What is this thing called story?
From the beginning of time, people have created and spoken and passed on stories of our past in a desperate attempt to awaken something within the community. Ancient Greece used well-known mythological stories as backdrops to the Greek tragedies. For a short period of time, thousands would gather and take part in the religious act of emotional purging and catharsis.
In the novel The Things They Carried, Tim O'Brien mentions stories are "for joining past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story."
To me, stories bring hope. Life can get pretty messy sometimes. For all of us, disappointment lurks in the corner waiting to make his appearance. Stories remind us of the good - of those who push through conflict despite the messiness around them. It may not always end with a bow tied neatly around a happy ending, but characters within stories are noble and fight for what they know is right. They are flawed - just like us - and even through mistakes make something beautiful. This is the hope.
This past summer, sitting in a coffee shop in Nairobi, Kenya, I thought about how I would accurately tell the stories of those I met in Kibera. I wanted to return to school and let you guys know just how lucky you are to gain a free education. I wanted to make it clear that flushing toilets and central heat and air and the excess of paper, pens, books, pencils, markers, crayons...these things aren't guaranteed. I wanted to share about the two kids writing their numbers on a metal pole with chalk - only to lick the pole clean in order to start again. I wanted to share about Rose who is orphaned but finding a way to raise funds for school through her grandmother's business. I wanted to tell you of the poster hanging in the headmaster's office of what to do if you are raped...
Why?
...because I needed to remind myself of hope.
There's a fine line between experience and storytelling. I found it in Kibera. And sitting with these kids as they each shared with me their background and hopes and dreams, the dichotomy of my world and their world collided within my chest, creating a discord not easily removed. Coming home and sharing my experiences wasn't an option anymore. I needed to find the link between what I witnessed and what I hope for these kids. Walking down the dirt path lined with sewage holding the hand of Rose or Adah or David or Benjamin - I realized the grotesque beauty of storytelling. You may or may not be moved by what I say or the stories I share. But does it really matter? The thing about this fine line between experience and storytelling is that it's my experience - my story. It matters to me. It moves me. And in sharing it, I hope it moves you - but I know if it doesn't, it's okay.
....because in sharing, I've reminded myself of hope. And late at night, when I'm trying to remember how I got from there to here, this is all I need to know.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Begin by Learning
It's like clockwork.
Every year, my inspiration slowly creeps into this morning monster - begging me to get my lazy self out of bed and write. This is how I know when school is just around the corner. I mean, you're not going to find me waking up at 4:45am during the summer unless I'm catching a plane to some distant land....
So I do with this muse the best thing I know - I use it. I sit down at the computer, rest my hands on the keyboard, and wait...eventually the words begin to flow.
Yesterday I read a blog post of a teacher who I admire. He spoke about who we are as teachers - and what it takes to make it in this profession. He said something I found inherently brilliant: begin by learning. Begin by learning, and never stop.
Curiosity races through my veins most days. I think it may be the storyteller in me. I look at a person walking down the street and I wonder where he has been...what his story is...where he hopes to go. I hear of a new novel and I'm immediately drawn to the plot - how did the author think of this? Was it a dream? Has it been festering inside for years? How long did it take for her to write it?
And then there's teaching. Who will I have this year? What will our discussions bring? Will the students like the books we read? Will they even care at all? Most importantly: how can I be the best teacher for these teenagers sitting in front of me - waiting for me to speak?
It's a tough job - a rewarding one, but a tough responsibility. Learning is essential. I constantly need to be reading...writing...researching...soaking in everything I hear about AP Literature in order to effectively turn around and get my students - you guys - to start thinking on your own.
I know it's the beginning of a new year. My clock says 6:37am and I'm already at the school - brainstorming, creating, drafting, dreaming...my biggest hope for this year is that you use this first week as a catalyst. Storytelling - in all its wonder - is the backbone of civilization. We will begin by learning what it means to find stories that resonate with us - and why stories grotesque in nature mirror our life so closely. We will begin by learning to soak in the words of an author and allow the how and what to simmer for a while. We will begin by learning the value of setting pen to paper and writing our own story - fictional or based on our perception of reality.
We will begin....and we won't ever stop.
Every year, my inspiration slowly creeps into this morning monster - begging me to get my lazy self out of bed and write. This is how I know when school is just around the corner. I mean, you're not going to find me waking up at 4:45am during the summer unless I'm catching a plane to some distant land....
So I do with this muse the best thing I know - I use it. I sit down at the computer, rest my hands on the keyboard, and wait...eventually the words begin to flow.
Yesterday I read a blog post of a teacher who I admire. He spoke about who we are as teachers - and what it takes to make it in this profession. He said something I found inherently brilliant: begin by learning. Begin by learning, and never stop.
Curiosity races through my veins most days. I think it may be the storyteller in me. I look at a person walking down the street and I wonder where he has been...what his story is...where he hopes to go. I hear of a new novel and I'm immediately drawn to the plot - how did the author think of this? Was it a dream? Has it been festering inside for years? How long did it take for her to write it?
And then there's teaching. Who will I have this year? What will our discussions bring? Will the students like the books we read? Will they even care at all? Most importantly: how can I be the best teacher for these teenagers sitting in front of me - waiting for me to speak?
It's a tough job - a rewarding one, but a tough responsibility. Learning is essential. I constantly need to be reading...writing...researching...soaking in everything I hear about AP Literature in order to effectively turn around and get my students - you guys - to start thinking on your own.
I know it's the beginning of a new year. My clock says 6:37am and I'm already at the school - brainstorming, creating, drafting, dreaming...my biggest hope for this year is that you use this first week as a catalyst. Storytelling - in all its wonder - is the backbone of civilization. We will begin by learning what it means to find stories that resonate with us - and why stories grotesque in nature mirror our life so closely. We will begin by learning to soak in the words of an author and allow the how and what to simmer for a while. We will begin by learning the value of setting pen to paper and writing our own story - fictional or based on our perception of reality.
We will begin....and we won't ever stop.
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