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.
2 comments:
You might be on to something about small towns. I grew up in a town of about 2000 people in Nebraska, and I suspect the vast majority of people in that community would be skeptical at best of meditation/mindfulness exercises. I've had some similar discomfort with these exercises, but have been working through it. This is a real cultural problem that should be taken into account when planning to work with rural people. Anything that seems "new age"-ish or hippie-like or from outside the Christian-American mainstream will be met with a certain amount of distrust in communities like this. I'm not sure how you can overcome this in a short session. If you had repeated sessions, I would expect eventual progress with some participants--but some people just won't open up and try new things.
I wonder if renaming meditation would help? Breathing practice?
Deep thinking? Deep relaxation?
Stress relief? Meditation really is beneficial--mentally and physically--and my intention was for teachers to have less, not more stress at the end of class. I think you are right about the need for multiple sessions. I was just disconcerted--last year's much larger group got into the spirit of meditation and then wrote, drew, painted and glued until past time to go.
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