Okay, so word on the street is that we newbies are getting
put on the schedule next week. What the
what?! Seriously, though—super
exciting. I’m giddy like you just put a
fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon roll in front of me. I’m also scared because it feels like the
moment of truth; after the past six weeks of a consultant boot camp of sorts,
the push has come to shove, and I’m being tossed in the water to see if I’ll
sink or swim. I realize this sounds
pretty theatrical, but my emotions really kind of roll this way. It’s part of why I’m so passionate about
things like, um, being a writing consultant.
Anyways, as
I anticipate my first consultation, I feel like I’m seeing a whole plethora of
learning material converge. What will my
personal protocol for welcoming the writer be?
What if I get a student who barely speaks English? What if I get a writer with a crazy Chemistry
paper? What if I get an asshole?!
What’s
interesting is that, as I get past my initial panic and buckle down on how I
envision next week to be, I see a lot of pieces start falling into place. I’m cognizant of how intentional everything
is—from the words I use to greet a writer, to the nonverbal communication I
convey, and even the way I contribute to cultivating the overall climate that
our writing center is supposed to have.
I’m grateful for this special space on campus, and I hope I can serve it
well.
As smitten
as I am about the upcoming opportunities for diving into students’ writing,
I’ve been thinking about the asshole discussions. I’m not losing sleep over the idea of having
to deal with one, but all of the in-class conversation we’ve had on the matter
has gotten me to thinking of the myriad levels of willingness and commitment
from other students. There’s the downright
terd-bucket that you just want to handle with a Chuck-Norris-throat-punch, the
stubborn writer who says much and listens little, the indifferent student who
was forced to visit the WC…the different shapes and sizes of every writer’s
workability is intimidating to consider as I try to picture them. Ultimately, what this mental
meandering boils down to for me is this: how do I get writers engaged in the
process? I know this answer varies from
one situation to another because of what each person brings to the table, but I
want to be prepared with certain strategies in my arsenal. What will my approach, in detail, look like?
One thing
I’m sure of is that I want to convince each writer that his or her voice is one
worth listening to. It saddens me to see
someone believe he or she is not a good writer.
It’s almost like a self-inflicted, damning sentence. Also, I believe it often has less to do with
the writer’s potential and more to do with not having had a good teacher. The power of words is so magnificent to me,
and I want every student to realize he or she has the capacity to wield it.
Ready or
not, here I come!
You pose the most important question of all here, Gretchen: how do I get writers engaged in the process? Honestly, this question applies to both consulting and teaching (which I see in your future!). To some extent it's up to each of us to bring some energy to the table (the consultant and the writer). However, I do believe that our energy can change the tide. If we're enthusiastic about their topic, about their growth as a writer, we have the opportunity to influence the tenor of the session. The same goes for teaching! It's my personal opinion that the content of the course matters less than the approach of it. When I tell people that I teach grammar, their eyes tend to glaze over. They have no idea!
ReplyDeleteSo in this capacity, Gretchen, you're golden! You're going to bring so much positive energy into each session. You have no idea, just yet, about the impact that will have on the writers you're going to work with. Lucky them. :)
mk