I was always a good English student.
I have a propensity for language, and my English teachers always looked like what I wanted to be when I grew up. I earned A's in every course I've ever taken in regards to writing. I was the editor of my high school newspaper, the editor of my college student newspaper, I became an English teacher and an adviser of our high school's student newspaper, and blah, blah blah--you get the picture.
I'm an English nerd.
I tell you all of this (with a nagging sense that this is not nearly humble enough language for a farmer's daughter) not to impress you in any way (plus, I'm certain it doesn't anyway), but to show you that by the world's standards--I am a writer, and I know how to write. While on the outside this seems to be the case, I can tell you with honesty that gets at my guts to the point of tears--that I was never under stood much about writing, and I was never truly a writer until participating in the Nebraska Writing Project over the summer of 2010. Sure, I knew about commas and all that stuff--but writing, real writing, I hadn't the foggiest.
I chose to participate in the institute largely because of emphatic encouragement from colleagues. Also, prior to this time, I began work on my doctorate, and in numerous pieces that we read about what "works" in teacher professional development, the writing project was held up again and again as something that actually works. I certainly haven't read everything, but as an erudite who loves to read about education, there is so very little written about things that actually work time and again. As educational researchers we're forever searching for the "magic" concoction that makes the very nuanced human interaction of classroom learning work. I knew it cognitively before the institute, and I have now come to know it through experience: The Writing Project works.
This institute changed the way that I see students, the way I see writing, and the way that I interact with my writing classroom. It made me a better teacher, not in a touchy feely way, but in a pragmatic, rubber-meets-the-road, day to day teaching practice way. I am so thankful that I was able to take part in this month of professional development.
I have to admit something, before I continue to write anything else--I am not a political person. In fact, whenever I see the polarized discussions taking place, especially during election season, I opt to turn toward anything that gets away from polar extremes and resembles honest to goodness conversation.
But. . .
On March second of this year, I learned that President Obama signed a bill eliminating direct federal funding for the National Writing Project.
This makes me think about running for office.
Certainly I'm joking as I have no political background, but I'm sure you hear my point that this is one of the first issues where I truly feel that I need to speak out to my government. My own life experience is directly in opposition to this decision. One of my favorite educational writers, Paulo Frere, talks about the pedagogy of the oppressed, where in some ways the best education is that which creates freedom and gives power to the powerless.
I mean this not as hyperbole, but as a reality I have experienced--the daily conditions of teaching--whether in a great school or a poorly performing school--even if you love it--can in many ways feel oppressive. Of course there are glimpses of light, ah-ha moments that keep us diligently working and striving on, but reality of teaching vastly different students in large quantities is difficult. This is no secret, but I must some how convey this in words. So many teachers experience this difficulty (sadly many of them are too busy with the stuff of teaching to write blog posts such as these). Professional development in many ways is an attempt to free teachers a bit--to give them an ounce of power over their subject areas and classrooms. The National Writing Project freed me--and I know many others--to see my own subject matter clearly enough to teach it. There is a freedom that comes from deep understanding.
Currently, I work with pre-service teachers at the University of Nebraska, and I want to jump up and down to get them to see that writing is so much more when they spout about how their objective is to get their kids to fill in a five paragraph essay organizer. For some reason, even with all that jumping, I cannot get them to see what I see. The only way for them to see is to experience the Writing Project for themselves. For their future students, and for the many teachers who have not yet been a part of a Writing Project, I encourage the Department of Education to continue what they have done for the last twenty years, and support the National Writing Project.
As I have been reading "On Writing," I've found myself again and again drawn back to the idea of myself as writer. I came to this realization of identity during the Nebraska Writing Project, and it was emboldened throughout the dissertation writing project. I had a piece to work on, I was constantly jotting notes in my little notebook, and begrudgingly dragging my computer to the coffee house or my sunroom at early hours in the morning. While I hated this time in my life, I've now found myself missing that piece of identity. I've written a few blog posts, a few poems, but I have this burning need to be working on something bigger--to have a project. I've planted a garden, made plans for creating a baby quilt, but nothing seems to satiate the need. I need words.
