The Power of Words... continues

Wow! We had a terrific discussion in Creative Writing class today. I started it off with a journal “Blogs… Have you read some? What were they about? What do you write about? Do you think blogs can be useful or not, and why or why not?”

It did not take long for the shower of arrows to ensue…

We don’t all take care of our parents, just some of us.

You made us sound like we’re stupid and can’t write.

Children don’t see their first flush toilet at the school; they see it at the clinic or the hospital.

We talk to our friends, to our family, to our moms.

… and on it went. A group of students opened up with questions and comments while others looked on, avidly, even shifting in their desks to get a better view of me and my replies. When the questions turned to topics from the comments on the “The Power of Words” blog, I simply said that I could not and would not defend others’ remarks, letting them know that I posted every comment made – no edits, no preferential treatment. I explained that I could only stand by my blog post.

I told them that I had ordered actual composition books for them to start using as personal journals (they should be here next week). I think that asking them to blog on topics about which they are passionate is too much to ask. It’s too public of a forum at this stage.

One student asked me if I intended to write a book. “Yes, “ I answered, explaining that I’ve already written one book (unpublished, as of yet) and have every intention of writing more. That’s what I want to be when I grow up, after all, a writer (one who can actually support themselves by writing). I explained that I have 43 years worth of stories to tell, not just stories from the past seven months.

To assume that this 43, almost 44, year old just showed up in their classroom, green and without a background is a wrong assumption. I have first-hand experience with sexual, emotional, and physical abuse. I taught in south Louisiana during Hurricane Katrina. I have had students in my classroom who were plucked off of rooftops in New Orleans and were now sleeping on a bare mattress on the floor of a local church, with no knowledge of where the rest of their family was, or if they were even alive. I have had a student who volunteered in the Katrina cleanup effort and saw “too much” and then committed suicide because he couldn’t handle what he saw. I have had the son of a convicted serial killer, sitting on death row, in my classroom. I’ve taught on a reservation where teens died in alcohol-related car accidents. I’ve had a student bring her baby to class because she had no childcare but wanted to graduate from high school. I’ve coached Swimming, Basketball, and DDF (Drama, Debate, Forensics). I’ve lived in six states, taught in three, and moved more times than I care to count. I have been through more than one custody battle, successfully, and raised my two daughters for almost 13 years on my own. I’ve had three stepfathers, two of which were wicked men, at least in my eyes, and that’s the biggest reason I chose not to remarry while raising my kids.

I have a lifetime of stories to tell, and it’s not over yet! I told them that they’d never meet a less judgmental, more open-minded, tolerant person. I told them not to be afraid of the truth. I told them how much I value their opinions and points of view. I even told them the story of a 9^th grade student I had in Homer who did a persuasive speech on how bad single parenting is for kids (obviously from a conservative/traditional family). She was visibly shaking as she got up to give that speech, knowing my background as a single parent. Yet, she stood her ground, gave that speech, and earned every bit of an ‘A.’ I earned her trust that day.

Once I unloaded this synopsis to my students, they opened up. “You never told us that before,” they said.

I didn’t think I had to. Now, it’s their turn.