End of the Year: The Beautiful

 

As educators, we don't always get to see the power of the work we do. We are not always in a position to be able to have autonomy of curriculum, or freedom to build the kinds of relationships we want to. Some days (or weeks) we are required to test. Policymakers seek to limit what is allowed in classrooms, from books to the very identities of the educators. This year I was fortunate in many ways, but I can brag on my school for its commitment to offering content and arts-based electives like creative writing classes. 

This year I taught a class of six students in Writer's Workshop; these were some of the most gifted writers and students in the whole school. What we built was a community wholly different than anything I've ever seen in a high school class. What we had was something much closer to a college writing course. Because of the caliber of students, I worried frequently about what I was actually able to teach. The salutatorian as well as another very gifted senior were taking the class. I had previously taught the latter in a dramatic writing course, and one student, a Junior, was taking her third course with me. I knew that if I wanted to make full use of this opportunity I would need to shrug off (and burn) as much of the traditional "doing school" approach to learning as possible. What I wanted to offer them was a series of learning experiences.

The first semester we largely just explored our writing identities. We wrote poetry, short stories, and other writing exercises. We always shared our writing in a feather circle. This is a ritualized practice where we sit in a circle and pass a feather stick. We'd share what we had written - the only person allowed to speak in the circle was the reader who had the feather stick. The class built an identity of its own: a community of writers.

In the second semester, we started getting more exploratory. We started reading more and alternated between choice books and class novels. We read some great young adult literature (YAL) like Bill Konigsberg's Openly Straight and later Zoomed with him. We read Maus, by Art Spiegleman, during the Holocaust Remembrance while lawmakers worked to actively ban the book from classrooms across the country at the same time. The response to the novel I had left completely open - students could choose from a list of over 100 responses or even come up with their own. The student featured here chose to do an illustration. They wrote reflections about their choices as well as what they gained from the book. This was several months ago. I Tweeted about the art and the project, but I didn't expect to see this piece again.

Time went on and we did several more amazing projects. I started working with Dr. Goss from Kennesaw State University, and we began using art to respond to our reading and purposefully disrupt spaces. This would become our Truisms project, which you can find linked HERE.

We ended the year making collages into envelopes with Mail Art by David Wilson. Dr. Goss was truly fundamental in helping to transform the purpose of the work we were doing. We moved it from being classroom community-focused to creating a difference in our school community. 

The student who wrote the above letter told me that she was writing to her brother. When I saw her today in the hallway she handed me this red folder. The letter holder was custom made, as well as the three-ring hole punches and yarn that holds it all together. The level of design and craft was not lost on me and is a perfect example of the ethic of care and attention this student pours into every assignment. 

I don't have words for the letter. Truly, I'm speechless. What does it mean, though, for a student as bright and brilliant - truly our best - to have these comments to say about "compulsory education" her voice, and having lost her love of reading and writing? The commentary here is so clear from a perspective that matters most. If this is how our most "plugged in" are feeling, then what must it be like for the student struggling to even show up to class? While I am so blessed to have been her teacher, to be able to work with mad scientists like Dr. Goss and to have the space to be able to create the space for students this semester...what happens to students who don't get this opportunity? What does it mean to truly lose your voice? I'm so glad she is on the path to finding it and finding out how to wield it. I'm so glad the fire is coming back and the passion for education is still burning. I truly cannot express how touched I am by this letter, or the year I have had working with her and the brilliant six students that were in my class all year. I do have words to say that we need to keep providing learning experiences for our students at all costs. We do need to make sure that all students are seen. We need to help students practice using their voices in a variety of ways for a variety of purposes. We have to see our students and help them re-envision themselves.

The students chose to end the year with a letter to the next Writer's Workshop. I think they said it best, so I'll end this year with their words. I'm so very excited to pass it on.