(Internship hours to date: 33 hours, 45 minutes).
I had an awesome experience this week. During one of my consultations, I had the
opportunity to work with a bright, lovely multilingual student. Her paper was a persuasive piece, and she was
very concerned about her writing being understandable. Grammar was paramount to her—so was the
concern for being clear in what she was trying to say.
What was so awesome about the appointment was that it was
one of those “ah-ha” moments when so much of our in-class training and
theorizing converged into an event of happening:
-She was nervous from the onset, so I
chatted with her about her major and pointed out that my brother-in-law has the
same type of career she is aspiring to have.
This sparked a first smile out of her.
-As we read
through her essay, I saw her uncertainty chip away to reveal confidence
whenever I praised something specific about her writing.
-I taught
her some tenets of comma usage that she was able to apply, out of her own train
of thinking and revision, later on in the text.
-During a
point when we had just made multiple tweaks and revisions, I noticed another
grammar rule to point out. However,
since she seemed to be getting overwhelmed, I caught myself and remembered the
idea of not teaching too many things at once.
So, instead of introducing another rule, I took a moment to outwardly
admire the ideas in her writing and how important and valid they are. I saw what was a stirring of overload melt
away and become another smile instead.
-There were
some moments in the text when I could tell she just couldn’t quite place how
she wanted to say something. Thanks to
the encouragements of directive tutoring, I happily gave examples of how she
could say what it was she was trying to say.
I saw the relief in her eyes, but more importantly, I saw how the
sentence structure registered in her language bank. Something about that “click” told me that she
learned how to say something she’ll be able to emulate from then on. Thus, her English skills can continue to
grow.
-At one
point in the text, I went all nondirective on her and had her pause from
focusing on the paper and tell me, in her own free-flowing words, what the
point was that she was trying to make.
It took a moment of silence, but her nonverbal cues were showing me that
it wasn’t awkward for her. So I waited,
and the words that finally came out of her were just right.
All of these wonderful things happened in that one session,
and I loved it! Afterwards, when I was
walking her out towards the door and offering one last bit of candy from
Kermit’s bowl, it took every last smidge of discipline for me to restrain from
galloping around the coffee table like a giddy unicorn. That’s how happy I was.
The process of
accompanying someone’s writing process reminds me of a lyrical dance. As the writer, she undoubtedly has a natural
rhythm about her—a sway to the tune of what can become something grand. However, talent and knack isn’t enough; composing
is a central part of turning toe-tapping and hum-humming into designed
movements. This is where the consultant
steps in. I guide her. I help her translate what she is hearing from
herself into an expressive form of art that can communicate her expressions to
everyone else. I tuck her elbow in here,
adjust her posture there, and teach her how.
Sometimes I show her a step; sometimes I make her show me. Most of all, I help her reach beyond the
mechanics of counting steps and pointing toes, and she reaches a place where
thinking and mimicking and supposing become something else entirely. On her own, she is dancing.
