Censorship and Affirmation: Writing and Teaching

[M]ost `composition' in American schools is not authentic writing but fiddling with given material, dummy drills, or plagiarizing. A major reason American children write poorly is that they are seldom asked actually to author. James Moffett (Storm in the Mountains, 1988) I get angry when I think about the ways I was taught writing in elementary and secondary ii would have loved to have known real audiences for whom to write and authentic reasons to address them. Instead, my school-based literacy history was characterized by a subtle form of censorship, the suppression of my writing voice superseded by emphases on grammatical terms, mechanical exercises, and benign reports. Throughout my school career I felt like I was going through a motion, writing without any real sense of purpose other than meeting school requirements. Only later did I realize that the development of literacy is an evolutionary process which begins with a need to engage meaningfully with others, Denying students opportunities for engaged authoring in school limits their literacy development in the very context that is supposed to support it. We should be more mindful about this. The only time I remember actually authoring anything in school that was important to me was in sixth grade, and the way it happened shows how writing in the classroom had little to do with my becoming aware of myself as a writer. All of us sixth graders were required to write essays for submission to the essay contest. I did not mind the assignment even though we had not been prepared to write the essay through prewriting strategies or an emphasis on process. We were simply told to submit essays about the topic of on a given date. Writing was a skill we were supposed to know how to do, not a strategy to employ for making meaning. I do not remember what I wrote, but I do remember writing my essay at home and feeling proud enough of it to seek out my mother, an elementary teacher, as my first reader. She frowned when she read my written work. I was confused when she asked, Where did this come from? Why are you writing like this? I thought I had written a good essay; I did not understand that looking up fire prevention in Compton's Encyclopedia and slightly rewording information was unintentional plagiarism. In school I had used this approach in writing reports and had always done well. My mother reminded me that I had plenty to write about on the subject of and that I did not need an encyclopedia to do it. the stories you've heard about your Daddy's house burning down when he was twelve-years-old and how all the family pictures were lost? Remember when we moved from the house on Center Street to our home on Park Avenue and Daddy made sure every room had a alarm? She reminded me of the stories I already knew. I do not recall all these years later what I wrote for my final draft; I do remember that I took my mother's advice and wrote about family stories of which I was familiar. I won $15 for my essay and my picture was in the local newspaper. Unfortunately, the lesson to write from my own experience and self-based knowledge was not reinforced by my teachers at school. The essay remains in memory because it was unique. I was excited writing about something that I was knowledgeable about; but because there were no other classroom occasions to engage in actual authoring, my excitement waned, and the power of this writing lesson was lost. My story as a writer in school is of initial affirmation that was nullified by neglect. Although I was successful in doing school, no other writing memories stand out. Not until the process of working on my Master's degree, several years after becoming a high school English teacher, did I discover that I had never been in touch with my writing voice. …