My earliest act of rebellion involved writing. And I was not a rebellious kid. Not even a little bit.
She demonstrated, and then turned this lofty task over to us.
Everyone else picked up a pencil and got started, but I was overcome with a feeling I could not name at eight years old.
This tiny fire formed in my chest. I just knew I couldn’t follow those paint-by-number directions. Something about that easy peasy paragraph was offensive in a way that felt personal to me. All of our paragraphs were going to turn out exactly the same, and what was the point of that?
There was no challenge or creativity in this writing work.
Since I wasn’t the kind of kid who flat out refused to do what a teacher asked her to do, I did eventually pick up my pencil and write a paragraph--just not the kind I had been directed to write. . .
At some point later, my teacher called me up to her desk, where she tried to explain why I needed to rewrite my paragraph.
“But why?” There was something important in this line in the sand for me, even if I couldn’t explain it. “Is mine wrong?” I asked.
I could tell she was unsure. “No. . . it’s not wrong exactly. It’s a great paragraph. . . in some ways it’s. . .” I waited for her to continue. “But you didn’t follow directions. Why didn’t you use the transition words I asked you to?”
“I didn’t want my writing to sound like everyone else’s.”
She nodded. “Well, it definitely doesn’t.”
I don’t know where I got the confidence to wait her out, quietly refusing to back down. I think I knew--even then--that my paragraph was better than just “not wrong.”
Perhaps my teacher sensed this sureness in me, or maybe she had conflicting feelings herself about teaching writing in this way. More likely, she was caught off guard by an uncharacteristic act of defiance from a historically compliant student. Whatever the reason, she didn’t make me rewrite the paragraph.
This became a defining moment in my writing life, both for myself and in my stance as a teacher of young writers.
I am glad you didn’t have to rewrite! The outcome could have been sadly different.
ReplyDeleteRecently my brother found a Valentine I made in school. I have no specific memory of it, but it says “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mother and Father.” Never in my life did I ever call my parents “Mother and Father.” I can only conclude that I obediently copied what my teacher wrote on the board. Makes me sad for my little girl self.
I was holding my breath through this slice. I'm thankful she didn't make you rewrite it. That would've been such an injustice.
ReplyDeleteThis is a true defining moment!
Teaching writing can be so hard sometimes. You want to give students tools that make it manageable for them, especially when they are doing something new. It is also important to recognize when a student is ready to push beyond those structures. I'm glad your teacher saw that you were ready.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great slice. I hope you share with students the importance of staying true to oyurself.
ReplyDelete