How will 2011 be remembered?

Will it be the earthquake and tsunami in Japan with the resulting devastation?

Will it be the Arab Spring with the rise of the people and the toppling of governments?

Will it be the economic meltdowns in the eurozone with the panics and riots?

Will it be the anniversary of 9/11/01 with the memorials and the re-living?

Will it be the disappearance from the world of Bin Laden, Gaddafi, and Kim with the resulting grief and joy?

Will it be Occupy Everything with the hope of a better future?

With all this to remember 2011 by, how will 2012 be?

As I contemplate all these events, I am practicing to sing the "Et exultavit spiritusmeus" aria from the Bach Magnificat at church tomorrow. "My spirit rejoices..." And I am reminded that the same world which contained revolution and Hitler and riots and terrorists contained Bach and Copernicus and Michelangelo and Madame Curie and Byron and haikus and jazz and spirituals and...so much beauty.

So, much beauty to the world in 2012. Live each day with beauty, with grace, and with love.

So This Is Christmas, and What I Have Learned

Another term is finished. My students made it through the numerous writing assignments I've given, and I've made it through grading them. They've received their grades and their credit and will be moving on to the next class and, eventually, the next college. Yet somehow, I think I've received even more than they have.

I have found that many of my students open up to me in their writing. I think that some find the writing assignments for my class to be therapeutic for them. This is why I love teaching writing—I get to know and appreciate my students in a deeper way than teachers of other subjects aren't always able to.

This is particularly true of my students at Portland Community College, where I teach Writing 90, which is the first writing class many take. They're learning/relearning about correct sentences, paragraphs, and grammar, but they're also learning about themselves. And I'm learning right along with them—oftentimes lessons which really need to be learned, especially at Christmas.

When I am angry about having to clean up the house because we've got company coming, I remember my students who write about being homeless. When I groan about my kids not picking up after themselves, I remember my students who write about losing custody of theirs to exes. When I feel tied to the house due to some chore or another, I remember my students who write about being in jail due to drug or alcohol abuse. And when I feel like things just aren't going my way, I remember my students who write about trying to turn their own lives around and make better futures for themselves.

Thank you for my present, my students! Merry Christmas!

My first blog post -- What is the nature of writing?

I've been thinking lately about the nature of writing. Stephen King says in his book, On Writing, "Writing is refined thinking." Is all that is to it? As a writing teacher whose students are often in their first or second terms of college, I ask them, "Why do we write?" In other words, what is writing for?

My students give me various reasons, basic reasons such as communication and sharing information. Some of them have never written before, some "used" to write and want to get back into it, and some make writing a regular activity. The latter give me reason for reflection. I teach writing and expect my students to write, but I really have to make an effort to do it myself.

Part of what got me thinking about the nature of writing is my latest reading of Jean Auel's The Shelters of Stone. In bringing to life the Cro-Magnon civilizations of the Zelandonii and other peoples, she describes their brains as being capable of far more abstraction and innovation than earlier human ancestors, and it is this capability that eventually led to the preservation of knowledge and lore and history via writing.

Moving later into history, I find it interesting that most of the samples we have of the oldest kind of writing, cuneiform, are records of business transactions. I wonder if the ancient Sumerians had their own version of Occupy Wall Street.

So I have to ask myself, why do I write? I certainly write to communicate, to inform, to share. I write lists and emails and notations. I often write to vent or to work out a problem. But I like what William Stafford wrote in his essay, "A Way of Writing": when we write, we are bringing something unique into the world that hasn't been there before. I think that's the biggest reason why I write—I want, nay, need—to bring something unique into the world, something that hasn't been there before. My NaNoWriMo friends are likely more diligent than I, but they share this desire, as do all people who enjoy the act of creation.

So maybe my Great American Novel is a few years in the future, and maybe the world doesn't need Yet Another Blog, but I'm going to try my hand at it. Maybe it will be unique, maybe it won't. But I hope you enjoy it. I certainly will.