February 22, 2016 - 13:24
Chapter 8: A Letter from Mr. Wit
I have always been a quiet student, but throughout middle school and the beginning of high school, I became a shyer person and I was more anxious about sharing my thoughts and ideas with classmates. In freshman year of high school, I never spoke up in class or raised my hand unless I absolutely had to. I felt that my contributions to the class were stupid and pointless. The thought of talking in front of my teachers and peers made me incredibly nervous and whenever I was forced into answering a question or sharing my thoughts with the class, my face would turn completely red, even though there was no real pressure for me to fear. My heart would start pounding, even for minutes after I had already spoken. On the rare occasion that I decided to raise my hand of my own volition, I would already have written down exactly what I wanted to say in the margin of my notes so that I could read it off to the class, word for word, as if I was thinking it on the spot.
Then, in junior year, I signed up for creative writing class with Mr. Wit. I had always enjoyed writing stories (see chapter three), and I was eager to improve my skills as an author. Going into the class, I expected that I would be spending most of the time writing in my notebook or revising old work. Little did I know, this class would involve sharing my work one-on-one with a partner, sharing in small groups, and even sharing in a writing workshop, which meant I had to read my own writing to the entire class and then respond to their feedback. It was my own worst nightmare.
But Mr. Wit did his best to create an open and non-judgmental environment for his creative writing students. He made sure that everyone learned each other’s names, which was a challenge because there were about thirty students in the class. He encouraged participation and he set clear standards for everyone in terms of offering positive criticism and receiving that criticism gracefully as well. Mr. Wit’s classroom was one of respect and understanding. However, I still dreaded the thought of sharing my writing with others. I was very self-conscious about my work and very critical of myself as a writer. There was only one short story I had written all year that I genuinely enjoyed, which I titled Authentic.
Then one day, Mr. Wit was sharing one of his own latest poems with the class and asking us to offer feedback. He prefaced his piece by stating that it was inspired by a story written by one of his students. When Mr. Wit began to read his piece aloud, it sounded strangely familiar. Then it hit me that his first line was a twist on the first line from Authentic, my own short story. It was my piece that had inspired Mr. Wit. If my teacher liked my writing enough to write his own story based on mine, I thought, then maybe my pieces are not half bad, maybe I have something to be proud of. From that moment on, I started to be more comfortable with my own work and I even ventured to share it with the class on occasion.
Throughout the school year, I became more and more confident in the space that Mr. Wit created and, after a few months, I was even sharing my work with the class regularly. At the end of the year, our class had a slam poem day, where everyone had to write their own original spoken word poetry and perform. In the beginning of the year, I had been dreading slam poem day, but when it came around, I was happy to perform my own spoken word poetry in front of my classmates in our high school’s auditorium. My poetry was well received by my class and I continued to write spoken word poetry in my free time. In my first year of college, I became club treasurer for Spokes, our spoken word poetry club at Bryn Mawr College, and I regularly perform my work at our open mics and poetry slams.
At the end of the year, each student had to submit a writing portfolio which included all of their favorite poems and stories from the past school year, along with many different reflections. After Mr. Wit graded the portfolios, he returned them to each student, along with a personal letter. I did not know what to expect from this letter, but I had heard from other students that he put a lot of time into making each letter very special. I didn’t quite believe it because Mr. Wit had sixty creative writing students altogether across two classes. I remember the last day of junior year, when he handed back everyone’s work and told us it was okay to open the letters and read them there in class. I was surprised at first because he didn’t start out by talking about my writing at all, he started out by saying that he loved my sense of humor and he thought that class would not be the same without me. I almost started to cry. A teacher had never made such thoughtful and personal comments about me being a positive presence in their classroom before and it really meant a lot to me.
Reflecting back on the change from being a shy, nervous student who could not even raise her hand into becoming a person that is capable of communicating her personal and emotional thoughts to complete strangers through slam poetry is very bizarre to me. I credit Mr. Wit for playing a part in this personal growth because he created a positive, open community of creative writers where I found a place to comfortably communicate my ideas to others. He helped me to cultivate the confidence I needed. By the end of my senior year of high school, I was more confident in myself, in my work and in sharing my thoughts with others. I felt more prepared to go to college and be a part of group discussions. The creative writing chapter of my educational story is important because I learned not only the techniques and tricks of a good author, I also gained a new confidence in myself.