On Creative Writing Club

Sometime after the first week of club meetings I stopped telling people that I “taught” creative writing in the villages. The truth is that you can’t really teach someone to be creative. All you can do is create an environment which fosters the growth of their creativity.

Every time we met, the kids would spend the first 10 minutes writing based off of a prompt I provided for them. Sometimes I would write with them, partially out of selfish motivations because I like to write, but also because I found that it encouraged them to do the same. Seeing me write, and often struggle, would give them some sort of push to put pen to paper.

They grappled with the idea that the text they produced wasn’t to be handed in to me. I wasn’t going to grade it or edit it. It was an exercise designed to get them in the mood to write. Even when I told them not to worry about grammar and just write whatever came to mind, they would still get hung up on the rules. I could see them agonizing over how to conjugate “to run” in the past tense (English is a bitch of a language at times, I really feel for them).

I found that beginning each club like this was a good way to get them to start thinking in English again and also to boost their confidence a bit. There’s something very satisfying about seeing yourself produce text in a foreign language. Even if it’s mainly nonsense, at least seeing the words come together to form sentences feels good. And that’s the first step to writing in any language, your own or someone else’s: just sit down and write.

The next ten minutes would be spent “Checking In” (thanks Public Allies).

We go around in a circle and everyone says how they are feeling in that moment. I encouraged them to be honest because if they’re having a shitty day, I want to know. Not because there’s something I can do about it, but because it lets me gauge their mood. Especially when working with teenagers, being aware of feelings is important.

The typical answer was “good” and it was often difficult to get them to think of a different way to express themselves. In a foreign language is easy to go to the words that you feel confident in, even if they don’t exactly express what you mean. I could be bleeding out of my eyes but in French I would probably just say “my eyes are red”. 

During Check In, everyone also must answer a question that I have posed. I usually tried to make it relevant to the subject at hand so if we’re talking about sensory detail I ask “What’s your favorite fruit?” Later I’ll have them describe the fruit using all of the senses. If the subject is characterization I ask “What’s your best quality?” Later I’ll have them point out the qualities of their protagonist and if they can’t that means they have a flat character. It’s a sneaky way of getting them to think about what I want to talk about before we even get there.

These were the two constants in every club meeting: Free Write and Check In. I still don’t consider myself a teacher exactly, but I had a lot of fun finding ways to incorporate lessons into seemingly insignificant exercises. Basically I liked to trick them into learning.

Last week I said goodbye to the kids I have been working with for the past two months. I bought them each one of those pens that can write in three different colors and a mini Twix bar. I bought the pen because it’s cool (and good for editing) and the Twix because I like Twix. I wanted to give them a parting gift but living on a volunteer salary is tough, hence: pen and candy.

I arrived early and arranged the treats on their desks along with a printed copy of our literary magazine; a basic compilation of all of their stories. I expected to have to talk over the sound of candy wrappers and munching. I was sure there would be sugar-fueled shenanigans.

What I experienced instead was two hours of them sitting in their seats, as usual, carefully reading the stories they had written and providing feedback for one another. Listening to my questions and offering insightful answers.

The Twix remained untouched.

“Eat!” I said, sounding more like my host-tatik than I ever expected I could. “Really, it’s okay, I brought them for you.”

They just smiled and said “We will Ms. Maral, later.”

I have never seen such self-control exhibited by high schoolers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such self-control exhibited by adults.

I was reminded of the Stanford Marshmallow Test. For those of you who aren’t familiar, the very brief explanation is that toddlers who were able to practice self-control and avoid eating a marshmallow for the longest (with the promise of receiving two later) grew up to have “better life outcomes”  in adulthood than the children who couldn’t help it and just gobbled up the sweet treat within seconds.

In truth, I was a bit mad that my students were so well behaved because that meant that I couldn’t indulge and eat chocolate in class. Only joking. Well, partially joking. I love chocolate.

The point being that even though my students weren’t toddlers, and have had much more time to learn self-control, I still find it incredibly impressive that they could sit for two hours while being stared down by a cookie covered in caramel and chocolate. I mean what are they, made of steel?

This being the last day of over two months of meeting with these kids, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should have known they’d be better behaved than me. I should’ve known I’d be the toddler to bread down and sneak a bite when I thought no one was looking.