Blogging Take Two
This is not the first time I’ve written the first line of a blog post. It’s not even the second or third.
On my last foray into the world of blogging, I stayed up half the night polishing a post which became an essay, only to delete it less than 12 hours later when thoughtful and generous comments from a couple of readers suggested that SOMEONE ELSE HAS SEEN THIS AND OMG.
Because even though I’m an English teacher – and I’ll happily write you an impersonal academic essay any day of the week – authentic writing like this, not hiding behind the formalities and conventions, is something I find utterly excruciating and, if I’m honest, mostly unnecessary. Who needs to read my half-formed, ill-informed ramblings?
Well, actually, I do.
Every lesson, I’m asking students to take risks, to make mistakes, to be vulnerable. Whether it’s in their own portfolios, or a tentative contribution to class discussion, I’m asking them to value the messiness of learning, to take a chance even when they know themselves to be far from proficient. And all the while, I stay comfortably cocooned in my own expertise, not wanting to put my hand up unless I’ve read it all, know it all, and have all the answers.
But this *deep breath* will never happen, will it? I will never, ever reach that point, because it doesn’t exist; if anything, it only seems further and further away.
In the early days of learning French when we lived in Switzerland, I didn’t want to utter a word until I had mastered it entirely. I couldn’t stand to hear my estuary accent mangling it all up, ugly globs of franglais interrupting the musical, casual fluidity of conversation. I cringed at colleagues who gave it a stab, plundering ahead making horrible errors, because who cares? Well, I did. I thought I was a sponge, soaking it all up, listening to everyone around me, hoping that I’d ‘pick it up.’ But you don’t learn to play an instrument by watching from the audience.
What I’ve come to realise is that I’ve been treating this whole blogging enterprise like it’s a high-performing orchestra; where I need to be polished, proficient, and have some unique contribution to make. But it’s not, is it? It’s a jam session in the garage. Or not even: it’s practising scales, it’s a creaky bit of sight-reading; hell, sometimes it’s drunk karaoke (stay-tuned, reader).
So, I’m giving it another shot. And this blog will be a record not just of my professional learning, but also my relationship with blogging, in all its up and downs.
*Cue anxious sweats in 3,2, 1……*
Gemma, I was alerted to your fearless foray (back) into blogging by your friend and mine @FriedEnglish101…she’s trying to persuade me to do the same, and I prevaricate in much the same way as you. So your post has added fueled my fire (as Tricia no doubt predicted) and helped push me one step closer to the one you have so bravely taken (again). I love your writing, you have a strong voice and it should be shared.
I hope this helps you in your quest to empathise with your students.
I look forward to reading about karaoke in the future (I am a fabulous singer, in my shower, alone at home, and don’t think even drunk I would ever be brave enough to sing karaoke).
Kudos Gemma, your well ahead of my curve!
Gemma,
One of my favorite passages I’ve come across this year thus far: “It’s a jam session in the garage. Or not even: it’s practising scales, it’s creaky bit of sight-reading; hell, sometimes it’s drunk karaoke (stay-tuned, reader).” Love that you’ll be making your thinking accessible.
I feel like your intentions with this first post tick off many of the items from Seth Godin’s recent musings on the things that are our job to get done, regardless of the fact that they have nothing to do with your job description: http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2018/04/missing-from-your-job-description.html
Can’t wait to see your second post!
Tricia
Being a REAL risk taker here as I reply to your post in the back seat of the car with 1 little boy on my lap and another two sitting beside me bashing out Uptown Funky Whatever with loud enthusiasm. You see Gemma I am 100% feeling your vibe. I wrote a few posts and have stalled. Mortified by how I ‘sound’ on paper and that people I like/respect are reading my rambling rubbish. Already I’m thinking that I could never write anything as real and vibrant as your post above but I hereby vow to try. Because I do know the value of the process. So how do you feel, three replies in one day? You’re out there. On display. Doing it. I’m already looking forward to the next post.
Embrace the crazy.
Embrace the mistakes.
Embrace the learning.
Trust me: you will be surrounded by your tribe, and they will be there to support you every messed-up step of the way.
You got this.
I like your writing, Gemma! ““my estuary accent,” indeed!
Some people make it so easy! 🙂 …
The great thing is that they are a very supportive group and will guide you (and me please) in the right direction, if there is one!
I am still finding the process challenging, but optimistic that it will get easier in time.