Inspiration

The problem with school is that I am writing for school.  I am not writing for myself and therefore all my creative thoughts and magical tingly inspiration writing is on hiatus.  If I were not worrying about writing an intriguing, well-written, thought provoking, impressive one-pager for tonight I would instead being writing about a murder of crows.  

My husband and I like to take walks, find a nice segment of wildlife or some sort of nature and sit and observe. These are usually my most inspirational moments.  Bees copulating, ants swarming and killing a moth to then pull out it's eggs for dinner, crows playing musical chairs in the tree tops.  These are things that I can watch and at the same time let my mind wonder through storyline and characters.  We literally sat for over an hour one picnic watching ants take crumbs of baguette to their colonies.  

I am inspired by animals' actions and if there is any correspondence to humans.  I like to sit and watch people and make up their life stories.  One of my other favorite games is to "talk" for people that you can see but can't hear.  It is much better when you have someone playing this game with you.  

I love cemeteries for quiet.

I love the library for people's movements.

I love the grocery store for interaction.  

I am always inspired by reading.  I love voices and language style.  If I listen to a well-read audio book I will usually talk like the reader for a while without meaning to.  

But when it comes to writing for school- I am not inspired.  I am motivated.  These are two very distinct concepts.  Inspiration is emotional, flighty, unpredictable and for me.  Motivation is driven by my desire for good grades.  

Grammar?

I observed a Jr. High English class this morning and they started with a grammar exercise.  I was thrilled to learn that every day they start with a sentence in need of correction- to teach basic rules. It was also scary because I found myself utterly questioning myself and my instinct in what was grammatically incorrect.  I am going to have to study up on this!

I have opinions on the Oxford comma (YES) and ending in a preposition (A-Ok with me) but I don't know the actual 'rules'.  Do the rules matter?  What do you think?  

Grabbing Clarity

There was this moment in class yesterday where I wanted to hide out under the covers- because I was tickling that point of absolute honesty with my self and my story. It is a frightening feeling. Thank you Mike for being such an open listener- you let me talk through the moment as we workshopped yesterday. It isn't even that horrible of an act, but it is upsetting to me and how I see my character.

The exercise of writing down your thoughts as you write your words was fascinating. I never, EVER realized I thought so much more than what ended on the page. My thoughts (not words) were searching for purpose- for clarity- it was for capturing the scene as it was at that moment. My mind is a hazy dream and I am trying to make sense of the images floating there. Those moments of actuality that happened so long ago.

It got me thinking about this exercise from a language standpoint as well- how I think about meaning and intent when talking. I must do it while writing.   How do you get to the point of free form? I don't know if it exists truly. There are always factors in play. There is always the time of day, the temperature of the room, the desire to get to the next point for me.

The deeper we get into the memoir writing, the more I look forward to talking about how we as English teachers can put a value on it. I love what Bonnie said about grading the presence, not the quality. But there is a level of expectation as well. A level for an age, an individual. When I think of myself as an English Teacher, I think of myself as the type who pushes her students to achieve greatness (by greatness I think I mean discovering something about them-self through writing and reading) . This probably will involve pissing them off sometimes. And their parents. I think I can handle it.

I hope I can.

Creative Non-Fiction in the Classroom

Our discussion on teaching non-fiction, or the personal essay, or memoir- whatever you identify with- really got me thinking about the dynamics of a classroom.  I really did not like the idea of sharing a blog at first, as it is like be forced to read your journal to your classmates.   The more I thought about it, however, the parallel between this task and the actuality of teaching any form of creative non-fiction in a classroom is painfully obvious.


There is an aspect of teaching this area of writing that I felt was missing in the discussion last week- the chance to create a powerful atmosphere of respect and understanding among peers.  I imagine this can be a tricky task as teenagers, all people really, are so quick to laugh at what is uncomfortable or shocking real.  A really well managed writing class could be a safe haven for those struggling to identify who they are.  It could be a moving semester of personal growth.  It could unify people who felt like they never had anything in common until sharing a mutual feeling or experience though a story.   


Has anyone else watched that MTV show "If you Really Knew Me?"   If you haven't, a brief overview:  MTV sends groups of counselors that lead the students (or sometimes just the leaders of the cliques) in a day of sharing exercises.  It challenges the teens to really think about who they are within the context of their High School existence.  It is very powerful. (Pretty much every other show on MTV kills the happiness this one show creates.) 


Maybe a writing teacher needs to think about how they are leading daily challenges.  I was lucky to have amazing writing teachers throughout High School.  My senior year AP class was split into two semester- one semester with one teacher who taught us grammar, form, different necessary writing styles and we ended with a big ethnography project.  The other semester was personal and creative.  It was the most amazing class of writing workshops.  I recently ran into the mother of one of my classmates from this semester. I inquired after her daughter (a girl I would have never been given the opportunity to be friends with outside of this class.  Our social lives, our upbringing, our religion, were not at all in line).  I gave her the context of this class being our connection.  


 "OH" said the mother. "Was that the class with Mrs. D?" 
"Yes!" I said, excited for a conversation about this amazing teacher. "That was the best class, it influenced me in so many positive ways."
The mother paused with eyebrows drawn tight: "That was the class where you knew too much about each other."
I was dumbstruck- she departed.  


It was senior year.  We were all leaving for colleges and starting to find grounding as individuals.  I can recall sitting in Village Inn with my classmates eating breakfast before school and marveling about how I was eating with people I had not even spoken to prior to this writing class. 


That was the whole point. To get to know each other.