Aprilmay

General Musings

Yes. Yes, I did smash April and May together in one because that’s been the essence of these weeks. The fact that I’m sending this out midmonth as opposed to two weeks ago is also a pretty good distillation of the last month. 

Busy. Busy, busy. 

I have a manuscript deadline, so naturally, I’ve been throwing myself into any other work I can find. Teaching has been the double-edged distraction. And teaching is nothing if not a gaping mouth to throw time and energy into. 

And constant reflection.

Craft Concern

by E.M. Chapel

I’m currently teaching a composition course. It’s not unusual for teachers to be required to teach specific types of writing depending on the class, department, school, what-have-you, and that’s no different for this course. 

What’s on my mind as I teach writing to youth is the questions I have about “right” and “wrong.” 

As a writing teacher, my job is to help students explore new and salient ideas, ask questions, think critically and deeply about various topics, and then to express themselves clearly through language. To express themselves. 

As an author, my job is to explore myself and my world, to ask questions, think critically and deeply about various topics, and then express myself clearly through language. To express myself. 

The difference is that I am afforded the privilege of expressing myself stylistically in ways that speak to me, in ways that imbue my self into the pages. Though I write fiction, and the characters are not allegorical for myself or anyone I know, the language I use, the structures I select, and the general weirdness I weave in are absolutely me. But students write essays, not fiction. Even in essays, which follow Standard English conventions much more strictly, I can play with language and structure, and think about how my style can be implemented clearly and effectively. 

So why is it that when we teach youth, who do have the foundational understandings of the mathematics of Standard English, we ask them to write in precise formulas? We tell them that unless this follows that, it’s “incorrect.” Unless those thoughts that we asked them to find critically and through inquiry are structured just so, like perfect little blocks stacked in the perfect little way, those thoughts aren’t “right.” 

And that’s what gives me pause. Teaching writing using the language of “right” and “wrong.” Right and wrong in an art that is for self-expression. Right and wrong, we say to the young people who want so strongly to express themselves and be seen by the world. You’re doing it right. You’re doing it wrong. 

But there is unclear writing that forces readers to question, reread, and misunderstand. Of course there is. There are missing commas, diction that doesn’t quite fit, and syntax that would thrive if rearranged; there are typos and mistakes. There is a right. And a wrong. Right? 

When I workshop other authors’ work and when others have given me valuable feedback in my writing, we don’t generally speak in “correct” or “incorrect,” unless there are glaring foundational issues–the typos, the bedrock. No, we speak in “strong,” “clear,” “effective,” and “vital.” And in the negative, we speak in questions and musings. I wonder how this experience would affect this character. I wonder whether this character would behave like this based on what we’ve seen before. I found myself lost in this sentence. I wonder if this section would be more powerful over here. What would happen if… 

All this to say: the only thing I can change is my own approach to teaching writing. My questions for myself become: how do I encourage self-expression in the most prescriptive, required assignments? How do I teach students to lean into their style? How do I encourage students to use their backgrounds and cultures to strengthen their writing? 

How do I limit the “rights” and “wrongs,” instead noting the strong, the effective, and the questions while I live and teach this art of writing?