A New Semester

A student once told me after a writing critique that she felt like she was on American Idol and I have to admit there is a little bit of that feeling for me each semester especially on the first night of class. Like American Idol's talent judges, I can't help but make some snap assessments based on first impressions. Often I am wrong, assuming that a student will be disinterested or their writing too pedantic, based solely on their appearance. I love it when I am wrong. I love giving them that first assignment -- tonight appropriately enough I asked them to write on first impressions -- and holding my breath in expectation as they read their first sentences. Sometimes inside I breathe as sigh of relief, sometimes I catch my breath excited at the promise and potential. I love seeing the students grow, listening as they develop and hone their voices. By the end, each of them will surprise me with stories I could not imagine on that first day. Tonight was the start of a new semester and these students did not disappoint. Their stories sing.

Inspired

I received a call a couple of weeks ago from a former student who had taken a number of my classes. When she first came to my class she had advanced cancer. That was two years ago. When she called recently, she told me it had progressed and that her time was limited. We had started an anthology of student work compiled from the classes she had taken and never finished it. She wanted to now. I got together with her this week to do so.

She spoke about her other projects -- two books she is hoping to get published, a current and upcoming art exhibit. She showed me the art project she had completed for one of these, discussing the texture of the paper and various printing costs. She is diligently working on her web site and blog, compiling years of her photography and writing.

She looked lovely in spite of an overall frailness and swelling in her abdomen. Her hair was longer than when I had last seen her (shortly after chemo) and her eyes were crystal-clear blue. They sparkled as she chattered about her busy life.

I wanted to snap her picture to remember the day, but was hesitant to ask. When I returned home I made this sketch and wrote this poem. I sent it to her the next day and told her that I wanted to put it on my blog. "I want to share with people how you inspire me," I said. "Not because of the cancer, but because of your creativity."

She is a person fully engaged in living. She is a creative force.

When I got home I sobbed.

Then I began to create.

In small letters she edits a big life down into words and images encapsulating dreams
on a computer, on a web site, in books, in photographs
sharing with others who she is, where's she's been, that she's here
that we all are
She reminds me to live, to work, to reach, to grow
Even when she is tired, even when a breath is hard
She reaches out and reminds me
Her story is our story and our story is hers

Beginning Something New

Tonight I had the privilege of sitting in Hubbard Hall in Cambridge, NY and witness the beginnings of something good. You could feel it in the air -- the nerves, the excitement, a creative spark -- beginning to crackle, getting ready to ignite. Six of us gathered with writer Jon Katz and his dog Lenore to begin a writers' workshop, telling stories of rural life. "It's scary," I admitted. I'm a writer and teacher by trade, but it's been a long time since I've told my own stories or been on the other side of the desk, but I said, "it's going to be fun."

 

And, I can tell it will be. People already have some incredible ideas -- ways to incorporate visuals and sound. I'm already getting ideas to try out on my own students. For a long time, I've been wanting them to share their memoirs in some other way than traditional text form (in fact that's their excitement for the week), but had never thought of incorporating sound (not music) but people's voices (acting out the character's tales) as one of the writing group members suggested tonight.
We got a lot of advice and insight into the writing process and the book industry from Jon and we saw his own excitement about the adventure ahead. Some people are generous of spirit. He is one. I am struck again, how the same messages seem to come to you from all over once you are attune to them. At the conference on creativity and spirituality, I attended in Laguna Beach , we were told to ask when we told a story or prepared a sermon to ask "What is the good news here?" Tonight, Jon said to make sure when we approached a story to ask, "Why should anyone give a shit?" Different words, same advice.