Determined not to squander my summer as my camp-director job fell through and long days of quarantine stretched before me, I signed up for a series of writing workshops through Hugo House, a Seattle-based writing organization. I hoped that these classes would motivate me to continue my own creative work, as I am someone who is definitely driven by deadlines and external expectations. I also hoped to assemble a story that I felt was sufficient to include in my graduate school applications. I ended up taking two classes: the first, a one-off about writing sibling dynamics; the second, a revision course where students worked to improve a single prewritten piece over time. The sibling class didn't connect well with me - it was a lot of older writers reflecting on harsh childhoods, and I didn't feel that my own experience connected well or that I came away having learned much. The second class was much more helpful. I worked on a piece I had written for my Gothic literature class in the spring. My classmates had a lot of different suggestions for places I could go with my revision, and though my final draft actually wound up closer to my original than I had expected, I still appreciated the chance to explore possibilities for the work and stretch my thinking when it came to serious storytelling. Attached below is the feedback I received on the first and second drafts of my piece, which I utilized to revise subsequently.
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On March 11, 2020, nine days before my flight was scheduled to depart, I received this email announcing the cancellation of my study abroad program due to COVID-19. Given the growing prevalence and danger of the novel coronavirus in the days leading up, this announcement was not entirely unexpected. However, studying abroad in London particularly had been a goal of mine since before even starting college. I had structured my major credits around the experience, had completed all the orientation except for the one on the ground, and then the journey was yanked away before it had really begun. A small part of me was relieved; I had been nervous to go away so far for so long, and the cancellation allowed me to linger in my comfort zone instead of pushing myself out of it. However, a larger part of me was crushed by this loss, especially because the ongoing nature of the COVID pandemic means that I will probably not have another chance to study abroad during college. I am determined to find another chance to spend time experiencing another corner of the world even if not during my college days, though the pandemic makes it hard to foresee when another such opportunity might arise.
As the world moved online with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, so too did my job teaching children's karate classes. It only took a week or two for my work to shift their teaching modem online for group classes, but it took a little longer to figure out logistics of connecting with students one-on-one for purposes such as testing. We ended up assembling a comprehensive schedule of private lessons, that spanned most weekdays, particularly as many students were no longer in school during the day. I ended up teaching privates three days a week, as well as group classes on Saturday morning. I spent some time over the summer subbing classes nearly every day, which was incredibly draining, and eventually switched my schedule to teaching privates and classes just on Fridays and Saturdays with the start of the new school year.
Teaching online was difficult for me. I've always had an easier time teaching group classes, performing, one might say, for a class of students, then spending the time and energy to connect and engage students individually, even for only ten minutes at a time. I would end shifts feeling drained and burnt out from maintaining a smile and energy for hours on Zoom. As much as I love my role in my karate school, months of virtual classes have made me feel less connected to the work I love. Though I mourn this loss, at the same time, it may make it easier for me to, upon graduation and starting the next stage of my life, finally allow me to step away. At the suggestion of one of my bosses, I began a series of live virtual read-alouds of the Harry Potter series on our karate school's Facebook page as a service to our community, designed to engage students that were now stuck at home long-term. Harry Potter has long been a happy place for me, and I wanted to bring this story to all the children I teach (and their parents and families and even my grandparents, who became my most devoted of audiences) during such a devastating time. I had no idea when I began the series in early April that this would unfold into a project that spanned six months of daily commitment. Even as the read-alouds were something I enjoyed, they were at the same time an obligation that I had to work into my day, make sure were filmed and uploaded and ready to share. To me, the read-alouds were a small way of spreading joy, a brief task in my day, but for others the project appeared a monumental feat. As I concluded the project shortly before the start of the new school year in October, I received an abundance of positive feedback from my boss and others in the community. I was happy to have the chance to produce something that both preserved this moment in time and at the same time could make people smile.
Seattle Arts and Lectures, the organization I intern for, opens each of their lectures with a reading from one of their students in their Writers in the Schools program. On February 6th, I was offered the opportunity to be the student reader to open for Paisley Rekdal, the Utah State Poet Laureate. My short stories professor was so impressed at my finding an opportunity to share my work that she even let me leave class early to attend the event. I have attended dozens of SAL events previously, listening to renowned authors and student readers alike. I was honored and excited to be included among these speakers at this event, and I look forward to more opportunities to share my work in the future.
The story of this piece starts with an email I received from my Honors 230 professor. Actually, it started long before that, but that's the event that prompted the immediate story.
On Tuesday, Nov. 5, Prof. Soder forwarded an Op-Ed to our class, as a tool to analyze rhetoric and argument using a real-life societal example. The piece was an inflammatory attempt to condemn Seattle Public Schools' advanced learning programs. I myself grew up in this program and benefitted from it greatly, and have siblings and friends to which the same applied. I'd been following the arguments and circular debates surrounding advanced learning in SPS for years, and even attempted to give my pitch for the importance of gifted programs in a student focus group when selecting the Supt. that would eventually be Juneau. I felt my view was never properly represented, and this op-ed was the final straw. I worked without stop for all of Tuesday and Wednesday, writing drafts of my statement and sending them to my parents, friends, and professor alike for feedback. On Thursday, I submitted my final draft to the Seattle Times. Three hours later, the Times contacted me saying they wanted to publish my piece, posted online on Friday and published in print Saturday. I immediately agreed. The response I received after my piece was published was overwhelming. Though my mother had warned me not to read the comments, and I knew firsthand the viciousness of people online, especially surrounding a contentious topic like gifted ed, I couldn't help myself. The responses were overwhelmingly positive. No one outright disagreed with me. Many of them praising my writing (which both flattered me and made me chuckle), some offering further insights into the topic at hand (which I was thrilled to see; this was exactly what I wanted - to provide a new viewpoint and promote an ongoing conversation.) People contacted me directly - through my UW email, and even the contact form on this Honors portfolio. Almost more incredible than the anonymous online responses were the responses I got from the people around me. Several classmates who had also grown up in the advanced learning program contacted me to thank me for writing the piece and representing their shared viewpoint. Family friends and parents of my students came up to me to compliment my writing and bravery alike. I felt empowered: exactly the feeling I described the HCC program providing for advanced learners in my piece. I was proud that I sought out an opportunity to speak my mind and use my words and my voice for an issue I care about. I had my first session as an assistant in a WITS classroom this morning, helping in two 5th grade classrooms at TOPS K-8. I was very excited to experience an elementary writing classroom for the first time in years, and the first time from a teacher's perspective. Because I am also planning to use my classroom time as a chance to take observations for an ethnography project in my Teaching Writing class, I recorded some notes about the experience for posterity, which seemed a pertinent artifact to post here: 10.18.19
This was my first day in the classroom, and I had no clue what to expect. Turns out that Karen ran most of the lesson, with the classroom teacher overseeing mostly organization and behavior (with mixed success – the standards for discipline were lower in this class than I’m used to. More on this later.) The students seemed confused and excited both to see me there, and were unusually attentive when I introduced myself. The lesson started on the rug, where Karen read aloud from a book of American “tall tales,” then had the students share their favorite exaggerations from the story. They then brainstormed ‘tall tale’ character names, using conventional first names paired with objects or natural events for crazy, entertaining last names. The lesson wrapped up with the students returning to desks beside their ‘writing partner’ and filling out a worksheet describing a larger-than-life character that would be the basis for the stories they would write. The atmosphere of the classroom was fairly relaxed. Although both Karen and the classroom teacher asked for quiet on several occasions, there remained a low hum of conversation among the students throughout the lesson. The morning group was a bit more talkative than the afternoon, particularly during their worksheet time. It seemed to be acceptable for students to sit wherever they wanted for this time, and a cluster of perhaps five or six students remained on the rug, laughing, chattering, and poking each other’s ears to freeze and unfreeze them. However, when I looked at their worksheets, they were completed, and questions I asked the students about their character ideas were met with enthusiasm. There was a range of reactions from the other students when I asked them this question, from excited descriptions of the character they were creating to confused stares and a perceived frustration or lack of interest, even when I offered prompting or idea generation strategies. Creative writing isn’t for everyone, I suppose. Overall, the students seemed excited to have “Ms. Karen” and I as visitors, and generally interested in what we had to share with them. I’m excited to see how the process of writing unfolds for them – we didn’t do very much actual writing at all today. I’m interested to see their ideas develop into stories, going from abstract to concrete on the page. This fall, I applied to be an intern at Seattle Arts and Lectures, a wonderful Seattle-based literary organization. I had done work with SAL in the past as a finalist in their Youth Poet Laureate cohort, and upon coming to UW made it a goal to work with them again in the future. Applying to be a Writers in the Schools (WITS) intern seemed the perfect opportunity. I could get involved with the SAL program I was most excited about and fond of, and gain valuable experience by working at the kind of literary organization I could most definitely see myself joining one day. This process wasn't without its stresses. This was the first time I had ever written a resume, and even though I believed it to be a rather low-pressure application (since I knew and adored the people I was submitting it to), I still took it very seriously, delving into Internet articles and advice so I could properly format and compose it. In the end, my work paid off. After a lovely interview, I was accepted for the position, working two days a week, with office work on Thursday mornings, and time as a classroom assistant on Fridays! (one of my goals for the internship that I was ecstatic to see realized.) What was more, I was working in a classroom alongside Seattle author Karen Finneyfrock, who I had previously taken a writing class from at Hugo House, and absolutely love. I'm so excited for the opportunities this position will bring me, and can't wait to get started!
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