Tuesday, February 24, 2009

meta-observation?

Last Friday--11:50-12:50 Young Writers Conference in Townsend Hall/Mindful Writing for Teachers

The plan was for me to offer an hour long seminar on mindfulness and writing, with extra time to construct meaning with other forms of media. I arrived in 303 A with my rolling cart of stuff and several auxillary bags. I was delighted to offer this service, as I truly believe in the power of mindful writing--and was also going to get paid for this session-- enough to buy a new set of ink cartridges for my printer, which has separate color cartridges that run dry at the most inopportune times.

I soon found out that my class could begin only after introductions had been made, and two other people briefed everyone on this summer's Missouri Writing Project offerings and opportunities for professional development in other places.

We were finally able to begin. I asked everyone to make a list of wishes. I advised them that these were wishes if time and money were readily available--or at least not roadblocks. After the lists were finished (about 4-5 minutes worth of writing) we listened to a mindful breathing exercise. The room grew very quiet, and people seemed to be complying with the idea of sitting calmly and breathing deeply. After meditation, I asked them to focus on one wish and write down an action list--a way to make it happen. While everyone else wrote, I did too, planning my studio in our walk-in attic. Instead of a vague dream/wish, I have a floor plan of what I'd like to put where, and how I want to arrange my many supplies for my hobbies. I'm one step closer to making this wish a reality. After everyone seemed finished writing (and they didn't take long--maybe 4-5 minutes again) I attempted to get them to talk about what they had just experienced, and they looked back at me with "I'm not going to tell you anything" looks--two people eventually spoke up, but everyone was still very tightly strung. I can understand tension with a new experience, but some of these folks seemed almost hostile to the idea of meditation. This was a very different reaction from last year's group, and I don't know why it was so. I know people are on edge from the economy but I would think they would welcome the opportunity to set aside their tension, if only for a few minutes.

We moved on to supplies. I brought all the stuff I brought to our class, plus painting supplies--but guess what? No one wanted to paint. I think there must have been trauma involving tempera in their childhood, because no one would risk putting a brush to paper. They were a little better with the art supplies, but looked at me doubtfully when I assured them that they would not be judged--they weren't buying the "this is a mistake free exercise" reassurance. Eventually, supplies spread out and they began to relax a little. Someone had chocolate, and passed it around, which helped. About the time everyone finally, finally got in the multi-modal groove, it was time for them to rejoin their students. One of my former students stayed to help me clean up, then hurried off to claim her students.

Why was it so difficult for these teachers, who are familiar with the learning process, to allow themselves to learn something new? Was it my presentation? I am a bit succinct at times, but I think I told them enough, reassured them enough, and smiled enough that they should have loosened up sooner and more completely. Next time, I need a bigger list of the benefits of meditation and writing--splashier somehow, or more convincing. Do I need a commercial with a spokesmodel to advise them that this is truly the thing to do? Surely not. Is this too woo woo for teachers in small towns? It shouldn't be, but it did seem to disconcert them, which was certainly not my intention. What was with the aversion to paint? Worried about getting messy? Worried that they will look foolish? Was it just an unwillingness to drag a dripping painting back home? Thinking about this experience is valuable, because I've generated concrete examples of what to consider to make the next lesson as close to flawless as possible: I want to edify, electrify and imbue them with enthusiasm for the whole mindful writing process.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Collage

Collage Deborah Holland February 17, 2009

Observing and reporting on my writing process in a detached manner has been an extremely helpful exercise. My writing process is all over the place, and what I find astonishing is how much other work I do to support the process. My brain seems to require both visual and kinesthetic activity to process my thoughts and move my writing forward. I often resort to multi-tasking despite the fact that it shatters any mindfulness I have going-- I’m still writing in my head, as I mop the floor or fold a load of clothes. It is more of a luxury to knit, or to go sit in the tilty massage/heat jiggle chair and allow myself to become lost in my thoughts. I seldom work from an outline, and I usually start writing in the middle of my topic, then loop back and the forward as I write.

I spent most of last Monday thinking about what I want to write about the way I write, and although this practice thinking was useful, it was also task avoidance—words on paper may be modified and added to—but words in my head are still intangible. My biggest writing struggle centers around allowing my words to become visible – and I argue with myself as to what form would suit the writing best. I prefer composing on my computer, but if a printer is not readily available, then I’d rather write in longhand because I prefer to edit a tangible, not electronic copy.

How do I avoid writing? Let me count the ways:
I load the dishwasher, start supper in the Crockpot, start a load of clothes in the washer and move the clothes in the washer into the dryer—I check my e-mail, and then follow any promising leads regarding electronic dallying. This week, I shopped for comfort items—a padded lap desk so that I can recline and write instead of perching on the edge of the chair with my legs twisted sideways, reaching up to write on my laptop balancing precariously on a short barstool. I also found and acquired the most comfortable shoes on earth and tracked down portable laptop speakers and a 4GB SD card for my camera. (Then read the Office Depot advertisement and saw an 8GB for close to the same price, and a better deal on the speakers—luckily have not unpacked those yet, so back they go for an upgrade.)
What have I done to get ready to write the article on imagination? I’ve posted my root writing on Google documents and wrote a note to Kathy. (She wrote to me and suggested we collaborate, as we presented together last Fall at NCTE in San Antonio.) I also added English Journal to my NCTE subscriptions so I could look at EJ online and read the particulars of the call for manuscripts. Now that the skeleton of an article exists on Google doc, I’ll see where I can add to it. I still need to write to Kathy and tell her the name of the other book that I think she needs—growing up digital—and start taking some notes about the points we need to hit in the article. I also need to print out a copy of the multi-modal literacy guidelines and also a copy of 21st century guidelines for literacy, just so we can refer to it while writing.

My writing process has evolved though the years. As an undergraduate, my writing fuel included Diet Coke and a large supply of Double Bubble chewing gum and/or peanut M & Ms. I would read all the sources I planned to use and then bookmark the places where I thought I should use quotes, then wait until the night before and whip out an essay. These days, I start writing much earlier and require fresh tea and instrumental music. Chocolate in any form still helps, but is not essential to the process. I’ve noticed that I bribe and make deals with myself in order to get fragments of work done. If you are wondering, the reward for finishing this work is stopping by Cool Stuff to see if they still have separate meditation bowl stick implements, because I bought a brass bowl yesterday that has great potential as a meditation bowl. I wonder if a wooden spoon would work? Sometimes, my reward is a nap, or a stroll in a garden, or making time for watercolor painting.

With a recent classroom remark in mind, I finally sat down and wrote just for a few minutes-- while watching Get Smart with my family. Not an ideal writing environment, but I’m still able to write in a fairly cogent manner. How fortunate am I to know touch typing, so I don’t need to look at the keys. Writing for a few minutes at a time may be my best strategy in the future, given my hummingbird (much better than ADD) nature. Upon reflection, my writing is much like a collage—I move words around, then add and delete until my essay assumes its final form and is launched into the world to be discovered by others. I’m working on non-attachment, as it is still a little difficult to release my writing, but my detachment grows with every launch.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Another small piece

Watching myself write this week has been such a revelation! How very informative to notice but not judge the many activities I generate that seem to center around my act of writing. I've also noticed that my son and husband impact my writing in several ways. Even the birds and Miss Daisy, my hamster, get into the act. I can be ripping along on the computer, typing like mad, and am gradually lured out of my trance because Miss Daisy is barking at me, demanding attention and the special seeds I hand feed her. If I move from the study to the den, my cockatiel will occasionally pause his conversation with our parakeet and/or the outside birds to advise me that
"I'm a pretty bird" which is my cue to go over to his cage and agree with him, maybe even encouraging him fly out and sit on my shoulder, or begin his hobby of perforating and scraps of folding paper. Clearly, I should head for a different area of my home or choose somewhere else entirely.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Autho-ethno first draft

Well, I’ve spent most of the day thinking about what I want to write about the way I write, and think this thinking may be useful, but it is also task avoidance—words on paper may be modified and added to—but words in my head don’t actually exist yet. How do I avoid writing? Let me count the ways: I load the dishwasher, start supper in the crockpot, start a load of clothes in the washer and move the clothes in the washer into the dryer—I check my e-mail, then follow any promising leads regarding electronic dallying Do I have fresh tea? Better start the kettle. I think chocolate would help. Better check in with my parents and see if they are still alive—yes, they are. Those boxes need collapsing for recycling… Sit down and write just for a few minutes—even though I’m writing while watching Get Smart with my family, I’m still getting work done. How fortunate am I to know touch typing, so I don’t need to look at the keys. This wasn’t the case when I taught myself to type on a typewriter without marked keys when I was in the third grade…but I digress. What have I done to get ready to write this article? I’ve posted my root writing on google documents and wrote a note to Kathy. She wrote to me and suggested we collaborate, as we presented a variation this Fall at NCTE in San Antonio. I also went on and added English Journal to my NCTE subscriptions so I could look at EJ online and read the particulars of the call for manuscripts. Tomorrow, I’ll go onto google docs and see where I can add to it, and also need to write to Kathy and tell her the name of the other book that I think she needs—growing up digital—and start taking some notes about the points we need to hit in the article. I also need to print out a copy of the multi-modal literacy guidelines and also a copy of 21st century guidelines for literacy, just so we can refer to it while writing.
Debbie
Retrieved from "http://comp.missouri.edu/wiki/index.php/Talk:Assignment_sheet"

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Joseph Cornell

Joseph Cornell was an amazing artist; I admire his assemblages of found objects and the fact that he obviously felt compelled to make meaning in this manner. The brief interactive film at
http://www.pem.org/cornell/# is a perfect little showcase for his art. I don't think he would have wanted to talk much about his art--his art did his speaking for him.