WINNEMUCCA - In a classroom where I volunteer students responded to a prompt of their greatest wish. While a few wanted XBox360s and PS3s, the majority had desires that were far deeper and significant to life. Several wrote about wanting to visit grandparents who lived far away. They struggled to figure out ways and means so that this dream could come true. Others had grandparents, aunts, or uncles who were deceased. While they recognized that seeing these individuals alive again was "impossible," several still held to the idea that sometimes the "impossible" becomes possible. Some students described missing parents. No, not deceased, but rather a mom or dad who had abandoned them. One girl stated, "I just want to ask why?" She admitted that everyone had told her dad was no good, had no job, and was not nice, but in her heart she thought there might be hope that when he saw her, everything would change. She also explained how she looked forward to being old enough to legally change her last name to that of her stepfather. "He loves me." How does a teacher encourage students to write with such sincerity and honesty? To begin with there must be trust between the writer and the reader. These students obviously love and trust their teacher. Although they are young and more open to complete displays of intense feelings (compared to high schoolers who tend to hide their deepest thoughts), they also know that they are safe to share their inner tickings. Even though I am only in their classroom once a week, they also feel confident enough to let me read their work and add these to our end-year book. My eighth graders wrote magnificent pieces on an array of topics. They shared grief, shock, anger, bewilderment, and pure joy. My husband often wondered why they would write with such heartfelt truthfulness about subjects of confidentiality. I do not know all of the reasons why, but I do know I felt honored. Sometimes parents came to my classroom and asked to read a son's/daughter's papers. I always had to say, "We must get permission first." All seemed to accept this, even when the child said, "No, Mom and Dad, I am not ready to share this." I tried to reassure parents that the writing was intensely personal but nothing scary, worrisome, nothing illegal or dangerous. Youngsters write from the hidden corners of the soul with amazing frankness. They address the point and do not riddle with clichés or added blah. The clarity and simplicity are boggling. They often just need and want to get words onto paper, emotions into black and white, to settle scores with a outpouring of words. Some children are ready to delineate profound secrets and aches on paper and then share them with others; most children are not. So if your child is busily engaged in writing but is unwilling to let you read it, remember that it is often to protect you. Kids may be injured but they rarely want to pass that pain on those they love. Writing is safe, secure, and simple. One can share if one desires, but it is not a necessity. The benefits of deep expression of inner thoughts are healing. I participated in a writing class with a roomful of unknown teachers. Instructors encouraged us to scribble our buried ideals and ideas onto our sheets and then read them aloud to our partner. While I respected the instructors and liked my partner, I knew my paper lacked integrity. No gut spilling moment would occur with strangers in my midst. I always tried to pass this security to my students: to write openly knowing no one had to read it except me, their teacher. They did and they permitted me flickering glimpses of secret, sacred reflections. How can you set the writing bug loose? From the beginning, even when the pencil in the hands of the babe results in unknown markings, simply ask, "What does this say?" The author will speak, designing a tale of unimaginable description. Each evening discuss events of the day, including your own. Describe how things looked, smelled, felt, tasted, and how they rolled out to the world. Write together, write honestly, respect boundaries, and demonstrate how to share when appropriate and why sometimes you cannot. To create a writer, be a writer. To be a writer you must... write![[In-content Ad]]
