Week 7: The Composition Classroom as an Act of Freedom and Presence

Foreword: I've been thinking on this topic since one of the first courses I took in graduate school. I was inspired and encouraged (read: en-couraged, as in bravery) to write this by Brandy's blog post about her response to the culture of fear that has permeated our classrooms and homes in the wake of the many recent school shootings. Here's a link to that blog post. Also, I apologize for the quality of the images in this post. It was the best I could do this late at night.

The Composition Classroom as an Act of Freedom and Presence

If you have a sharp eye for reading, as I'm sure my fellow word nerds do, then you may have noticed that, in the title, I have attempted to turned the composition classroom, a noun, into an action. The word "freedom" is probably familiar to certain camps of compositionists, but "presence" (used interchangeably with "mindfulness" in this post) is probably an unfamiliar practice in composition studies. Yet, it is one that, in the midst of our fast-paced and escapist culture, I argue is desperately needed in the composition classroom.

Mindfulness is a deceptively deep practice that comes from the Zen tradition. Simply put, it is the practice of fully inhabiting the experience of the present moment. Being present means not being pushed or pulled by our fears, stresses, or the millions of obligations we seem to face every day. When practicing mindfulness, one should remain aware of one's physical state, as well as one's mental and emotional state. This kind of awareness can be built up by focusing on doing one thing at a time, paying close attention to detail and not getting in any hurry. Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh describes mindfulness as applied to the seemingly trivial act of washing the dishes:

"While washing the dishes one should only be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes. At first glance, that might seem a little silly: why put so much stress on a simple thing? But that's precisely the point. The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is a following my breath, conscious of my presence, and conscious of my thoughts and actions. There's no way I can be tossed around mindlessly like a bottle slapped here and there on the waves." (Hanh, Peace is Every Step 4-5)

So, what does this have to do with the composition classroom?

Students often come into our classrooms overworked, weary, or confused; and, if we habitually teach on autopilot, we may not be able to tell the difference between overworked or overtired students and those that are simply disengaged. By constantly remaining aware of our actions as educators, we may be able to better connect with the needs of our students. 

Students will likely come into our classrooms not knowing how to deeply reflect either on themselves or their actions. Drawing or freewriting can serve as powerful focusing activities if done in the spirit of mindfulness. An in-class activity that I have done in the past (as a student) asked us to slowly and carefully fill up a page of cardstock with the word "fear." We were given about ten minutes; and, during that time, we were also asked to reflect on our deepest fears about starting graduate school (we were first-semester grad students at the time). This assignment could easily be tweaked to have students explore their fears or frustrations with writing. Here's an image of mine after it was all finished:

When we were about halfway through filling up the page, we were asked to flip the paper over and freewrite about that fear with no fear of judgment or that writing to ever be read by anyone besides ourselves. After about five minutes, we were asked to flip the page back over and spend another few minutes filling the page up with the word "fear." However, this time we were asked to contemplate on seeing that fear as a part of ourselves and to meditate on ways that we might bring healing or positive change to those parts of ourselves. Once again, we were asked to flip the page back over and freewrite. Here is the other side of mine, as an example of what you might expect (sorry if the quality is too poor to read):

This kind of meditation, for personal insight, has been called the backward step by some Zen writers. It is a moment in which we slow down in life, sit, and listen for whatever is present, both internally and externally. However, these Zen writers have also acknowledged that life seems to be a rhythm of forward and backward steps, alternating between periods of action and periods of reflection.

These are supposed to be stick figures holding hands to symbolize a united world.

By teaching students to reflect on themselves and their own actions, we are also teaching them how to reflect on others in the same manner. In the vocabulary of Zen, when we teach our students to be present with themselves, we are also teaching them to be present with others. By examining their own reactions, whether they be towards fear, social issues, or whatever, we are also teaching our students how to anticipate the reactions of their audience. Perhaps it may also help students to realize that their audience is made up of real people. Either way, this kind of presence is deeply needed in composition classrooms today by both teachers and students.