What I Learned in School Today

Today was tough. And refreshing. I had to teach my college freshmen a hard lesson. I'm quite the softie, as most of you can hopefully attest. However, my 75 freshmen students made me read over 200 pages of pure trash over the weekend. I was offended by their lack of proofreading, their absence of any original thoughts or genuine feelings, their dogmatic assertions that contained less than a lick of concrete evidence or proof to back up their Mormon clichés and catch phrases. 25 of the essays looked exactly the same. I wrote down on a 5X8 card lists of meaningless words that showed up on almost all the essays without any example or qualification accompanying them: good, bad, future, past, people, things, society, media, tools, gifts, habits, choices, goals, callings, responsibilities, passing time, modern day, blessings, trials.

I warned them I was harsh in my comments, but lenient in my grades. A B- this time would be a straight flunk next time. I told them how disappointed I was that their essays about being "leaders of this generation," about how "blessed" and "privileged" they were to be attending "God's school in the latter days," about how the "fulness of the everlasting Gospel" sets them apart from "the evil world"--these essays--were fluff. Garbage. Empty, aimless, lazy words.

They had spoken of themselves against "the world." They had spoken only to each other in smug, ethnocentric confidence. So the new rule is that their audience in my class must include people outside of our own faith. They can still share spiritual experiences, mission stories, faith-promoting anecdotes--but they must speak to the world. This shocked them. I talked about Chaim Potok and how I'm not Jewish but I spiritually connect with him and the traditions and beliefs he includes in his literature. One student yelled out Gandhi. I supported that. I would have thrown candy at her if I had had any.

I told them about the teenage girls I taught at the boarding school I came from--how many of them had been through abortions, about how they still get high when they go home for Christmas, and have sex, because they are addicted. I told how half of them had attempted suicide before and that their arms are raked with long red lines from where they cut and don't know how to stop wanting to cut. I accused my students of labeling girls like this as ignorant, evil, carnal, incapable of the spiritual epiphanies my freshmen students purportedly have just by breathing the air on this campus. Then I told them about how some of these 14, 15-year-old girls with scars on their wrists and straight Fs on their report cards had handed in essays to me that were more profound, more honest, more sincere, with stronger spiritual connections and energy than 75% of the essays I had received from these self-proclaimed chosen generation leaders.

Boy, you should have listened to me. I've never spoken so boldly to a college classroom before, not that I can remember, anyway. They were listening so hard. I loved them for that. I love them for their humility. We read three excellent examples of good essays I had received (there were only 10 A's out of the 75 students), and we looked at one of my student's rough draft and final draft and the impressive rethinking, reorganizing, and reviewing process he went through.

I just got an email from a girl whose paper I had commented harshly on. She had written in response to an Aldous Huxley article about Hitler and "herd poisoning." She discussed the Holocaust in a naive, shallow way--not because she is naive or shallow, just that it was the typical lazy freshman comp. essay. Her email is lengthy and sincere. It begins: "I have read your notes on my Essay many times over and yes you were harsh, in fact I have never had someone tell me that I had a lack of research, sight and empathy. It really did hurt, and yes I did cry, but I can never tell you how much your words, in class and on my paper, have changed what I think about writing and thinking in general." She goes on to talk about her proposed revisions, which involves a topic change. Her excitement to write a paper about something personal and important to her is evident in the length and energy of the remains of the email. It was not kissing up. It was not guilt-induced.

Instead of feeling like a conqueror, I feel weaker than ever. I asked this girl to stare herself down, look at her own crap, and admit her weaknesses. And she did it! And I feel like a selfish fool for sidestepping my own crap as often as I do. I know that by holding my students to these expectations, I am raising my own standard as an instructor and a writer. I feel like in today's victory, I am surrounded by a hundred before unseen idiotic and puny traits of myself. I guess this where I'm supposed to go out to a rock in the woods and pray. And yet, all the animal inside of me wants is a delicious sandwich from the Hogi Yogi drive-thru and to watch a crappy movie. Yeeeeeeeeargh...........and it's only Monday!

I better bring cookies to my classes on Wednesday. Cookies and love.