9 Things English Teachers Taught Me About Writing [& Life], Part 2

I'm thanking my English teachers as a stand-in goal for my 30-Before-30 list. You can check out part 1 here.

4. Tell your truth. My mom was always very big on truth while I was growing up. The very worst sin you could commit was to lie, whether about something simple like your homework being done, or something more serious. So I have always been kind of fascinated with the truth, but while we were learning about memoirs in Dr. Kia Richmond's Non-Fiction Writing class, I learned that a) the truth makes for very interesting writing, and b) the truth is complicated.

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When writing non-fiction, like a memoir or, you know, a blog, you have to remember that things happen as we remembered them, not necessarily how they really happened. For instance, I swear up and down that I remember the day of my brother’s bike accident. I remember running out in the street where my mom held a limp, bleeding Jake in her arms, stunned, waiting helplessly for the ambulance. I remember running back into the garage, then again out into the yard, where twelve-year-old me (or was I eleven?) sank down into the lawn and tried to make myself cry, not so that I would seem sad, but because I wanted my physical reaction to match the devastation that I felt on the inside, and the discrepancy was very confusing. I know now that I was in shock, but I remember feeling betrayed by my body. I think I remember pinching myself, but is that more of a cliche that I just happen to identify with? Or did I really pinch myself in hopes to feel something?

This will always be a difficult topic for me to write about, and in Kia's class I finally understood why. It's hard to trust yourself. There is the way I remember it, and then there is the version my mom has told me over the years--her version, in which I just stood in the driveway and waited for the ambulance, then rode to the hospital with my calm yet frightened dad (always good in a crisis, yet what a temper day-to-day) while she rode along with my unconscious seven-year-old brother.

Yet I swear I remember running back into the garage and sitting on the one little step, trying to realize that this was happening. And I swear I remember kneeling in the grass, looking at all the people who had gathered, the neighbors who brought blankets, the kind woman who calmly told my mom that it would be safer for my brother if no one moved him. In the end, I have to trust – and share – my version because it’s all I have. If my mom’s version helps me remember parts of mine, great. But I can’t rely on someone who was hysterically trying to wake her son up after seeing him hurdle the handle bars of his bike, face first into the concrete – and trying to tell her story does no justice to my story.

I think this is true of everyday life, and I see it in some of my current struggles. There are two--or more--sides to every story, and relinquishing your perspective does little to set things right. You have to trust your experience.

5. Know your audience. This came from Kia's Intro to Professional Writing class my junior year of college. We had guest speakers, people who used writing in their careers (authors, PR people, editors, journalists, teachers, administrators, etc.) and they were asked to share their thoughts on professional writing. They all said the same thing: you have to know who you're addressing. An author needs to know who reads his genre. Editors need to be familiar with the style of the publication. Teachers need to know what their students already know or what they are expected to learn in a specific class. You need to know who you are writing to so that you know how to begin, what not to say, and how to say everything in between.

My mom calls it 'using your psychology', but basically it's just doing your research and knowing the people you're dealing with the best that you can, so that you can predict how they will react and know how to address them in the most compelling, satisfying way. Knowing how to approach people is key to any communication.

--Kia also taught me that good writing is about connection, and you'll never connect if you don't open yourself up a little bit more than you're comfortable with. (What's that saying--"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone"? Well, so does good writing.)


6. There is always something you can teach. And always something you can learn. When I was nominated (by Kia--are you seeing a trend here?) to be a Writing Center tutor at the beginning of my sophomore year, I was a pile of nerves. This honor is usually reserved for juniors and seniors, I thought. What could I possibly have to share?

But what I learned from my boss, Dr. Z.Z. Lehmberg, is that you always have something to share. In short 20-minute sessions, I helped students improve their writing little by little--add a comma here, save that thought for the conclusion, what about adding a paragraph of history in the beginning? I found my confidence in the Center, session by session. I realized I had a lot to share, and that I loved to see people improve. And over the course of my first year, I had gained knowledge about dozens of different topics, uncovered new ways to organize thoughts in the most effective way, and learned how to speak to people so that you can bring out the best in each session.

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--Z.Z. also taught me a valuable lesson: Sometimes how others see you can shape how you see yourself--for the better. She wrote me a letter of recommendation that included this description: "People often feel at ease when meeting with Bobbi. She has a quiet inner strength that is inspiring." Huh. Good to know.

Stay tuned for Part 3...three last tidbits from English teachers.