Creative Writing

My sophomore year of college I took a Creative Writing class. See, I had a dismal 1.00 GPA. If not for being an EOP student I would have been kicked to the curb. The University had to give me a a second chance. My counselor stacked my first semester sophomore year with "easy" classes - Creative Writing, Astronomy, Volleyball, American History, Business Math - If I earned all "A's" I would move my GPA up to a whopping 2.00. This would at least keep me from a lifetime of burger flipping. I looked forward to Creative Writing. Writing has always been my "go to" method for dealing with life's realities. I didn't fancy myself as the next great author, I enjoyed writing. First day of class in walks the catalog version of a college English Professor - speckled gray hair, corduroy jacket (complete with patches on the elbows), corduroy slacks, loafers, a well worn leather messenger bag. Immediately I pictured him sitting at home in a recliner reading great works of writing - or sitting at his desk pecking away at a typewriter, completing his own great work. Then he began to speak. "There are thirty of you in this class. I can't begin to read every writing assignment. You will present your assignments to the class. Your fellow students will grade you. On occasion I will read some pieces of work and give you my grade." Dang I hit the jackpot! If the bulk of grading was coming from classmates it was an easy "A." Fellow students would certainly give one another an "A." That was not the case. Turns out my fellow students took themselves as serious writers. They did not go lightly when it came to evaluating the work of their peers. I was baffled by the cold-hearts that left some students in tears, running out of the room never to be seen again. The class was creative writing. In the process of creatively writing there is not really a place for criticism. You put your thoughts on paper. If you do that well you have met the assignment. Not so much the thought process of these "budding authors." Actually, it was too bad. Writing has been a gift I could open any time I needed to-having all this frustration ripping apart my gift was disheartening. Anywho, the beginning of each class was a fifteen minute "free write." We were to open our black composition notebooks and for fifteen minutes write whatever thoughts were mingling about our heads. If we hit a block we were to write, "block" until it passed. Given that at any given time I have twenty thoughts banging around my head "free writing" was an easy task. Then the professor asked a few students to read their "free write" and the rest of us were to evaluate it. That is really silly. You cannot evaluate a "free write." It is the ramblings of a person. No punctuation and no self-editing. Of course when we found out we might be called on to share our "free write" students did self edit. The assignment was no longer creative. Students wrote hoping to impress our "out of the catalog" English Professor. One essay writing assignment, we had to write a piece comparing ourselves to an inanimate object. We could not name the object. Through our writing the object should become obvious. Each student read their piece in front of the class. The other students guessing what the inanimate object was. When my turn came around, I stood and read my piece. When I finished several classmates correctly identified my inanimate object. It was actually a piece my peers did not rip to shreds. They did not need to - Mr. Cliche English Professor did it for them. In my piece the inanimate object was a tree stump. I compared my self to an old tree stump - (The Giving Tree is one of my favorite books so I reckon my inspiration came from there) In his haughty tone, Mr. Cliche told me I was not old enough to be comparing myself to a tree stump. "You are not old enough to have the wisdom or life experiences that make you worthy of comparison to an old tree stump." Respectfully, I begged to differ. He could not possibly know what my life experiences were. (Back then, you 'member, when I looked 14 until I turned thirty. Yes, there was a time when I looked fourteen. But WOW, when thirty came, overnight I looked Forty!) We argued back and forth a bit. My classmates quickly turned on me. I was not going to back down. I met the guidelines for the assignment and I was not going to let some brown nosers and a frustrated cliche' run me out of my "A." I needed the "A" and besides I was right! Through out the semester, in-class, the voice of my peers was harsh. Outside of class many stopped me to express their true feelings. Fearing the wrath of Professor Cliche, they went with his lead. I do not like hypocrites. If you have an opinion or feeling you should stand by that. Two faced people make me angry. It worked for me anyway, this me against the class. I had felt that way so much of my life - me against the world - it was comfortable. Always good in a crisis I ended up thriving in the battle. Another piece of work we wrote about an experience using only adjectives. Again the class had to identify the experience based only on our writing - I chose an LSD experience. Mind you I have never used LSD or any other such drug. As a post 60's child I read and heard a lot about these "trips." The thought of not having control over my body or mind, along with fear of dying or disappointing Mommie - No, drugs were not my thing. Well neither were they Professor Corduroy's thing. He boisterously expressed his "Just Say No To Drugs" philosophy. (Must have loved President Reagan) The Professor said he would not give a passing grade to a paper about the use of drugs. After class he even had the audacity to pull me aside, offering me places I could go for my "addiction." Oh goodness I laughed. Not in front of him, all the way home I laughed. Ended up he did give me an "A." Actually, I earned that "A." The class was good for me. It was an artificial environment where I could practice "My Voice." Having spent so much of my youth being and seeking silence; that class, forced me to speak. Defending my position to others was good practice for me. I still do "free writing" exercises. It is a practice I used in my own classroom. For students who have learning disabilities writing is the most difficult of assignments. If you don't see words in your head it is difficult to write. Free writing does not require correct spelling, punctuation, or grammar. If students wrote the letter "X" ten times that was fine. As students began to express thoughts they also began to find their voice. At first no student would volunteer to read. Given time, one by one, each student wanted to read their free write. Their page might be blank but their souls had much to share. Students would stand up and read a three minute piece of prose off a blank piece of paper. Eventually, the pages were not blank. Students put their thoughts on paper. The practice definitely helped each student develop writing skills. Oh Professor Smoking a Pipe in your patched elbowed corduroy jacket - your teaching has helped hundreds of students with learning disabilities become tree stumps or take LSD trips. You should be proud!