I needed a few days worth of reflection before I touched on this subject, as I had experienced a very strong emotional reaction to the power that words have over us. Now that I've had a little distance from the experience, I think that I can write this without crying.
Last Thursday was the final meeting time for the Eastern Michigan Writing Project in which I had participated for four weeks. The culminating classroom activity was a read through of the pieces we all placed in the course anthology. Each person read their piece, whether it was fiction, poetry, or a personal narrative. Four weeks previous to this read through, we were 19 people who were essentially strangers to each other. Sure, a couple of us were lucky enough to already know another person in class (me and Jason, Liz and Nick, Karla and Jessica), but the rest were completely unknown entities. We didn't know if the personalities in the room would click. We didn't know if someone was going to be ultra-sensitive about certain topics. We didn't know if someone was going to be a stick in the mud. Yet, as we completed our time together, each read his/her piece aloud, sometimes with quivering voices.
This is the power that language holds over us. As several of the participants stated, they had written, edited, and revised their pieces several times. When the time came to give a voice to our words, many were overcome by the emotions wrought by the events described. Why is that? What is it about the telling of an important life experience that evokes tears? I can look at and hold the outfit that Andrew was wearing the day I first held him and simply smile. But, as I sit here and write this (full-disclosure, I read aloud to myself as I write), I weep with joy at just the thought of the object.
I think, and I'm sure I'm not the only one, that writing pours all of our vulnerabilities out on the table for all to see. It is like cutting open a vein to see what essential drips out of us. That is scary. Who wants to let strangers in and view our weaknesses? This is the job of a writer, however. That has never been more patently clear to me than after the past four weeks. My job is to find that truth that courses through my body and emancipate it. I'm not sure that I am wholly ready to face those truths. They will forever alter my life's trajectory once I let them go. My writing will be incomplete until those truths are free. I guess I should let freedom ring.
2 comments:
That was really moving. I must say I can't agree with you more. I am so happy that you had such a powerful moment with writing project. Lord knows that it was as such for myself.
I think your ideas for next year are great. I look forward to sharing mine with you. I definitely believe that reading more is the most beneficial vocabulary tool we can give them. I too have come to the same realisation that there is no magic bullet that can be purchased (a conclusion also reached after a similar feeble attempt at looking for the perfect program tool). There are some great resources available for accessing texts for struggling readers that I am eager to try that may be of help since we have difficulties with limitations in resource material costs and textual access.
I have also been thinking that we ought to strengthen our plans for our core curriculum with focusing in on a lens utilising social justice philosophy. Our project introduced us to some really intriguing material.
Thanks Val. I always think that I gear every assignment with the slant of what can you do for the world, what 's your place in the world. I'd like a more explicit lean towards social justice - that way they can change their own world.
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