Creating A Vision of Possibility

How student writting can nurture reflection and hope.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is an excerpt from Linda Christensen's new book,Reading, Writing, and Rising Up: Teaching About Social Justiceand the Power of the Written Word, now available from Rethinking Schools. Click here for more information about the book and how to order it online.)

Over a decade ago, 25 seniors sat in my Contemporary Literatureand Society class and discussed their futures. We had just celebratedSheila's 18th birthday and prom and graduation could be viewedon the horizon. After blowing out her candles, Sheila said, "Iam soooo happy to have made it to 18 without getting pregnant.I am the first woman in my family to graduate from high school.And the first woman to make it to 18 without a child." Severalother students joined in with similar stories.

Sheila's story was not uncommon in my classrooms. Many of my studentswere the first in their family to graduate from high school. Manywere the first to attend college. Some already had children.

Although my family situation differed in some respects from mystudents', there were similarities. I remember my fear that Iwould not graduate from high school. Mom left for work beforeI got up for school. She was too tired at night to ask about homeworkor even cook, much less initiate discussions about my future.I usually ate dinner at my older sister's home. Although I wasthe youngest child in my family, I was the first to attend college.My oldest sister joined me during my freshman year.

As a junior/senior English teacher, I understood the overwhelmingsense of awe and fear that college can inspire. I attempted togive my students the help I needed when I was a high school senior.

THE CULTURE OF COLLEGE

For many students, there is no culture of college in the home.While most parents want their children to go to college, if theyhaven't gone themselves they might not know how to help theirchildren prepare or apply. My student, Trisa, articulated thisafter we visited a more affluent high school in the suburbs. Oneof her "ahas" about the difference between our schools was summedup in her quote, "At West Linn, students didn't ask each otherif they were attending college, they asked each other where theywere going. Attending college was a given." In homes where noone has gone to college, the difference between if and where isa big one.

My mother supported my entrance into college, but we didn't havea clue how much money it really cost or how to apply. Mom hadnever set foot on a college campus, but she'd harbored the dreamof becoming a teacher when she was younger. Either we didn't havecollege counseling in my high school or I wasn't perceived tobe college "material," because no one at Eureka High helped methink about where I might want to attend. I did apply to severalUniversity of California campuses because I'd visited a friend'ssister at Berkeley, and I pumped her for information. The Universityof California at Santa Barbara accepted me, but after the burningof the Bank of America in nearby Isla Vista and campus riots in'69, Mom thought Redwood Community College would be a better choice.Her thinking was, "A college is a college." My students struggledwith similar problems. The choices overwhelmed them, and eventhe application fees seemed excessive.

One of my students who was the first member of her family to attendcollege said, "I don't know what changed for me this year. NowI get good grades. I want to do my work. I stay for academic clinic.I get my homework done." But I knew what had changed. One dayduring the previous summer while Natalie and her parents visitedfamily in Seattle, her father drove her to the University of Washington,a beautiful campus. They ate lunch, toured the campus, and hespoke of his desire for her to attend a four-year college. Throughthat visit, Natalie's father helped her see college as a possibility.

RESISTANCE: IS COLLEGE THE ONLY OPTION?

Let me set the record straight: I don't think college is the onlyoption for students. But most students will need post-secondaryeducation to get a living wage job. A significant number of mystudents lacked the credits to be juniors or seniors when theyentered my untracked classes; so when I started in on college,they rebelled. Justifiably so. They were sick of school, and theydidn't want to study for the SATs or write college essays. ButI believe it is essential to give students a vision of their livesafter high school; in fact, it was crucial to their success inmy class that they established an attainable goal and directionfor their life after Jefferson. Without that vision and goal,it was too easy to sleep in, watch daytime soaps, and forget abouthomework.

How I talked with students about their future was crucial. Onone occasion I spoke with my class about college and I inadvertentlyput down working-class jobs, "You don't want to push a broom orpump gas the rest of your life. That might be okay when you'reyoung, but you don't want to make a career out of it."

Nyke got mad. "Hey, my dad owns a janitorial service. He pushesbrooms, mops, and vacuum cleaners every night. That's how he putsthe food on our table, and I don't see anything wrong with that."Nyke was right, and I felt ashamed. His words recalled the disparagingremarks some of my teachers made about jobs that required physicalrather than mental labor. Thanks to Nyke, I remember both of ourfathers and speak with students about the dignity of work.

I also talk about options. Most students harbor some kind of secretvision of their future, some spark from childhood or some currentpassion that they'd like to transform into their future work -whether it's becoming a hairstylist or working as an ecologisttrying to save the salmon runs. For Angie, it was a love of animalsthat made her want to become a veterinarian. Teaonshae didn'twant to go to a four-year college, but she cut and styled hairon her front porch every weekend and all summer long. Keith, whodrew my wrath for the cartoon characters that disfigured my desks,wanted to be a graphic artist. Lurdes hoped to be a lawyer whohelped immigrants. Yuliis doodled dress designs and aspired tobecome a fashion designer. And Nicole wanted to write plays thatdealt with social issues.

Helping students articulate these dreams not only pushed themto write college or scholarship essays, it helped them creategoals for themselves that pulled them out of bed or off the couchand into my classroom.

CREATING THE DESIRE: BRINGING BACK FORMER STUDENTS

Like most public schools, Jefferson opened its doors in Septemberbefore college students made their way back across the countryor down the street. I took advantage of that and invited my formerstudents in for a talk. Usually I created a panel that includedstudents who attended local, Black, community, small and largecolleges all over the country. I wanted my current students tolisten to Jefferson graduates talk about their experiences.

While they did talk about classes, cost, grades, scholarships,they also talked about campus food, football games, marching bands,campus traditions, bugs, heat, homesickness, and what they wishedthey would have taken care of when they were juniors and seniors.Olivia, who had a full ride at a state college, talked about howshe tried to spend an hour a day in the library during her senioryear finding scholarships. She also encouraged all students tovisit the campus prior to attending: "I didn't know I would smellmanure all day and hear cows and pigs all night." Harold agreed."Until I went to college, I'd never been some place that didn'thave sidewalks." And Sekou talked about the opening traditionsat Morehouse College in Atlanta that both welcomed him and madehim feel a part of a rich history.

Laughter ricocheted off the walls of C-12 on these days as studentsshared their experiences. Because these panels had become a tradition,many of my former students called me and volunteered to come backand talk once they were "grown." But more than laughter and sharing,my former students created the sense of possibility and desirein my current students. They had known Harold when he blockedthe stairs between B floor and C floor. In fact, they'd knownHarold when he claimed to be a gang member at middle school. IfHarold or Tony or Renee could go to college, so could they.

CAMPUS VISITS

Billie Letts, in her novel Where the Heart Is, captured my fearsand doubts when she described the main character's first day atcollege: "Novalee had never been on a college campus before andshe was sure everyone who saw her knew it. She tried to look likeshe belonged there, but she didn't figure she was fooling anyone."

I too was awestruck, but if I hadn't visited Claythel Burke atUniversity of California at Berkeley, I may not have overcomemy fear that I didn't belong. I decided to take my students onfield trips to local college campuses hoping to create a hungerfor those green spaces, those ivy-covered walls, for an education.I wanted them to see themselves on a campus - just as Natalie'sfather had when he took her to visit the University of Washington.

But I wanted more than a walk around campus. I wanted studentsto attend a class so they could see that the "academy" was notout of their reach. Two of the most successful attempts to bringmy students to a campus happened because of my college professorfriends. Tony Wolk, an English professor at Portland State University,agreed to teach my students a writing lesson on campus. When wearrived, he passed out chocolate chip cookies he'd baked for themand treated them to an outstanding lesson using dreams as an entryto a piece of writing.

Once, when I had a grant to support my vision, I took studentsto the University of Oregon - a two-hour bus ride away - wherethey met with my Writing Project mentor, Nat Teich, and some formerJefferson students who attended the university. Nat's class focusedon metaphors in poetry. Students connected. They knew they belonged.This was their strong suit. He had also arranged tours aroundthe campus.

WHY WOULD THEY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT ME?

When faced with sample college essay forms asking them to writeabout significant life events, my students balked. Few of thembelieved that they had done anything worth writing about or thatsomeone else would want to read. Sure, I loved their stories andpoems, but I taught at Jefferson. Why would a college admissionsofficer want to read about their lives? They hadn't traveled orearned straight A's. They were sure that their lives were notsignificant enough to write about. As soon as I asked them tolist significant experiences or accomplishments, I could feelthe whine rising up across the room, even before Ayanna raisedher hand. "Ms. Christensen, I haven't done anything. I haven'tgotten good grades. I never went anywhere. I haven't accomplishedanything."

Ayana had barely finished before Ted headed for me with his headdown and tilted, the way he carried it when he had his "I can'tdo this" frown on. And Terressa was a pile of hair and fumes underRosa Parks' poster.

Getting these students to write college essays acknowledging theirskills was like steelhead fishing in the Columbia: no fish. Theydidn't see their incredible resilience, their ability to see throughpeople's agendas, to spot phonies within seconds. They discountedthe richness of their lives, the stories they had heard growingup, their grandmothers' wisdom. They didn't count the gifts theybrought daily to my life. Why should they? In a society that prizesmoney and all it can buy - expensive clothes, cars, homes, highSAT scores, travel to foreign countries - many of my studentsdidn't measure up in the traditional sense, but they had the skillsour society sorely needs: compassion, heart, the ability to seethrough lies and deception, as well as the skill to wrestle anypoint to the ground.

WRITING THE ESSAY

"All the college will know about you are numbers: your SocialSecurity number, grade point average, and test scores. You needto make them see you as an individual," I told my students. "Thisis your chance to tell your story, to jump up off the page andlet them know what they'd be missing if they didn't let you attendtheir school or give you money to attend school."

Typically, we work through two pieces - a special person essayand an incident that shaped them - otherwise known as the "aha"moment essay. After reading through numerous college and scholarshipapplications, I found these two were anchors my students coulduse. I called them the interview suit or the basic black dress.They wrote and honed two of the essays and then changed them ifthey needed to answer a slightly different question.

SIGNIFICANT PERSON ESSAY

Sometimes I didn't even say we were writing a college essay, becauseit sent students into immediate panic and anxiety. Their visionof a college essay is a list of their achievements: paragraphafter boring paragraph of accomplishments. Instead we'd just writethe piece as part of another unit we were working on.

The easiest essay to tuck in without their knowledge was the specialperson essay. For example, when we read Their Eyes Were Watching God, we discussed how Janie's grandmother influenced her, then wewrote an essay about someone who was important in our lives. Whenwe studied the Abolitionists during Literature and U.S. History,we talked about "moral ancestors" - people who weren't relatedto us, but whose social conscience and engagement set a standardwe wanted to live by - and we wrote about them. Around Thanksgiving,we wrote essays about people we're thankful we have in our lives.Later, students could dig these pieces out of their portfoliosto clean up as a college essay.

But sometimes I hit the essay straight on- usually by bustingtheir stereotypes of a college essay. We'd read "Granny's" byAlyss Dixson, an essay that helped buy her a ticket into Yale.Or we'd read "Brenda," by Neena Marks, who landed a spot at NewYork University. Typically students say, "That's not a collegeessay. You can't write about ants and urine when you're tryingto get into college." Students needed to see that they didn'tneed to make themselves sound like Dick and Jane from the oldfirst-grade readers. They needed to sound like themselves, toshare the world that they come from.

I began by asking students to make a list of people who had influencedthem. They may or may not have known this person. It could havebeen a coach, a parent, a grandparent, a person in their churchor summer camp, a person they admired, but didn't know - a moralancestor. Next to the person's name, they wrote how the persontouched them, why they were important. We shared the lists topercolate ideas for each other.

Once they'd chosen a person, we did a series of quick-writes.First, I asked students to describe this person: "Tell me whatthey look like, let us hear him/her talk, give you advice. Brainstormdetails about the person: Do they wear an apron? Smell like OldSpice? Run their hands through their hair? Push their glassesup on their nose?" I usually did a visualization at this pointas it helped students dive into the piece and retrieve memories.

For the next quick-write, I asked them to describe an incidentwith the person that illustrates why the person influenced them.I gave them an example of Ray Cetina, my principal at Grant ElementarySchool in Eureka, who created a science club that met at sevenin the morning and invited all students to attend. For Mr. Cetina,we were all "Talented and Gifted." We all deserved special programs.His sense of equality and expectation shaped my life as a studentand a teacher.

Sometimes, obviously, students wrote about people they hadn'tmet. I asked them, "What has this person accomplished that makesyou admire them? Be specific. Not 'they are great and courageous,'but she fought cancer, he helped get kids off the street, shewas the first woman tap dancer to make it big. Go into detail.You will need to cut back later, but get it all down now."

Then I brought it back home. "From this person's accomplishmentswhat did you learn that you will take with you into your future?In other words, tie this person's achievements to your futuregoals."

The quick-writes were a jumble - like pieces for a quilt thatneeded a unifying pattern to hold them together. I told students,"Read back over your quick-writes and think like a storyteller- get down scenes, dialogue, make the person come alive. Playwith each part. Write fast. Be bold. Keep all drafts - even theugly ones, they might have a line or two that can be saved. Fitthis all together once you get all of the details. Write first.Piece later. If you get stuck, look back at the student modelsfor a way out."

THE "AHA" OR INCIDENT ESSAY

The second essay was much more difficult to write and explain,partly because it asked students who hadn't even lived two decadesto inventory their lives and then scrutinize them for a momentwhere they had a vision of the possible. This paper was like aheat-seeking device, finding the student's heart: What matters?What's important? Why? What might they want to spend their livesdoing? When was the moment they knew that?

I changed my major three times during college - from math to marinebiology to literature. And after I graduated I started a master'sprogram in Medieval Literature, switched to law school, and endedup a teacher. So I know that the flash of illumination I had infourth grade when my chicken died and I dissected it did not turnout to shine a light on my future career. But learning to findand define those moments that shape us can make us see our giftsand our potential.

When Andrew Kafoury wrote about his love for theater, the authenticityof his voice, the depth of his experience on and behind the stagecame across:

"I love acting. I love putting on costumes and becoming creaturesI am not. I love my skin sweating as bright lights send heat soakingthrough my body. I love getting to know my cast, watching thedrama behind the drama. I love the quick change, the black out,the dry ice and stage combat! I love cranky stage managers andquiet co-stars. I love watching ego-stricken actors fall intodecline while a new face emerges from the shadows. I love themonster special effects that steal the show, and that oh-so-preciousmoment when you, the actor, send the audience head over heelswith laughter. I love the call sheet with my name on it, and thedirector who calls to say I'm perfect for the part. I love theshows that I wish would go on forever, and even the ones I can'tstand till they're over.

I love sitting backstage, exhausted from the matinee, and knowingin another two hours I'll go out there and do it again. I loveto play the bad guy, and I love getting that killer role I'vealways wanted. Hell, I love it when they toss a spear in my handand say, "Go stand in the corner." I love classical and contemporary,tragedy and comedy, romance and swashbuckling! I live for themoment when I run on stage for curtain call, and the applausegets just a little bit louder. I love the smooth feeling of steadymemorization, and those intense moments when something unexpectedhappens, like an actor not showing up two minutes before curtain,so the stage hands have to make a split second decision because,damn it, man, the show MUST go on."

To get students started on this piece, we once again began by reading student essays. They saw the range of illuminating moments that Jefferson graduates described from Dyan Watson's playing saxophone in Japan (click here to read this essay) to Chetan Patel, who attends University of Chicago, learning about his heritage. The model essays explored the sweep of possibilities.

Before we read the essays, I asked students to imagine they weremembers of the admissions committee at a college. We played throughscenarios: Who would they want on their campus? Would diversitybe important? Would it be an asset? Would they only let in peoplewho could afford it? Were they looking for valedictorians? Whatother skills would they look for? Would they want people who spokeone language? The same language?

I wanted students to question the way things are, to create asense of possibility. In some countries post-secondary educationis a right. Students and their families are not forced to mortgagetheir homes and their futures to attend college. How would thatchange admissions?

After this preparation, I told them to jot notes on what theylearned about each student as they read their essays. What didthe piece make clear about the student that their GPA and SATscores might not? Would this be a person they'd want on theircampus? Why or why not? What skills would this student bring tothe school that might not be traditionally prized?

Students began to see how the essays made the writer come alivethrough their stories. I made the point that they could writea resumé that lists their achievements, but only through storyand essay could they give the admissions committee a ticket intotheir lives.

Rather than a recitation of facts, I wanted students to createthe scene, so we could see them on the street, in the room, onstage. I used a visualization to push them into the scene. I askedthem to remember a particular moment or to freeze one frame ofan incident. Where are they? What does it look like? Smell like?Who else is there? What are they saying? When they opened theireyes, I asked them to capture the scene. Chelsea Hendrichs wrote:

"If I came to see you, I'd ask for my money back! I've paid. Giveme something to watch! If you're going to dance, dance." The tiny,dark woman says over the banging of the piano. We all laugh, butI take what she says and store it away. Her words make me pushmyself harder. I am the fairy queen. I am Juliet. I start to losemyself in this character that I have created for her. I imitateher gracefulness that I know dazzled audiences, though she's nevertold me. I watch her and I see where I hope to get. I want tobe beautiful and powerful at the same time. I want people to wantto watch me dance.

Eric Mashia opened his essay with a scene from a middle schoolclassroom:

I was in Mrs. Klein's seventh grade English class. We sat in acircle telling what we wanted to be when we grew up. I rememberSara said, "I want to be a police officer." Good luck I thought.If she saw someone fighting, she would run the other direction.Then there was Nathan who hoped to become a professional footballplayer. If he could make it being four-foot seven and weighingless than one hundred pounds then the saying, "You can becomewhatever you want to" really is true. But then came my turn. Isaid, "I want to be the next Montel Williams, a male Oprah Winfrey."

As middle schoolers we were into the newest news. Who was goingwith Demetria or Lameka, and who just got beat up in the fightyesterday. My quest for scooping news led me to write for my schoolnewspaper at Jefferson High School.

Teaonshae started her essay with a scene of her doing hair onthe front porch of her house. Ayanna opened with a story abouta teacher who believed in her as a way of edging into an essayabout wanting to become a teacher herself.

Writing college essays was not easy - not only because studentsstill needed work on their writing skills but, more importantly,because some students needed to discover there was room at the"academy" or the institutions of higher education for them. Theirfrustration was more often about the distance between what theythought colleges want and their assessment of their lives.

Certainly, not all of my students attended post-secondary institutions.Many started, dropped out, started over. And one unit - even withcollege visits, panels of graduates, and college essays - cannotovercome the gap between the class differences between those whowonder where they will go to college and those who wonder if theywill go to college. The long tongue of the road towards equalityis neither certain nor easy, but as teachers we must continueto travel it.

REFERENCES

Hurston, Zora Neale. Their Eyes Were Watching God. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1978.

Letts, Billie. Where the Heart Is. New York: Warner, 1995, p. 292.

Fall 2000