I have mixed feelings about the moments when my Ph.D. in English and experience teaching writing serve to help my children with their school work. When my son was in high school, I tried to avoid helping him with essays, believing, first, that his teachers should be giving him the tools (they weren't), and second, not wanting to just step in and tell him what to do, since I was so invested in teaching and practicing writing. The one or two times that I did step in, however, made a significant difference in his writing, including his success with college writing.
After moving online with disastrous consequences--meaning that their education was virtually nonexistent--in Spring 2020, as COVID numbers began to rise, my daughters' education took a turn I never anticipated. A friend recommended an online school with a basis in reality--it was based in the school district where she lived--that had a good reputation and was available to students across the state. We signed up, and we are in the second year of online education. (Note that I did not say "homeschooling." "Homeschooling" is not the same as online education, and though the learning takes place in the physical space of my home, it is not what I might call "home-based." This distinction feels important to me as so many parents suddenly considered themselves involuntary "homeschoolers" in 2020, completely misrepresenting the work and commitment that goes into homeschooling, as well as the freedom and joy that, for some families, result from it.) Though I am not taking the bulk of the responsibility for their education, I am much more involved in their English assignments, which, to my lasting sorrow, frustrate, vex, and otherwise slow them down. We have literally had more tears over English--my discipline!!--than any other subject. This lead, briefly, to my serious consideration of teaching certification as an option. I applied and was accepted to a post-baccalaureate program that I could even have received partial funding for because of my current employment, but for complex reasons that I'm not yet willing to broach in print, I declined admission. One major factor, however, was the time commitment of full-time teaching (I would have liked online, but most of the good jobs in schools are only available once you have "paid your dues"). I realized that I would not "be there" for my family. Or, indeed, for myself.
So often these days I find myself called on for writing assistance--or to try to alleviate the frustration caused by the pointlessness of the writing assignments, because both daughters can easily complete the assignments (when not bogged down mentally by simply not wanting to do the thing).
I find that something that's missing almost universally from essay writing assignments is a sense of PURPOSE. The purpose is too often "to get grade" or "to complete assignment." Asking a student who does not easily tolerate busy work, particularly when there is significant effort required, to write an essay "explaining why leaving a legacy is a good thing" is bound to lead to frustration. Add to this that the prompt, which has a clear argumentative or persuasive bent, explicitly states that this essay is EXPOSITORY, and you have a recipe for disaster. (HINT: Just because you're not letting them choose the side does NOT mean that it's not an argumentative prompt.) And then, to really bring it close to the 8th grader, you might mention, as the chief example of "leaving a legacy," PRESIDENTS. Surely every 8th grader can not only relate to the example of presidents, they must find presidents to be engaging and relevant. Surely! No? Hmmm. I guess, being in Texas, I'm a little glad that the assignment didn't focus on passing down land, money, property, or a business to the next generation, because I feel that prompts should strive not be economically privileged, but the legacy of presidents is not much better. So we took some time to get to the root of the problem--that you can know generally what "legacy" means without really being able to think of an example that is concrete and meaningful to you. After talking about the ways in which "legacy" might be understood ("make millions of people happy" à la Kermit the Frog, maybe? or how about that library where someone we know works? or all of those rich people who fund the Press or everyone who wants to publish a memoir?), and considering what was on the television (Pixar's Coco, which is in some ways all about legacy), and Lockhart in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, which she recently decided to read for the first time (along with the rest of the series) for leisure, I offered this as a purpose:
Because some people might think that "legacy" is limited to presidents or those who have influenced history, but it's more than that...
Not for nothing did I study rhetoric--and try to hammer rhetorical situation into my students. It's important to have a REASON for writing.
I emerge with two thoughts about this. First, it is gratifying to know that I have the skills and the knowledge and the tools to help my daughter with writing--and specifically, with being able to take a ludicrous prompt and make it her own (a slow process, but we're getting there). It reminds me that I am, in fact, a good writing teacher--something that it's good for me to remember, since I often feel like I have lost everything I once knew from lack of practice, or that maybe I was never very good, and perhaps even a failure. I often feel like I would be ill-equipped to step back into the classroom, even though I know that the failures are not the whole story. But to remember my strengths also emphasizes the fact that I am not teaching, and that this is a contribution that I could make, that I am unable to make. And that is rather sad. More often these days, I focus on the good--the two students whom I love, and whom I am able to influence. But it is bittersweet.
Second, I wonder often about my own purpose. I do not write as I once did--for most of my life, if I'm honest. I learned to read, and I read incessantly. I learned to write, and as soon as I had things I wanted to express, I wrote incessantly. But now, I don't. Blogging relies both on purpose and audience, and audience is tricky at best. Publishing relies on the same. Wanting to introduce an audience to important ideas about life that they have overlooked in a popular author's work is something I used to feel very strongly about. But who are these people? And what are they really interested in? And what is the point of what I have to say, anyway?
What I'm supposed to be writing is a book about marriage. And while it is an important topic, I'm not really feeling my purpose right now. But I wrote some new words yesterday, on the topic of losing the one that you love, and not wanting that person to leave. There is a reference to Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," though I am writing about Tolkien. That particular aspect of the topic feels poignant right now, when so many people have lost loved ones, and when I'm always painfully afraid to lose someone I love. But more broadly, I wonder--why should I write about marriage? and in this way? Purpose, after all, is important.
