Young Authors

Pulling a nail out of petrified wood in below zero weather with your teeth is undoubtedly easier than getting 8th graders to write. “I don’t know what to write about!” “I don’t get it!” “Writing is stupid!” “How do you spell the?” You have all heard it. But when they start, when that idea starts to grow, when it gets legs, words like theme, protagonist, rising action, resolution, man vs. nature, all become part of your classroom vernacular. Damn! That is an incredible environment.
I strive for that, and sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. Last week the district celebrated The Young Author’s Contest winners in a simple, classy, gathering. The winning and honorable mention authors were called to the stage and given a certificate. A local teacher, an incredible person, read an excerpt from each piece. The audience got a small slice of the heart-felt writing we were gathered to celebrate.
This evening was the highlight of my 15-year teaching career. A few of my students did very well, and I have to admit I felt an almost perverse sense of satisfaction. So many people in the district do not understand what we are trying to do here, but are quick to criticize-“They don’t teach any English over there at all.” Yeah, I got a little charge out of that. The students however provided the huge charge.
An ex-student of mine was a winner in the ninth grade poetry division. If you met this kid on the street poet would be the last adjective you’d imagine. Thug, gangster, wanna-be all would come to mind. How wrong you would be. This kid is a sensitive, caring individual who has been the primary caregiver to an elderly grandfather with Parkinson’s disease. His poetry was simple, concise, and teeming with emotion. After the ceremony I gave him a hug and let him know how proud I am of him. He reminded me of my role in his writing.
“You were the one that got me started Mr.T. Remember when we began writing poetry in class? I said I didn’t know how to write poetry and you told me, everything you say is poetry Will, just start writing it down.”
Another student won the 8th grade non-fiction category with his autobiography. Most 8th graders autobiographies would be pretty empty. Justin’s was brimming with detail. He wrote about the night of the fire, how we went out one door and the rest of the family used a different one. He wrote about the surgeries, the skin grafts, the skin harvesting, the fight against infection, physical therapy, months in the hospital, his incredible mother. As George shared an excerpt from this piece you could hear several gasps in the room. Tears were filling eyes, rolling down cheeks, and spotting clothing up and down each row.
Kids will write, and they will write well. But like that stubborn nail, it takes more than one person to loosen it.