Trusting in the Process

by James Smith

Allow me to preface this piece by saying that there are times when I am an idiot. In fact, it may well be that those times eclipse my moments of insight or excellence in such a way that I often feel I am standing at the eye of a raging hurricane, looking up at the too-blue sky and wondering why no one else stops to appreciate the small moments of clarity we are given.

   I’m probably an idiot because of trust issues. I never had much reason to trust others and, when I did, it was often with the expectation a general reserves for his or her soldiers – that anything less than astounding success was a betrayal.

   Naturally, that neither flies here nor in life as an overall rule. People are human and imperfect. So is our process. It’s something that evolves with us – that we shape and in turn are shaped by and it gains traction and momentum when we allow it to be what it is.

   That may make little sense until you’ve experienced it, but I’ve learned in time to have faith in others and in humanity (somewhat ironically, people call me an idiot for that, too) and the simple fact that people have chosen to come to this institute, to sacrifice their halcyon summers upon the altar of education impresses me. Because the process, the path we use to overcome and to become our better selves shares the same flaws and potential that we do, I feel it deserves that respect as well.

   In the coming weeks, “Just trust in the process” will become a mantra repeated: let it be a groundwork from which castles are built. Brick by brick, insight by insight, and hand in hand.

Tuesday at the Institute: Vygotsky, Dewey and Voice

by Meg Petersen

This morning in the returning fellows inquiry group we discussed readings by Lev Vygotsky and John Dewey.  Our conversation centered for a long time around the idea of the classroom and the school as a laboratory for democracy.  If we think about the idea that education is not a preparation for life, but life itself, then Dewey would posit that how we enact democracy in our classrooms is what really matters in terms of preparing students for future citizenship.  If we espouse the values of democracy, but run our classrooms and our schools like totalitarian states, it is the latter that will be learned.  What matters is how we live our lives every day in the classroom.  In our classrooms and schools, we create powerful microcosms of civic life. Thus it behooves us to create societies that respect the rights of all, especially those with fewer resources and less power.  Let us create an ethos where every person is respected and no one is marginalized or silenced, where disrespect for any human life is not permitted and where each person’s rights are respected and protected, where we honor each person’s individuality with the understanding that it helps us to create a stronger community.  As I said the first day of the institute, we must live the values of community, inquiry and equity every day.

   I carried these ideas with me to  Benjamin Ludwig’s author visit this afternoon, Ben presented an interesting and complex view of “voice” in connection with his novel Ginny Moon.  Ginny Moon is an autistic 14-year-old who has been adopted into a “forever family.”  She has something she desperately needs to communicate, but no one can listen well enough to hear her.   The novel has received justified praise for the captivating voice of its narrator, but Ben wanted us to be aware that Ginny really has two voices.  There is her voice as captured in the actual words she speaks, and then there is the voice that Ben has given her inner self or her stream of consciousness through his writing.   I would say that the gift of this novel is allowing the reader to hear Ginny’s voice, but Ben reminds us that in the novel, the characters around her do not hear her.  They cannot hear what she so urgently needs them to understand.  

       

              The concept of voice, as Ben presented it, brought me back to our morning discussion of classrooms and schools.  Voice, as Ben pointed out, seems to be seen as an unqualified good.  Everyone should have voice all the time.  We grade students’ writing on their “voice” on six-traits rubrics.  But voice is more complicated.  Perhaps we can all have a voice, but who will be listened to?  Whose voice will be drowned out? 

              All of this brings me back to our core values and to the idea of creating a society of civil discourse in our classrooms where all voices can be honored, and where those with more power can learn to sometimes quell their voices and listen to those who have something to say that desperately needs to be heard. 

A Day in the Life of James

by James Smith

And so it begins, another fresh start at the Summer Writing Institute! I am the ubiquitously named James Smith; a name conjured from only the most inclusive phone books of the world. I live in and work out of South Korea where I specialize in adult language learners.

Today, I had the good fortune of being among the first teaching exploration candidates -- together with my esteemed colleague Diomedes; a teaching exploration is interesting in the sense that you demonstrate your practice to your fellows and they spend a great deal of time breaking it down, getting to the essence of what you are hoping to impart to your students and why you have chosen that particular format. Meanwhile you, the teacher, watch the process unfold, take notes, and reflect on what is being said -- to some degree it feels like master engineers reverse-engineering some contraption you have put together and discovering themes and nuances that you never imagined even being there while at the same time forcing you to realize how you can improve and hone your skills as a teacher.

This was my second time through the process, the first being last year and I have to say, the process gets no less hair raising! But that's the point; to press you, to think, to challenge you. For my practice, I had my students for the day practice Japanese renga poetry. Think of a haiku, the 5/7/5 form that you may or may not remember and imagine a second person adding on to the poem with two extra 7/7 syllabic lines. Then, the original writer responds with yet another haiku and the process repeats. If you're interested in the practice itself, I wrote it up for everyone here! Naturally, should you have any questions, feel free to track me down on Facebook and ask me!

I can't wait to see what comes out of this summer -- I'd like to envision it, but the special thing about the Writing Institute is that the only thing you can predict is that it'll be awesome.

My Teaching Philosophy: Never stop growing; lessons exist within the experience -- the moment -- and everything else stems from this.

Welcome!

Hello and welcome! We are the writers and teachers of the National Writing Project in New Hampshire! This blog is dedicated to sharing our experiences, our reflections, and our evolutions as individuals and as teachers as we experience the Summer Writing Institute!

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