Teaching Someone to Write

Recently I was asked if I would be interested in tutoring a student who is having difficulty writing college essays.  Since I have not yet met the student, I am not breaching any confidentiality by writing this piece.  My mind immediately began working on the possible reasons for a student to have difficulty writing essays.

First, there might be difficulty with basic mechanics.  Students do actually graduate from high school still unable to construct a complete sentence and with no concept of varying sentence structure to make their writing more interesting.  Through the miracle of spell and grammar check, some of these problems can be found and corrected, but these checks are not perfect.  Some understanding of the basics is still required.  Having recently encountered multiple English teachers who do not know how to identify a direct object, it does not surprise me that the students they produce have difficulty.

Second, a well-written essay should have some structure and logic.  When I home-schooled my son, I would say, “Nail your argument to the wall!”  In other words, prove your premise with enough supporting statements that the reader can logically follow along with your thinking.  I have sometimes said that if I ever taught any subject in a classroom again, I would be tempted to begin with a lesson or two on logic which seems to be sorely lacking in our society.

There is, however, another possibility.  The student may need to “psyche out” the teacher in order to receive a decent grade.  I took a creative writing course while in college and spent the first half of the course totally frustrated at my inability to get an A.  Eventually, I started thinking about the teacher’s personality and the way in which she presented material.  She wasn’t into hard edged logic.  She was a soggy sentimentalist.  I decided for my next assignment I would write syrupy drivel, although it nearly gagged me to do so.  When the paper came back, there was my A, along with the comment, “What happened?  You have finally become a writer!”  I groaned inwardly, “Oh, no!  Is this what I have to do to get a good grade?”

So, at this point, I don’t even know if I will be tutoring this particular student, but maybe this analysis will be helpful to someone.

Suicidal Thoughts

The news this week is full of the fact that Robin Williams committed suicide.  Discussion centers on how someone who brought so much joy and made so many smile could be in such despair himself, that he would take his own life.  Anyone with suicidal thoughts is urged to reach out for help.

I have had suicidal thoughts during two eras of my life.  On both occasions, I decided that if I could prevent myself from trying to figure out how I would do it, then I wouldn’t do it.  I consciously rejected making a plan.

As a teenager, I struggled with despair that was more intellectual than emotional.  My increasing ability to understand the world and its potential for evil and tendency toward futility caused me to wonder why anyone bothered to put up with life.  It was my personal belief in a God who could and did give meaning to existence that caused me to reject the notion of suicide.  I could see that life could be without purpose and significance, but that it didn’t have to be.  I exercised faith that God had a plan for me, and that He would guide me into a life which conformed to His greater plan.  I believed that if I daily prayed and sought for His will, He would make my life fit into the big picture which He could see even though I could not.

Decades passed with no thoughts about ending my life.  But in 2000-2001, I had an experience which rocked me to the core.  People who I had totally trusted and believed to have my best interests at heart chose to believe a gossip version of some of my words and actions.  This was especially devastating, because it happened in a church setting…..a place I had attended for over 30 years.  This time the belief that my life had purpose and meaning didn’t work, because the whole point of the accusations was that, in the view of my “friends,” I had not been fitting into God’s plan…I had been “destructive” and hurtful.  Incidents going back decades were dredged up in altered form.  I didn’t recognize my own life.  I certainly didn’t like the person they were describing.  They gave me no way of making any of my supposed “misdeeds” right.  They would not tell me who my accusers were.  None of this was in keeping with biblical principles or the policy of our denomination.   Further details of all of this aren’t important.  The crucial point is that I found suicidal thoughts floating through my mind during sleepless nights and days of turmoil. 

In a way, my faith played into such thoughts this time.  I trusted God.  He knew my heart.  He knew the intentions with which I had lived my life.  I was not afraid to face Him.  It was everyone else I really didn’t want to be around anymore.  My friends were inflicting pain.  I was sure God was merciful and would welcome me home.

But…..

I could not hurt my husband and my son by leaving them.  They were both never-endingly loving and supportive through those horrible days.  Suicide would have been cruel to them.  Neither of them ever gave any indication of believing the accusations against me.  They lived with me and knew my heart.  As even some family members turned on me, I came to feel they were the only two men in the world worthy of my trust.

Years have passed and as it turned out, God did have a plan.  After months of agony, I came out of the dark valley.  My husband and I found a new church.  I found a challenging job.  I made new friends.  The passage of time gave perspective to some of my old friends.  The hand of God was underneath me all along, and I was bound to life with the steel cable of love from my husband and son.

I grieve for those who have no faith in a loving God. 

I grieve for those who do not have family ties.

I grieve for those so blinded by despair that they forget God’s plan and the love of their family.   

I grieve for the family whose loved one temporarily forgets their love and carries out the irretrievable act leaving them to feel the pain of unnecessary loss.

It is interesting to ponder that at this exact moment in time some in the world struggle to survive, while others look for a way to die.

Fired!

I would not be writing this particular blog, if I was worried about an employer seeing it.  But, I am an old lady who is retired and only working part-time for the fun of it, sooooooo…..

In the late 60s, I was in my senior year in college and paying my own way by working about 16 hours a week as a registered nurse at a local medical clinic.  It was a unique practice with a surgeon, internist, and obstetrician/gynecologist all seeing general medical patients and referring to each other as needed.  I worked two evenings per week and on Saturday ….almost always with one other nurse.  We might have one or two doctors to keep up with during a given time period.  We did all sorts of lab work right there, took X-rays and EKGs, helped put on casts and had many other nursing duties.

As the academic year was drawing to a close, and I was soon to graduate with a Bachelor’s degree, I resigned from this position.  I also had a wedding to plan, so my life was pretty full at that point.  However, I received a call from the person who hired the clinic nurses and coordinated their hours.  Although I had given plenty of notice, they had not been able to replace me in time.  She pleaded with me to work just one more Saturday, and I agreed.

The other nurse that Saturday had graduated one year after me from the same nursing school that I had, and we knew each other pretty well at that point.  We prepared for the day, but Dr. N who was the surgeon in the group and the only physician assigned that day, had not yet arrived, so we went into the employee lounge at the back of the clinic.  A window in that room gave us a view of the parking lot, and we saw Dr. N, who had a reputation for having a very short fuse, emerge from his car red-faced and scowling.  One of us commented that it wasn’t looking like it would be an easy day with him.

I had never had an incident with him before and felt I had always behaved professionally when working with him.  This included the time he came out of a patient’s room looking a bit dazed and said, “I think I am in atrial fibrillation.”  He turned to go to the next patient, but I went into I-am-the-nurse-and-I-am-in-charge mode.  I sat him down, checked his pulse and blood pressure, and then called the other doctor who was there that day.  I was relieved that it happened to be the internist.  The internist gave him medication and called Dr. N’s wife to take him home and make him rest.  Other than that, I had never challenged him, and that challenge had seemed the right thing to do.

On this Saturday, Dr. N strode in and went into the first patient’s room.  We waited in the nurses’ station for him to come out with instructions, but that is not what happened.  The clinic had just been renovated, including installation of a new intercom system.  The last time either Alice or I had worked, it had not been operational.  Neither of us knew that it was now ready for use.  Neither of us had been given any instructions regarding its use. His voice hollering “Nurse” boomed out of the box, which was loaded with buttons and switches, and we were clueless as to how to work the thing.  He was clearly upset and there was no time to be fiddling around, so we raced down the hall to the room he was in.

By this time, Dr. N was in the hall in a rage, because we had not answered him on the intercom.  After he had thoroughly ripped into us regarding our incompetence, and Alice looked like a deer caught in the headlights, I calmly (or at least, I remember it as calmly) said, “Dr. N, I don’t think you should be treating us this way.  Neither Alice nor I have been instructed how to use the new intercom, and we didn’t even know it was ready to be used.”

“You are nothing but a smart-mouth,” he roared.  “Get out of here!  You’re fired!”

I suppose it totally supported his contention that I was a smart mouth, but I returned, “Actually, I don’t think you can fire me.  I quit a week ago.  I only came in to be helpful today, since I was told you were short-staffed.”

I then turned and walked away, went to the nurses’ station and collected my purse, said ‘good-bye’ to the receptionist, and started out the employee exit at the back of the building.  On my way out, Dr. N was in the mechanical room fooling around with something.  I’m pretty sure this was a pretext for accidentally seeing me as I left.  He apologized and asked me to stay….which I did.  I choked back tears most of the day, but I did my best not to let him or any patients see it.

That was the only time in my life I was fired.  It is also the only time I was rehired in less than 10 minutes.  Roller-coaster ride!