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.