Writing Out Loud
Or Why I Love being a Writing Teacher
Writing Out Loud was the title of the thesis for my master’s program in Education. It is also pretty much the theme of all my writing classes since, whether I was in front of a workshop of educators, squirmy kindergarteners, sullen middle schoolers or accomplished seniors. (AARP seniors, not high school, although I’ve been in those classes, too.) I always use exercises in my classes and I always encourage reading the students’ work aloud. It’s not mandatory, but I encourage it because I believe it’s the best way to learn to hear one’s own writing voice. In fact, I don’t consider myself a writing “teacher” but more of a facilitator; encouraging the reluctant writer to dig deeper in order to become confident in their own writing.
The following is a sample of one of the exercises I use. The student is one of my “regulars.” She says she’ll come to any class I teach; she says it’s for the inspiration and I think maybe a little for the familiarity, too. When she first began coming to my classes, she rarely read aloud and was content to engage in the assignments privately and the discussions openly. She is now perfectly comfortable sharing her work in class and her voice is unique and strong. She’s not crazy about submitting her pieces for publication and says her work is for herself and those she loves. The other day in class, I used an exercise that has the writers look at a picture of a person (and they are random pictures I’ve taken from magazines) and then write a response. They get about 5 minutes — no editing, just writing. Afterwards, as usual, I asked if they wanted to share. When this student read her piece, I asked if I could share it on my site. She agreed. I continue to be astounded by the places she is willing to go to find her voice; her work emphasizes for me that I am not a “teacher” but a participant in a learning experience from which we all benefit. I could never have taught her to write like this; this is all her. Her name is Judy. The picture she wrote to is above.
The exercise: Look at the picture of this person. After a minute, answer the question, “Who Am I?” in the first person. (As if you were the person talking.)
“I am looking at a busy street and wondering what I will encounter. My leather jacket protects me from the cold but will the white woman I pass on the street automatically clutch her purse closer to her as we pass? I have a master’s degree and I am headed to teach an undergrad class in mathematical theory, but she looks at me thinking perhaps I have a weapon in the pocket where my hands are thrust just to keep them warm. I try to kind of smile, but if I make eye contact will she see that as leering and aggression? So I just look above her head and keep on walking. We have come past the times when I am expected to tip the hat I am wearing in deference to her but when — if ever — will we come to an understanding that assumptions are not only wrong they are soul crushing. Lady, look! I walked past you and you still have your purse but do I have my dignity?”
— Judy G. August 2019