Making a Stand with an Essay

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote: "To be is to stand for." Well, to write is to stand for, too.

The other day, one of my tutorial students presented me with an essay full of what I call "DUH lines"--statements of obvious, unenlightening facts, without any new perspective. I asked, "But what do YOU think about the story? Where is YOUR interpretation? That's the only reason I want to read your essay. I already read the story myself; I don't need a simple summary. Teach me something new, or at least make me argue with you!"

"But this is a Response-to-Literature Essay, not a Personal Narrative Essay or an Editorial, so I don't think I'm supposed to write my opinion...."

"Think again!" I interjected. "Remember what I told you about how a thesis must be arguable--not a DUH line? Well, you have to prove your argument with the rest of the sentences. Each one builds upon the one before it, to convince the reader of your perspective. I can understand the story just by reading it. But I can't understand YOUR perspective on the story unless you share it with me. Again, the only reason I want to read your essay is to find out what YOU think about the story."

I could see a light bulb popping on over my student's head. And then opinions, in the form of commentary, flowed like electricity. Essays should turn on readers, not turn them off!

List-making

A friend of mine brought me a Hanukah gift today: a mostly blank book of prompts to make me start lists--lists of favorite activities, music, books; lists of valued experiences and intangible treasures; lists that can define who I am in a minimum number of words. What a great gift for a poet who values conciseness and meaningful word choices! I have written "list poems," as well as assigned them to my students. A list of groceries, or the contents of one's desk, has the power to reveal a personality. I have coached young writers to get to know their own characters by devising highly specific lists of their favorite activities or possessions, their passions, their most embarrassing and proudest moments, etc. Lists offer tools for learning about people and the worlds in which they reside. As a tool for introspection--which is what the book/journal gift aims to be--list-making provides insights for personal growth.

But the greatest growth potential posed by list-making lies in its ONGOING NATURE. Never finish a list, for it will always change as you age. Leave blank spaces to fill in, and contemplate the shifting values evidenced by the changes in your lists over the years. Likewise, as a writer, you may ask yourself how one of your character's lists might change over time, and in reaction to certain experiences. Characters, like their authors themselves, must evolve, and sometimes a great way to study their evolution is via list-making.

Thanks, Tina, for the gift. I like it because:
It will force me to put pen to paper (not fingers to keys) when I'm NOT teaching;
It will provide me with insights into myself at THIS age, later, when I'm an octogenarian;
It will remind me of you every time I write in it;
It will help me practice my specific word choices to show, not tell, who I am;
It will make me think about who I was, who I am, and who I plan to be.

How's that for a list?

I think the best way that high school and college English teachers can counteract the product-oriented influence of the education system, which precludes in-depth self-analysis and revision of writings, is to assign a final paper about the student's own evolution as a writer. The paper would require that they cite examples from their own previous works as evidence of their progress. I call this the "Introspective Analysis of Writing Progress" essay, which doubles as a comparative literature paper. Using literature THEY have created, students can find new meaning in the typical comparative essay, by comparing their skills and style from one essay to another. They could address issues such as:

~strength and clarity of thesis
~strength and clarity of main points in support of thesis
~conciseness/elimination of superfluous words
~logical progression of points
~effectiveness of concrete details as illustrations of main points
~evocative quality of commentary
~specificity (versus vagueness) in word choices
~smoothness of transitions
~subtlety in expressing opinions
~quality of technical details, such as grammar, punctuation, spelling
~liveliness of writing style (active vs. passive phrasing, vivid words)
~the degree to which the opening entices reading
~the degree to which the conclusion leaves readers thinking.

I think that assigning that kind of essay, toward the end of a semester, or even as a final, can allow students to leave a writing or literature class understanding their overall growth. But they do need to know about the introspective analysis essay from the beginning of the semester, which will heighten their consciousness as they write. The most meaningful means of progress is introspection.

How To Get the Most out of Your Child's Writing with the Least Amount of Hair-Pulling

ALWAYS:
1. Listen to the student read the entire work before making comments. Better yet, read the work aloud to the student. By listening, you will focus more on substance than on mere proofreading errors that catch your eye.

2. Ask questions about what the work conveyed (what you ask will also show what the piece has NOT conveyed.) Read only what appears on the page, without “filling in the blanks” for the student, even if you DO know what he/she meant to say. Address questions line by line, as needed. Rephrase Q’s if the writer seems exasperated.

3. Offer to help the child come up with a better line, as needed, based on the explanations he/she provides in Step 2, above. Suggest alternative words ONLY if your child has accepted your offer.

4. Ask the child to reword lines you suggest, so he/she can own the revised words.

5. Separate substance from form, if possible. In other words, leave proofreading (corrections of spelling, grammar, format, and punctuation) for the final editing phase. Focus first on meaning, flow, power of language, clarity--how the piece touches you, as a reader, overall. Focus on writing as a means of verbal communication between the author and the reader.

6. Suggest that the student double-space all writings (to allow room for editing and revisions), and type the work, if s/he can.

7. Proofread the revision with the author by your side, asking the child to identify errors and omissions, before you correct them.


NEVER:
1. Never interrupt the first reading of the child’s work, whether you read it or he/she does. (Often the author will stop him/herself during this initial reading to self-edit.) Never disrespect a young author by rushing the editing process.

2. Never tell the child what’s wrong; SHOW it subtly via your questions (see “Always” column), which help the student discover necessary revisions on his/her own. Never say “That made no sense!” or “What were you SUPPOSED to write?” or “You can’t turn in something so sloppy to your teacher!”

3. Never dictate: “I think you should say...,” or “You need to add this…,” or “Change that…,” or “Why don’t you write...;” and never make any suggestions until your child answers “yes” to your offer of help.

4. Never let the writer simply transcribe your words. It’s not your homework.

5. Never focus on form or proofreading before substantive editing. Never say, “What kind of grade do you expect, with all those misspelled words, and such a messy presentation?!” Your child will think of writing as filling a paper with neatly printed words, and revising as fixing misspellings and errors in punctuation and grammar. Grades will take precedence over clear communication.

6. Never recopy or retype the student’s work without your child asking you to do so. AND, if you do recopy or retype, never edit as you go; rather, preserve the errors for him/her to catch on the next revision.

7. Never mark up the paper and say, “Here.”

College Essays

I just finished coaching and editing two college application essays, on very different topics, for different schools, by very different writers. But they had one thing in common: false starts. Many writers warm up on paper without realizing it, only beginning their essays after a paragraph or so of warm-up material. To submit such a rough piece would be tantamount to a composer actually recording the band's warm-up session as the opening to a song--not advisable for keeping an audience engaged!

My trick to redirecting both students correlates with the age-old literary technique known (in Latin) as EN MEDIA RES ("in the middle of things"), which I learned about in high school English class. At the end of both students' first paragraphs shone their perfect opening lines. Once I slashed out the bulk of each opening paragraph, and pointed out the golden lines, the students enjoyed an "aha" moment and rewrote their essays with the new opening lines. I suggested the addition of specific examples in both cases, to replace or augment general statements. I explained to both aspiring college students that the key to standing out among the applicants is to offer vivid examples that create memorable essays.

It always comes down to memorable words, doesn't it?

The Masters We Mentor

I once read that we cannot measure ourselves in terms of our own mastery, but rather, in terms of the masters we help to create. Today I measured myself when one of my students, brilliant 14-year-old Erin, sent me a link to her own blogspot, full of concrete evidence of my influence as a mentor.

http://howtooverscheduleyourchild.blogspot.com

Many of the posts are pieces she wrote in response to my writing prompts, in our weekly class, pieces that elicited awed silence and dropped jaws, followed by heartfelt applause. Erin, master-in-the-making, sets the bar for her fellow students, and I recommend her blog to any students or teachers of writing--or anyone who simply wants a peek into an extraordinary teenage mind.

Thank you, Erin, for the chance to measure myself and discover how I have grown, as a teacher, through your success.

“D.A.D.” and “M.O.M.”: Memorable Guides To Improve ALL Forms of Writing

Truly memorable fiction usually includes description, action, and dialogue (what I call the D.A.D. technique of creating vivid word pictures). Remember D.A.D. as a kind of checklist for your writing--even if you have only one character (the D for Dialogue could translate to a person talking to him/herself). Examine your favorite stories and novels—the ones that created virtual movies that still play in your mind when you recall them—and you’ll see the important role of D.A.D.

As for nonfiction, vivid writing has as much importance as it does in fiction, and the D.A.D. technique will liven up essays, reports, and articles, too. You may be saying to yourself, “Sure, I understand how I can use description and action in creative nonfiction…but dialogue?” Simply remember to include words “spoken” by others—QUOTATIONS—to illustrate your points. And when revising your nonfiction and checking for the D.A.D. elements, look for quotation marks to ensure that you’ve painted a vivid nonfiction word picture. Using my D.A.D. technique in everything you write will immediately improve your written works, whether you write fiction, poetry, or nonfiction.

Now, along with D.A.D. comes M.O.M. (I don't discriminate when I make up mnemonic devices!): The M.O.M. technique will enable you to revise and edit your work for maximum impact by focusing on Mood, Order, and Matter. Let me explain. Mood refers to the tone of a piece of writing. Your word choices affect how your reader perceives the images or imaginary world you’ve created. How you choose your D.A.D. elements will determine the mood of your work, and you may have to alter the descriptions, actions, and/or dialogues to fit the mood you hope to convey. For example, to set a mysterious mood, you might describe a garden as “shrouded in mist”; and a man’s action as “shifting his eyes back and forth as he tiptoed through the garden”; and that man’s dialogue lines might read: “Where on earth could he have hidden?” Similarly, those basic elements would change for a scary story. For instance, the garden might feature a description of “a hedge of twisted junipers, contorted like writhing, green monsters;” and you might show the man’s actions as: “he sweated profusely as he darted between rows of thorny stems and spider-like tendrils”; and his dialogue lines might say: “This can’t be real—heaven help me, it can’t!” One word alone can alter a piece’s mood. A boy who "trudges," rather than "walks" shows us his unhappy mood; whereas a boy who "skips," rather than "moves," shows us a childish joy. Experiment with verbs that can change the mood of a sentence, not to mention the image of your character. Thus, Mood, the first element of the M.O.M. technique, both enriches and depends upon D.A.D.

In nonfiction, think of Mood as the tone you set using either formal or informal words. In an essay written to persuade the reader of your personal opinion about something, it is sometimes appropriate to “talk” directly to the reader and use contractions (like “it’s” instead of “it is”), rather than very formal wording. In a report of information, in which you present only facts, and no opinion, the Mood, or tone, must remain “objective,” like a factual newspaper article. Order refers to the order in which you supply information to the reader. If your story, for instance, grows from a specific setting—such as a creepy old mansion—and you want to introduce the characters slowly, as they enter the mansion, building the reader’s suspense, then you must first rely most heavily on the element of Description. You might decide to change that order if you prefer to speed up the plot and engage your reader in action from the first line, rather than risk boring him with a lengthy description of the mansion. The order in which you present your story’s D.A.D. elements will determine how you affect your reader—whether you offer subtle hints about the plot in advance, perhaps even revealing the end scene at the start, and then keeping the reader guessing all along about how that ending will occur; or you might supply intriguing tidbits of description or deceptive dialogue to keep the reader wondering about the character’s true personality. Notice the order of the story elements when you read the works of other writers. Experiment with changing the order of elements as you polish your own stories, poems, and—yes—your nonfiction reports and essays. In nonfiction, the order of your points, and your summation of those points in the end, determines whether your reader comes away from your piece feeling well-informed or confused, convinced or bored. Matter, the final element of M.O.M., means two things: first, I mean “matter” as the “substance” or “stuff” you wrote about; and second, I mean “matter” as “having a definite purpose.” Thus, the Matter consists of all those details that absolutely must appear on the page in order for the reader to understand the meaning of the entire piece. If you add unnecessary artistic details that don’t matter to the reader’s understanding, then you decrease the power of the Matter and confuse the reader. Deciding which matter matters is what we do in the final editing stage of our writing process, in which we delete superfluous words that slow down, or distract from, the work’s purpose. The Matter, Order, and Mood all influence each other in your writing.

Remind yourself to heed D.A.D. and M.O.M. whenever you write, and you will progress as a writer—I guarantee it. (You will also learn to appreciate, as a reader, the effective use of these techniques by your favorite authors.) Yes, embrace your “parental guides,” D.A.D., who helps you grow as a writer, and M.O.M., who helps you grow stronger through revision and editing. Thus, remembering D.A.D. and M.O.M. while writing will create writings worth remembering!