So last week I got a couple blasts from the past…with a twist.
For pretty much all of high school and then some, I participated in my local library’s Teen Writer’s Workshop and Teen Writer’s Forum. I loved it! I love to write, and I loved going to the Workshop and Forum to devote time just for that and to make friends. Every year, I would anxiously watch the library calendar for when the next one would be, and I would be the first one to sign up. Sadly, the Forum eventually faded away due to lack of participants and changing facilitators, but the Workshop has remained to this day. And last week, I co-facilitated it.
My favorite part was probably the lesson planning. What can I say, I’m an idea person. I loved going through my old notebooks, remembering the fond times and thinking of what worked and what other people would enjoy. It was also an interesting experience in considering others’ feelings–I might see one activity that I loved but no one else enjoyed or vice versa. When I discussed these with my co-facilitator, I mentioned these issues. It was also thrilling to bring in new activities and hear her exclaim, “Oh, I love that idea!” It was a little difficult, though, because we were opposites in our teaching styles. I like a set routine. She likes a lot of flexibility. I’m very serious, while she’s playful and friendly. I prefer the written word, while she’s an expert in oral storytelling. Still, this combination worked in a way–at the end, she said it was a good experience for her, as it taught her to have a firmer schedule, while it taught me to be more flexible. I know it helped with our group, as some teens were definitely more comfortable telling stories while others preferred writing them.
I brought several writing prompts, including one I’ve used in my fanfiction (yes, it’s a guilty pleasure): writing stories based on songs. I brought in a couple CDs, my co-facilitator did the same, we played a song from each–keeping a good variety of genres–had the teens listen to them, and write a story based on one of them. One teen wrote a story based on one of the songs I chose, and what a thrill when she read her story and started crying because the song moved her so much. That was definitely a moment I won’t forget.
I’m sure many teachers will agree with my favorite and least favorite aspects of teaching: the kids. A couple of the kids were so sweet and so serious about writing. They wrote diligently, read their works proudly, had suggestions for activities. Other kids, however, talked throughout the free writing, wrote poems that made fun of others, made suggestions for musical chairs and other children’s games rather than writing activities. If I could teach just those serious kids, I’d love it. But you have to take the bad with the good, and those “bad” kids might later end up being your favorite. I know one of them, in a moment of introspection, wrote a beautiful prose about the ocean, and his personality was so friendly and outgoing, it was hard to find his talkativeness annoying. Oh, and he called me “Miss Martika.” That was kind of cool.
I said a couple blasts from the past, so here’s the other one: in middle school, I was bitten by the acting bug. I loved acting–no, I LOVED it. Life is so complicated, it was wonderful to finally have a script, to know exactly what was going to happen. And, a surprise to all, I was really good at it. I would get up there and become absorbed into the role, so that people later came up and complicated me on how believable I was. Acting fell to the side when I got into high school, and discovered the joys of seniority–that is, all the good parts went to the seniors and the freshman, even the ones who were far better than any of the older kids, were relegated to the backstage. But I never forgot that thrill of being onstage, that feeling of coming home.
I found that feeling again last week, when I helped out at the Storyteller’s Festival. I had been meaning to check out the festival for years, but something had always come up. I wasn’t going to miss out this year, not when I was actually interning at the library! Let me tell you, I will never miss it again–the Gemini twins and their incorporation of music into their performance, Karen Czarnik and her expressions…it’s more that a story, it’s an experience, one that will make you sad that oral storytelling is such a lost art anymore.
Or is it? Helping out with the Story Slam, I got a chance to work on a story to perform myself. And I loved it. It tied right into acting, except I was acting out a story from my life, by myself. I had a script, I was using my voice and mannerisms to tell my story, to make people think and feel. I made them laugh, I told my story. At the end of the workshop, the leader, a professional storyteller, approached me and said that I could do this, I could make a life of this. I’ll be the first to admit, my self-esteem is pretty lacking. Hearing this praise–and hearing it in the form of the laughter as I spoke and the silent attentiveness–and feeling that rush of getting words out correctly, well, it was that coming-home feeling all over again.
Which makes me wonder–was this all a blast from the past…or a preview of the future?