Advice to a Young Writer(?)

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Quotefancy-2806954-3840x2160We set writing goals for the semester and year in my classroom.  Many students set a goal of “organization” or “focus.”  These are natural goals for any writer, but what I often find is that they are masks for “I want to write more efficiently.  I want to write right the first time.”  Below is one such goal, and my response to it.

(Of course, I am not the only English teacher in the world, in all of time, who has sought to counsel such students, but this is my student, and this is my response…with strong thanks to my mentors:  Mark R., my 11th grade American Lit. teacher who introduced me to Freewriting and gave me his copy of Peter Elbow’s Writing with Power; Bard College’s “Institute for Writing and Thinking” where I have grown more as a writer and teacher of writing than any place else; and to Mr. Peter Elbow himself, in whom I’ve found a mentor and kindred spirit.)

“My goal for the marking period is to organize my writing better. I need to focus on putting my thoughts out in a clear format that makes sense and is in order. This means leaving out pointless information and recognizing the sequence that the paragraphs should be in. I’m really interested in working on creative writing or writing poetry, and it would help if I was able to write in a succinct manner in my writing without having to redo entire sections. I can recognize a lot of mistakes in writing, but the sequence of ideas is not one. My thoughts are sporadic, so are my ideas in writing. So my goal is to try and organize my thoughts in my writing so that a can write something that makes sense.”  –E….

E…,

I admire this goal as it seeks to discover a means for writing that is “easier.”  I’ll reply with a quotation attributed to, among others, Ernest Hemingway, one of our great writers of the 20th century:  “It is easy to write. Just sit in front of your typewriter and bleed.”

If you want to get things done and just be done with them and not worry about the quality of your thoughts or the craft of your words, then writing is easier than bleeding.  Organizationally the trick is to come up with some key ideas (Claims you want to make) organize them around a central thesis, and organize their order from least important to greatest, or from closest to most distant, (or vice versa, depending upon the topic), or order them from self, to community, to world.  Or from oldest to newest.  There are even more ways…but those are the key ones.  See, it’s easy, just like I said.  😉  But remember, that doesn’t take the measure of the quality of your ideas or the quality of your writing.

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The hard truth, however, is that nothing great was ever written with ease.  It is always a struggle, or perhaps a learning to dance with our selves and who takes the lead.  Perhaps that’s cold comfort to you and your goal, but the upshot is this:  to get better at writing, you must write, and not for a grade, but you must write for yourself, to please yourself.  If your writing is boring to you it will be so to the reader.  To do this well, you must find your voice.  To find your voice, you must write.  And so you’ve circled back. But none of this is unfamiliar to any artist.  And writing is an art–you must find your own way through it.  Here is one way to conceive of the act….

Peter Elbow breaks the writing process into two parts, “Growing” and “Cooking.”  One does not grow ideas and concepts in direct and linear ways, in ways that are totally organized as they leave the pen.  It is an organic process, like the growth of a vine of peas.  It wanders, meanders, finds new pathways…but it is always rooted in one place to begin…though it may find new roots elsewhere.  Only when that growth has been given time and distance can it bear fruit which we then take and “cook” under the heat of editing, organization, and pruning back all our wandering meandering ideas.  This will allow us to strengthen our original idea (the vine) and promote more growth.

That’s a lot to get, but it’s important to understand writing, at least in my class, as a craft, not a science.  I’m teaching you to write for learning, not write to demonstrate learning.  In AP Human or AP Gov/Euro you’ll write a lot…but most of that is artless writing to demonstrate learning or simply to rehearse ideas and cement learning (as writing is a good way to do that).  That’s not what I’m about in this class, though I will teach you simple ways to go about it.

Right now you simply need to spend the time upfront to develop and grow your ideas, find your center(s) of gravity(ies) and then work toward pruning and editing and reorganizing.  

If beauty is not skin deep, then beautiful writing is also not superficial.  

 In the end, I will urge you to follow this goal you’ve set, but only with the understanding that growing ideas is painstaking, heartbreaking, joyous, amazing, time-consuming work that requires a full-bodied attention to the world and the works around you.  It is hard, but good, honest, rewarding work.  All humans deserve to devote the time and effort to these rewards.

Such I will grant you in this class.

Education as a Gift Economy

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I originally posted this piece in 2012 to the group blog “Cooperative Catalyst” (a wonderful site where I first met David Loitz, John Spencer, Paul Freedman (of the Salmonberry School) and other amazing educators.  Having just read another amazing article by Arthur Chiaravalli on his journey to gradelessness, I was reminded of the notion of teaching and learning as a type of economy.  I’m reviving this article here as I’d like to think it might spark some discussion regarding the “economies” of education, especially given all the recent and growing criticisms of the “neoliberal agenda” in the realm of education.  (See here, here, and, most importantly in our Trumpian world, here for more on this interesting critique.)

Merry Christmas…

Einstein Teaching

In a monthly meeting at my middle school, we were discussing the issue of grades and homework.  I thought this bit from Prof. Einstein might offer some way of illuminating part of the discussion we were having, but it has led me even further down a wondrous rabbit hole, so far it demanded a blog post of me.

I’ll begin with an assumption, namely that parents don’t send our children to school with the solitary belief that after 12 years and college they’ll land a solid job and make more money than we ourselves do and thus perpetuate a sort of social mobility that, for a large portion of the population, doesn’t even exist anymore.  We send them to school because we believe, whether we know it or not, that a public education will provide the sort of well-rounded, liberal education that will help our children grow into good people.  Thus, when a teacher tells my oldest child, as his kindergarten teacher did once, that school is his job, well…I bristle and my wife has to hold me back from making a scene and assuring a dire future for “the children of that man.”

As regards Einstein’s observation, the assumption is couched in these words: “Never regard study [read, “school”] as a duty [read, “job”] but as the enviable opportunity to learn to know the liberating influence of beauty in the realm of the spirit for your own personal joy and to the profit of the community to which your later work belongs.”  Too often students do see study as a duty and only that.  It is our job as teachers to change that perspective, to enlighten them, which is, so far as I’m concerned, the ultimate end of education–light:  light for ourselves, but also light for the community.  Education, then, is not about racing to the top and “winning” (whatever that means/looks like it probably has something to do with grades and test scores), which so far as I can tell is a very solitary thing…solitary, competitive and hardly healthy for our children, our system, our world.

You see, I agree with Einstein’s framing teaching as a gift.  Several years ago I attended a one-day conference at Bard College’s Institute for Writing and Thinking called, “Why Write?”  Which was, of course, about why we (teachers) write and teach writing.  The common text we studied for the conference was a book by Lewis Hyde called, The Gift: Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World.  

The GiftHyde’s premise is that there are some human endeavors (the arts, obviously, but I include teaching in that group) that escape the traditional exchange economies of “I give you money…you give me a good or a service.” Teaching, as I mentioned, is not, or rather, ought not be thought of as part of an exchange economy.  Rather, it is part of a “gift economy” (I defer now to Wikipedia’s explanation):  For Lewis Hyde, the gift is an object that must continuously circulate throughout a society in order to keep its gift qualities. In this way the gift perishes for the person who gives it away, even though the gift itself is able to live on precisely because it has been passed on. He calls this the “paradox of the gift”: even though it is used up, it is not extinguished. This gift exchange is responsible for establishing connections and emotional ties between people which in turn serve as a basis for community and social cohesion.

“The gift lives on because it has been passed on….”  Tell me that’s not teaching.  I don’t impart knowledge.  No.  It is not that that “perishes for the [teacher] who gives it away.”  Rather, I impart a way of being in the world, a way of approaching problems and paradoxes and conundrums and to say (paraphrasing Einstein again) that the mystery is the most miraculous thing we can experience.  Teaching is a strange gift, though, in that I feel no sense of loss, nothing perishes with the gift I offer, perhaps because I truly offer nothing.  I’m simply revealing themselves to themselves…Awakening the genius, if you will.  And it is that sense of genius that is part and parcel to this “way of being” over which I wax so poetic.

Back to Einstein, then:  “Teaching should be such that what is offered is perceived as a valuable gift….”  It is, for many of us, a perspective flip that requires great effort…to view teaching as part of a gift economy and to view the student as something more than a repository for all the weighty hopes, fears, lies, dreams, wishes and anxieties we ourselves have about the future and “the real world.”  When we teach that way, we rob children of their own lives and potential in the name of some perceived future which, in all truth, we can never see with any clarity.  But when we offer ourselves, our art, as a gift, then we offer them the chance to know the “liberating influence of beauty in the realm of the spirit.”

I know the difficulty of the perspective flip that precedes the offering and the truth of the gift economy–that one need not ever accept a gift.  Thus, just as in the capitalist economic model where a student need not “buy” what a teacher is selling, the same is true of the gift economy–the student need not accept the gift.  But oh!  How much more simple it is to accept when nothing is required in return.