Beyond the Book
Our Writing Center tutors go through a lot of training, from conferences and presentations to active fieldwork. Our trainings are long and frequent. We like to be prepared for anything. Got a paper requiring Chicago Style? We’ve got a tutor for that. Not sure when to use ‘that’ vs. ‘which’? Take a look at the handout we’ve created.
But I’ll let you in on a little secret:
Sometimes we don’t know what to do. At least by book standards.
As a senior tutor, the times that I don’t know what to do have become less and less each year. I’ve developed a sense of what most teachers expect out of their students, something that has only come from four years of working at our Writing Center. Though I am no expert on every style of citing, I can confidently answer most questions without a second thought. So when something throws me off and leaves me dumbstruck, I take notice.
Two weeks ago I had my first experience at a community library as a Marian University tutor. I didn’t know what to expect and hid my slight twinge of nervousness beneath a cheerful smile. “There probably won’t be anyone there for the first two weeks,” my boss assured me. As I walked into the dimly lit room and set up our shiny new sign, I realized he was wrong: we already had two people waiting for us.
The other tutor, KJ, took the first client and immediately started up a rapport while I waited for my client to approach the table. This client, we’ll call him Jalean, was nervous- his hands were shaking before he even sat down. He slowly pulled out a faux black leather binder and carefully laid out his papers and pen. “What can I help you with today?” I asked. “Well, I, um… I’m a preacher but I just really struggle with connecting my words,” he said, looking at me hopefully.
Me too, actually, in that moment. What did he mean? “Do you struggle with getting the words on paper or with other grammatical issues?” I probed. “My papers, they just don’t have the connection that I want the audience to experience. I don’t know,” he mumbled and added, “I’m a preacher.”
I’ve had a lot of tutorials with students that need support getting started, but I wouldn’t say it is my strongest point. Everything that I’ve learned about the process has come from observing Aaron Wilder. He is approachable, yet challenging: in essence, he doesn’t let “I don’t know” suffice as an answer. In that moment, I decided to channel my inner Aaron.
“Let’s try a stream of consciousness exercise,” I begin, “It basically means that you write whatever you want for a few minutes, without thinking about possible grammatical mistakes. It’s a practice to help get past the initial block you might be feeling.” Noticing his eyes had gone from nervous to slightly petrified, I added, “To make it easier, why don’t you write about your day?” He nodded and with my signal, began.
I watched him struggle to get words on paper. While it’s easy to tell students or community members to write whatever they want without fear of correction, it takes a lot of mental effort to overcome perfectionism. By the end of three minutes Jalean had about three lines. “I didn’t get much,” he said, disappointment resounding in his voice.
I paused. This wasn’t how stream of consciousness was supposed to go. The paper was supposed to be filled with messy writing, not neat sentences. Clients were supposed to feel inspired, motivated, and free. What could I do differently?
At that moment I caught a very faint whiff of my vanilla perfume. Perhaps what this client needed went beyond mimicking what I’d seen. Perhaps this client needed a sensory experience.
“Now this time,” I said, looking him in the eye, “I want you to choose a sense and describe the same day, using that sense to add details to the story.”
“Like smell?” He asked. “Exactly,” I nodded, smiling, “like smell.”
This time I watched him write fast and smooth, barely stopping to lift his pen to dot and cross. Every few lines or so a smile would emerge. All too soon, his time was up.
“I wrote about the birds I heard this morning,” he shared, before I even had the chance to get a word in, “and how their songs remind me of how blessed I am.” His hands rose and fell as he animatedly explained, “Doing this exercise was like lighting a fire in my soul! It was exactly what I needed! Thank you, thank you!”
We continued our tutorial for the duration of an hour, discussing additional resources he could use to improve his writing, but I kept returning to the moment of realization when I first saw his eyes sparkle with confidence.
Where our trainings end our intuition must begin. This isn’t a blind intuition but one that comes through being intrinsically connected to all of humanity. Perhaps we are more than the box we have put ourselves in: perhaps in our courage we are breathing fire starters, helping souls find their own lights.
And that is something no book will ever teach us.
-Alyee
