Imagine the Silence #blog4nwp
Rochelle Ramay, NCWP Co-Director
With the loss of funding for the National Writing Project, I am compelled to
write. Today my thoughts were distracted in a way that forced me to really
consider the ways the Northern California Writing Project, the California
Writing Project, and the National Writing Project have transformed my
students from taskmasters to masterminds.
Steve was a decidedly average student who struggled. He had difficulty
writing any papers of substance; but as a sophomore, after the class had
participated in an activity I had learned from the Northern California
Writing Project, he broke through whatever walls trapped him. He was changed
for the remainder of his high school experience. Upon his graduation he
wrote me. "Thank you so much for your time and effort. Without your help I
know for a fact I wouldn¹t have the opportunities I do today. From Berkeley
to Cal Tech, my writing has gotten me so much, and it¹s through your work
that I learned to write. Confidence is such a key to success. Your teaching
affected my life, not just in school, but my whole life!"
John entered my lowest level freshman English class, even though he was
eighteen, and found a seat in the very back corner of the classroom. He wore
tattoos over his shoulders and down his arms. His hair hung like greasy
strings into his eyes and over his leather vest. He made no eye contact.
Frankly, he scared me. One day after class, John stayed behind. He thrust
a torn out sheet of binder paper into my hands. ³Here,² then he left the
room. The half page of writing was nearly illegible, but the meaning was
clear. John¹s paper was the story of witnessing his best friend being gunned
down on a Seattle street. The next day, John told me it was the first time
he¹d actually written down his own ideas instead of just filling in a
worksheet. Of course I asked him how and why he¹d shared this particular
time. "It was the way you presented it, the way you made me think."
Julia was a bright student who had little reason for focusing on school. Her
life was one no child should even know exists: neglect, abuse, and
loneliness. Her mother had used drugs most of Julia¹s life, moved Julia and
her sister and brother from town to town, and struggled to stay alive.
Julia¹s best friend was Katy. Katy had often been beaten by her own
boyfriend. In fact, this time he¹d hit Katy hard enough to break her nose.
Her eyes were bruised purple. When Katy arrived at school after the beating,
Julia tried repeatedly to force Katy into fingering the boyfriend for the
beating. She even stood up in a class and accused him. The boy was
nineteen, Katy was only fourteen, and although many school adults tried to
use the legal system to protect Katy, nothing succeeded in removing Katy
from the violence that could kill her. Julia figured out what the rest of us
couldn¹t. By using techniques I had learned at the Northern California
Writing Project and we had practiced in English class, Julia carefully
composed an open letter to the senior class that described domestic
violence. She graphically illustrated the details of a "hypothetical"
beating; its victim as a freshman in high school, the abuser as a high
school senior, a situation matching Katy's, and the efforts of a "friend" to
bring the case to the fore for resolution. Trusting her peers would make
the connection between the real and the hypothetical, the seniors turned on
Katy's boyfriend. In fact, the class' power was strong enough to force the
boyfriend to leave this campus and transfer to independent study. Even
though we couldn¹t guarantee Katy's safety after school, we could protect
her during the school day and provide her with counseling. The power of
Julia's writing is immeasurable.
When I began teaching in 1974, schools were far different. The country was
experiencing a sense of confusion and "do your own thing" rang clearly. As
a beginning teacher, I never felt part of a student¹s continued literacy,
nor did I know of a way to connect to a network of other teaching
professionals for understanding my own roles as an English teacher. All I
knew about teaching was what my master teacher had taught me. In-service and
professional development for teachers didn¹t exist. Now, as our nation
struggles with understanding education, I am disheartened that teachers,
charged with teaching and nurturing the literacy of our young people, may
lose the very place where they can refine their own learning to meet
constantly changing demands of education.
In the twenty-four years since I attended my first summer institute of the
Northern California Writing Project held at CSU, Chico, the literacy of
nearly four thousand high school students has been affected. Some of my
students have journeyed far from their small hometown, while others can be
found nearby. But each of them shares a common experience. At least once
in their lives they were able to weald the power of language through
writing. Each of them recognized that what they knew and felt and believed
was worth expressing.
have stayed buried within them. I am convinced that I would never have found
ways to connect these students, and the many who followed, with the power of
writing to unlock what they believe. The loss of the National Writing
Project saddens me. It's one thing to take funding away from adults, but the
impact on students is immeasurable. Imagine the silence.
