My son Ro, who is four, just started in a soccer league. Four year-olds don't know attention is a thing that can have a span-- their coaches have to mix it up to keep them engaged. When their sweet Coach N explained, "Now I am a shark, and you are fish crossing my ocean, and if your ball gets away from you, I'll eat you!," they took him very seriously. They didn't want to get eaten on the first day of practice. Who does? Also four year-olds excel at being literal. When It Comes to Sports, Love (and Writing), Mix It Up! The lead coach, who has been coordinating community soccer leagues since I was four, watched from the sidelines, and played rapturously with my 1 year-old. He was chatty, and did not stop talking if you were within reaching distance. At the end of the clinic, while he watched Ro eat peanut butter and honey, he waxed on about the league he started in New Jersey for Orthodox Jewish (OJ) kids on Sundays. They couldn't play on Saturday, regular Soccer Day, because of observing the Sabbath. Turned out local Seventh Day Adventists (SDA) kids also couldn't play on Saturdays because THEY also observe the Sabbath. So eventually some SDA kids migrated onto the OJ team. Then parents showed up to watch. Turned out a number of the parents were widowed or otherwise single (the divorce scene is opaque). Slowly, mutual romantic interests developed--"mixing" between the adults. The kids didn't get eaten by sharks, made goals and dirtied knees across religious lines, and god didn't smite anyone. Meanwhile, the parents flirted and paired off. A Good Story is Still Good the Millionth Time! I could tell the coach had told this story a million times before. But Ro didn't mind, because he was eating ALL the peanut butter and honey and admiring his shin guards. And Aria didn't mind, because she was busy trying to pick up the cones that marked the sidelines and cigarette butts on the astroturf (really?). And I generally like people telling stories Continue Reading …
Stories
Before you write that essay about your hike…
Every year, I have students bring me that essay --the incredibly heartfelt one-- about their trip into the woods, or up a mountain. Some of these students are accomplished hikers, some total, struggling newbies. 97% of the time there are blisters in these essays. It's hard to explain to the writer that this rubs a blister in the admissions readers. But I have to try. Here's why: what you experience on the mountain top or in the mosquito-thick woods is likely very similar to what every other person who ever hiked experienced: irritation, discomfort, transcendence, appreciation, disappointment. Often, you leave with gratitude, renewed perspective. It's also very likely those two last mental states are quite short lived. That essay doesn't translate to real life! Say: until someone double-crosses you at school, or you drink soured milk your sibling put back in the fridge, or you can't get a new bus pass and you have to walk somewhere in the sheeting urban rain, or...the list of irritating things in everyday, non-hiking life that ask you to face your inner self goes on and on. Where are the woods then? Where are all those blisters and mosquitos and the high cloud vista of the craggy peaks? Admissions offers have heard that essay too many times The admissions readers have heard your story 10000000 times, maybe literally. They know you mean it-- but everyone does. They also know, because they have lived a little longer than you-- that those take-aways are often temporary. So they are looking for something more. Sorry to say: Not the cliched journey with its predictable life-lesson. So what are you to do, if that essay is burning a hole in your mind, feels like THE ONE? Find a unique angle on that essay You need to dig much, much deeper into your experience. Beyond even those aggravating, debilitating blisters that dominated your psyche at the time. Last year, I worked with a student whose essay took a long time to find itself, but when it Continue Reading …
Everything That Happens to You & Prompts
My writing students complained the other day about certain canned responses to their disappointments: Well-meaning folks assured them, "Everything that happens to you is for a reason!" I asked them to raise hands if they agreed or not with this statement. 75% said they disagreed. I'm their writing teacher, and find cliches born of other people's discomfort with our discomfort hard to stomach too. But I suggested a revision: what if you said to them (and yourself), "Everything that happens to you...is for art?" A common problem: Where can I say how I really feel? At a seder this weekend, an older female guest in a glow-worm white jacket confided in me, "We're about to lose our family home. My husband got forced out of his work two years ago. I'm so sad--'" she lowered her voice, "but no one really wants to hear about it." I am always interested in what's really going on for people, and as a result, even strangers often open up for me. I felt for her, what felt like losing her roots. And she was right: it was hard to elicit the empathy she really needed. Much worse things were happening to people everywhere...but so what? This was her grief. She should be able to find an ear for it. My philosophy: Everything That Happens to You Has a Home in Your Art I couldn't tell her this, then, nor did I know if she ever wrote, but we could say: Every single thing that happens to you has a home in your art. That annoying comment your teacher made about your test. That t-shirt you won at the fair. The way your mom looks at you when you get home late. The family home you lost. The cough that wouldn't go away. The school you didn't get into. The kid you hope to have. It doesn't matter what it is: art can handle it. Art will hold it. Art gives you a place to hold it and understand it. In my intro to personal essay class, "Word UP," I ask my students to call out, "Thank you, Life, for giving me my material!" It's goofy but accurate and it never hurts to be Continue Reading …
Sample student essay– Too Muslim for Violence
Student Sample Essay-- Start Them Writing Young The following sample personal essay, “Too Muslim for Violence” was written by Mohamed, my 7th grade student at The TEAK Fellowship. I am proud to share it with you here-- he has exploded into his voice over only 8 weeks in my class, and he has a message for us about individuality and peace. If you think you don't need to hear it, you're probably wrong. It's never too young to start them writing about what they see in the world, and who they might be. ** "Too Muslim for Violence" Al Salam Alaikum my brothers and sisters. Let’s start by defining that phrase. The phrase itself means peace be upon you. As Muslims, we greet each other with peace. It seems ironic that many people view us Muslims as terrorists, murderers, kidnappers, or basically any other negative role a human being can play. We greet each other with peace - where could the violence come from? I turn left and right on a cool Monday morning in my school uniform. Ready to learn and ready to see my friends, but definitely not ready for what was to come. As I read the news, my heart skipped a beat. A terrorist attack. Another terrorist attack. I was praying to God that it wasn't somebody with a Muslim name. Please no Ahmed, no Abdel, and absolutely no one else with the name Mohamed. I sunk down into a deep, deep, dark hole. I shut off my phone right away. By no means was this the first terrorist attack that I read about, but usually I was home. Not knowing what to say or what to do I wondered: Is anybody looking at me? Is anybody talking about me? I couldn’t believe what was on my phone - his name was even worse than I anticipated: Ahmed Muhammed. Two Muslim names but only one person. I just wanted to go back home because I worried my friends would be scared of me since a “Muslim” man blew up a church in Egypt. At that moment I felt like every person was saying, “All these Muslim people are so violent.” The media was successful again in spreading hate Continue Reading …
Caught Between Identities
Helping Teens Explore Identities Every week, I teach personal essay writing to middle schoolers at The TEAK Fellowship, and I think a lot about how identities are formed. This week, I wanted to find an essay by a trans author for them to read. This is an identity marker many students--and many adults--still feel confused about. Confusion is not unhealthy; ignorance is. One job of a writer, and a teacher, and maybe just a decent person, is to do the work to clear ignorance cobwebs from our eyes. It can be messy. We need to see them I spend a lot of time with teens, listening to them, thinking about them and what they need. Whenever possible, I laugh with them, allowing them to poke fun at adults, myself included, our hypocrisies and short-comings. There's lots of material there. I read great essays from them on the ways we've not stacked up, everything from leaving water running while we brush our teeth (though we ask them not to) to insulting their weight (when they weren't upset about it) to berating them for getting F's without asking about their days. Their criticism is for a purpose, not superfluous. They are in the process of deciding which adult identities are worth growing into. That said, I believe more than ever, our teens need to see their teachers (and, frankly, as many adults in their world as possible) stand up against erasure and misbegotten hatred of individuals and groups. Our teens need to know, if it was them at risk, that their identity, their selves, would be protected, too. Seen. Celebrated, especially. Art for all our identities That's what art, and in particular the art of the personal essay, is for (or one of the things, anyway). When we write, we look into identity closely, to understand how a person comes to be themselves, what has shaped them. To share that through style and craft. To open yourself up to others. To transmute pain. No matter who teens are in the process of becoming, each needs to know they belong--somewhere Continue Reading …
Guest Post: How To Be That One Black Girl At An Interview
To write powerful personal essays, make it a habit to use your voice early and often Immersing yourself in reading personal essays is a great way to develop range. The following sample personal essay was written by my former student Awa D. She is a truth-dropping 8th grader at The TEAK Fellowship, where I teach some of NYC's most dazzling public schoolers who are hellbent on shaping their futures through education. After reading Junot Diaz's short story, "How to Date a Brown Girl, (Black Girl, White Girl or Halfie)," the students were prompted to write their own "How To ______" personal essays about something in which they consider themselves an expert or authority. Awa wrote hers about being "that one black girl" at an interview for an NYC private school. She is observant, tough and tender, gentle in person, rigorous in word. Her personal essays have never shied away from the beauty or difficulty of being a person of color. Her family immigrated here from Mali, and she observes us all with special eyes. If you want to know how to help students write awesome personal essays for college admissions, I say: just start them writing personal essays earlier. Teach the hot skills of observation and reflection, and let them practice til their hands, minds and hearts catch fire. If you're looking to help yourself get stronger at writing personal essays, I'd say: pay attention to your life, and write, write, write what you notice, about whatever feels like a little fire under your skin. From Sample Student Personal Essays How To Be That One Black Girl At An Interview--by Awa D. This interview will make you wish you just had fresh box braids done at the local Fatima’s African Salon on 125th and Park Avenue. The itchy scalp, tightly added extensions that you had to take an Advil for, and chatter of 10 African ladies gossiping about the salon across stealing their customers would have all been worth it. But no, you just happen to have cut your hair to a Continue Reading …