Teaching writing, man. Today I'm looking at 138 persuasive essays introducing my students and their personal character. I've graded exactly 12. Grading is, of course, a nightmare, but I enjoy it. It's a masochistic, stubborn sort of a thing. I try not to write in red pen, or write novels of instruction on the side of the page, or write scarring terms like "AWK" or cross whole phrases out, even though sometimes I think those actions would serve the sense of the paper. Writing is so personal. It's so emotional. It's a very hard subject to teach, because even 7th graders know that writing is pulled from a source inside of a person, it's individual, and even if it flat out sucks (to employ the 7th grade vernacular) it still belongs to someone. Math problems don't belong to anyone. They belong to the universe, and by junior high most have figured out the universe can be an annoying and shittily unfair place. Math makes you angry (or ecstatic) at the grand Order of things. Writing makes you angry at yourself.
So grading is a delicate balance. It's also a crazy amount of work, for what sometimes feels like a ridiculously tiny pay-off.
But sometimes you come across a world in a sentence, and that's gold. It's a good thing I'm such a nerd about language...I mean I can't imagine most people enjoying the treasure hunt of one powerful sentence in a knee-high stack of general, meandering pulp.
I can never express what I love about student writing; it's usually sentences that were not intended to stand out. My favorite sentence so far is this one:
Since childhood, I have had the ability to create things. For example, a house complete with pool and lounge chair, and entire factory, and a fleet of 17th century sailing ships, all out of paper and tape. (All of these were miniature, of course).
Happy Saturday. Go create things.
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