafted Faberge egg. The theorists have devoted hours of work to create a wonderful theory, built carefully using only the best rhetoric and practice. My problem is that I need to make an omelet, and while delightful to behold, the Faberge egg is neither tasty nor nutritious.
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My main frustration with theory is a by-product of the individual theory. Individual theories rarely make sense if one is not acquainted with the much larger theoretical landscape of which they are maybe a little sapling on a far hill. I also believe the study of theory yields usable information parallel to the amount of commitment or enthusiasm one brings to the theory.
As I see it, tackling theories requires, among many other things, one to place themselves temporarily in the landscape, look around, contemplate and absorb the grass and sky first then walk over to the little sapling and try to understand its significance within the much larger and complex world of which it is part.
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