posted by Amy on Feb 25
The six essays I wrote for seminary transfer applications took me forever to do, and I was disappointed in them. I thought they were over-written, and lacking in vitality. I worked on them diligently, and for a very long time, but I didn’t feel particularly inspired. Despite efforts to be original, to avoid cliches, to be clear, and to convey a sense of how important this calling is to me, I didn’t know if admissions committees would see me as I hoped to be seen. I sent them all in anyway, hoping for the best.
I’m more satisfied with some other writing I’ve done lately. As part of an independent study of Methodist history I read and then reviewed two books, one about the development of the world Methodist movement, and one about the life of Francis Asbury. I found it easy to write the reviews, and I did a good job. Maybe I was just happy to have something to write about besides myself.
Right now concern for my writing students is keeping me awake nights. I have a whole new group this semester. Of the three people from last semester, two did well enough that they are no longer required to work with me. The third student was close to that point, and might have gotten there after one more semester, but decided to suspend seminary studies.
I have four new students, and will soon add a fifth. As before, I like and respect all of them. We have great conversations, and I love hearing their stories. But I can’t figure out how to help them.
I keep buying books about teaching writing. I also collect articles. I have found some excellent university web sites, and I’ve copied many of their articles and worksheets. I give my students handouts to read and study, hoping they will learn from them. But it’s not working out very well. To me, it’s obvious that if I want to learn something new, first I read about how to do it, then I practice it, and I master it. To someone who doesn’t operate that way, it’s not an effective teaching strategy.
I wish I could get them to love the written word. If they loved words, then they would love reading and writing. If they loved words, then they’d relish the process of saying just the right thing. They’d connect their hearts and minds and spirits with each written assignment. They’d see that writing can be a way to pray, and to deepen faith by reinforcing understanding and insight.
Many of my students are already pastors. They preach and exhort and teach and pray, but for the most part it is extemporaneous, and oral. They say the Holy Spirit gives them the words that the people need to hear. I do not doubt that, but, regrettably, they don’t seem to think their written work is or can be Spirit-led or Spirit-inspired.
I wish I could teach a writing class patterned on “The Karate Kid.” I imagine myself getting the students doing things that seem completely beside the point, like Mr. Miagi’s “wax on, wax off” exercise, then, somehow, tricking them into writing in their own voices, with their own passion and creativity. Then they would quit worrying about word counts and mechanics and trying to impress the teacher, and they would pour out something heartfelt and profound. Right now, they are imprisoned by fear and loathing, by thinking it’s too hard, or too dull. I would give anything for the keys to unlock those cells.
Writing can provoke, transport, uplift, admonish, chasten, and inspire. It can give life. It can destroy. The written word is the foundation of civilization, and an instrument of social and spiritual transformation. It is sacred. It is magical. It is powerful. The Bible tells us that the law is written on our hearts. Our Hebrew forbears wrote the Shema on scrolls fastened to their doorways, and touched them when going out or coming in, praying “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.” We are People of the Book. Yet I don’t know how to convey a proper sense of awe about writing, or desire to do it.
I wish I could infect my students with a burning desire to write as beautifully, persuasively, powerfully and convincingly as possible. I’ll keep buying books. I’ll keep reading. I’ll keep praying and thinking and analyzing. I will find the keys.