Sitting in one of the booths at the coffee shop I frequent each Wednesday night with my sister, constitutes my “Night Off.” I don’t really consider it a night off as, generally, I bring papers to grade, material to create tests, or books needed to prepare lecture for class. Instead, I see it as a night out, an escape, a chance to get away from the little world to which I am confined the rest of the week. This little world, which to me is both work and home, is a little world full of new discoveries, trials, and from time to time, loneliness, frustration and discouragement.
Really, my night out is just an excuse for another environment in which to work, my own self-imagined freedom. I am still working on school-work even if I am not on the Cono Campus. But even outside of school, I am still a teacher. From time to time I even help my sister study or revise papers. Last night was no exception.
As a potential biology major, my sister is studying different muscles, organs, systems…the typical bio stuff—not exactly my cup of tea, but I go along with it. She does crazy things like draw some of her own diagrams so I can quiz her. I now know more about the reproductive system of a fetal pig than I think I ever wanted to, not to mention also learning about brains and eyes (the diagrams were only of these last two, thank goodness!). I don’t mind those so much. These are things that inspire Jessica, but not so much me.
When I wasn’t helping Jessica study body parts, I was attempting to grade some writing that the girls in my Communication Arts class had done for me in preparation for a vocabulary test. I had asked them to write a story using at least six of their vocab words from a book we are reading together. The first two stories I read were very simply written. Vocabulary words in all of them were often misused, but that wasn’t what caught my attention or spurred my thoughts into motion. I could barely wait to get home to write them all down!
The topics of the stories varied from teachers to techies, tomatoes to terrorists. The ideas were original and beautifully crafted, faulty vocab or not. I wanted to cry tears of joy to see the creativity blossoming in the minds of these beautiful young ladies. One of my girls has this desire to make people laugh, her creativity is different than anything else I have ever read. She has this energy and imagination that has no boundary. There are no inhibitions. While she has work to do grammatically, the ideas are so fascinating. She writes, often ridiculous things like, hanging the teachers you don’t like from flag poles or the play ground equipment, but it is written not out of disrespect, but because she knows it will make me smile.
Another of my girls has this sweet, innocence in her writing. Anything is possible. There are no scientific laws stopping her. The world still holds those fairy tale adventures, with prince charmings and fairies. Again, while there is growing to be done academically and emotionally, this time of imagination is a gift to be cherished and this time of innocence a thing to be treasured.
“A techie sits in her lab, her lap top so hot it is beginning to burn her legs.” An idea of another of my students. The observations in this writing…the detail astound me. She describes the laptop, the feeling of the character…”she may be at this till she is old and gray, but it is a job that has to be done.” Not an exact quote, but an idea, a real thought from a make-believe character. This is a skill that many more mature writers struggle with, but in this instance, this young lady has demonstrated it beautifully. Down comes her assistant. “Get the model ready. There has been a terrorist attack.” Wow…where do these ideas come from?
Another terrorist attempt, this time, a Russian Communist out for revenge. His attempt is foiled…at least for now. ; ) I have more to learn about this young writer, but I anticipate great things.
Tiptoeing through the tomato patch…wait…I mean the roses. This young lady is a born story-teller. Words are a part of who she is. Every time I pick up one of her stories, I am amazed at her ability to weave emotion and life into a character. She is witty, funny, charming, talented…I expect one day to pick up a book she has written from Barnes and Nobles and be able to tell the cashier as I am paying for the book, “This young lady was a student of mine, my first year teaching…I always knew she’d become an accomplished writer someday.” Every time, a new idea, even if it is a continuation of a previous story. There is always something new and fresh, gleaned from every day life, or ideas borrowed from the books she can’t get enough of.
This is why I love being a teacher. I get to see the beginning of creativity! I have the privilege of being there to cheer them on. I get to see the humor, the innocence, the observations, the creativity, the wit—all from the beginning.
This was the true freedom of my night out. Forgetting that I was grading papers, I was drawn into stories, sad when I got to the end. I lost myself if the joy of the creativity I saw. I am a teacher. I want to inspire the creativity that tells stories about teachers, tomatoes, and terrorists.
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