I had an idea that they would work. They did, for the most part. The writing prompts and strategies I used with 11th and 12th graders in high school had much to offer older adults.
That's what prompted me to take a leap of faith and offer a writing class for older folks. There was the Tai-Chi group too. For the past year, I've been taking Tai-Chi classes through my local gym and community center. It was there I met an ice group of older folks who have lived a bit of life. They have stories to tell. Sometimes, they even want to tell them, but just need a little motivation. I asked around, and when it appeared that there was a small core of folks that expressed interest in a class that would offer some writing opportunities, I decided to proceed.
I envisioned this little writing workshop as more of a volunteer effort. But, when I asked at my local community center I learned that everything offered there went through Portland Parks and Recreation. Over the following couple of months I was interviewed, went through appropriate OSHA training sessions (all online) and my little class called "Writing Your Memories" became a reality. I did not choose the name or write the course description, but that didn't matter. I was given free rein to do what I wanted. And so I did.
The sessions last 5 weeks. I've completed 3 now, and am set to do two more this Fall.
I hope my age 60+ seniors have learned a few things and have improved their writing voices; I certainly have. What fascinates me now is that they never really learned writing as a process. All the ideas I learned through the Bay Area, Oregon, and National Writing Project are relatively "new" compared to the classrooms older folks endured 60 years ago. Hell, in my high school, a pretty good one, we rarely read whole books in English classes.
One particular strategy proved tailor made for a class like "Writing Your Memories." That involved a series of prompts based on the popular Sandra Cisneros book, The House On Mango Street. This series of vignettes features a Table of Contents with provocative titles like The Bums in the Attic, Red Clowns, My Cousin Louie and my other cousin. From there, we made Tables of Contents for our own childhood. These then yielded personal stories turned into vignettes of our own.
I wrote along with my little group of students. This enabled me to model some things and also to share in giving and getting feedback. We all sat at a table. Same height. Occasionally when I'd reference a particular author or suggestion, most would take notes. One stroke of genius I had, if I do say so myself, was not to call anything an assignment.
"These are opportunities, writing opportunities," I said. Nobody has to do anything. That helped too.
There was one person in the class who only wanted to write about her past relationships. And there were many. OK by me, though it is limiting But, if that's the life you want to save for posterity, so be it.
Others described their first jobs or memories of childhood play time. Sam, at 89, and recently diagnosed with dementia, wrote about a time his uncle took him to the circus. This would be Chicago around the 1930s. When he was offered a ride on an elephant, he found himself sitting behind 3 other kids. He complained to his uncle. The uncle persuaded the elephant's handler to turn the elephant around and back up. "There," he said, "now you're in front.
Without getting mawkish, I do believe that, in the end, all we really have is our memories.
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