Faring+Well+at+the+College+Fair+10-17-08

October 17, 2008  =Faring Well at the College Fair =

Sometimes I agree to things that I later regret. For instance, back in early September when the semester was young and I was not yet too sleep deprived, I received an email from a guidance counselor at a local high school inviting me to attend a college and career fair at her school. Well, since I am congenitally incapable of saying no to anything, I said, “Sure, when do you want me there?” Eight AM seemed like a perfectly reasonable time. After all, I got to work at seven AM or earlier for years as a high school teacher. What was eight o’clock?! The trouble began the night before, when I had to force myself to go to bed a little earlier than I typically do now. Of course I couldn’t fall asleep, so I watched the Red Sox make an amazing comeback from being down seven runs, with the sound off on the TV in our bedroom. The trouble continued in the morning when my alarm went off at six AM and my body said, “The hell with that!” My son’s five-year-old body responded similarly when I woke him an hour earlier than he usually wakes on his own, except that he was more vocal in his protests than I had been. I got there in plenty of time to drink a third cup of (bad) coffee in the main office and set up my materials. But I had my doubts. It was a small, small school. The auditorium was very 1950’s, and the tables for set-up were small and narrow. Some college reps dozed behind their advertising panels. The young men from the Navy and Marines were already doing sets of push-ups in preparation for the push-up contests they would later stage for the students—almost as big a hit as the free Frisbees distributed by the cable company reps and the live sea creatures brought by a woman from some oceanography program. The couple from the cosmetology school looked decidedly un-cosmetic slumped in their chairs across from me. I learned later that many of these folks make the rounds all fall long. They all seemed to know one another. It struck me as being a little like a traveling carnival. My table had one steel chair to share with my table-mate, if that provides any more clarification on the situation. But I was fortunate to have a nice table mate, a young woman from a small liberal arts college in Massachusetts. She had driven all morning to get there, and had to drive to Bradley afterwards to make a flight to Chicago to do more of the same dog-and-pony stuff for Midwestern high school juniors. She didn’t seem excited by the prospect, but she put on a good face.  Because I wasn’t quite sure what a bunch of high school juniors would see of interest in the [|Writing Project], I brought a lot of give-aways from the other writing programs in the English Department, as well. I brought copies of //[|Connecticut Student Writers]// and the chapbook from the 2007 Summer Institute, //Essay Connections// from the [|Freshman English Program], //[|The Long River Review]// from the Creative Writing Program, and lots of pens, pads, posters, and assorted other handouts. My table-mate was immediately excited. Turns out she minored in creative writing at Roger Williams. During down time (which there was quite a lot of) she read poems by elementary students in //CSW// and essays by undergrads in //LRR//. She loved them. Gradually I started to draw some interest. It began with the head of the English department. Turns out she had gone through the first [|Summer Institute] in 1982! She asked a million wonderful questions, and then brought over a new teacher from her department. Honestly, I would have mistaken her for a student, but she was very excited to learn about the project, and asked to be added to the listserv and have info on the Summer Institute sent to her. Then she brought over a couple of her students who planned to major in English or English Education, and wanted to be high school English teachers. They had all the excitement and ambition of their youth, and asked wonderful questions. They in turn brought over more young women interested in the field (always nice young women, like my Advanced Composition classes every spring semester—just a roomful of bright and responsible young women). Then the Latin teacher came by asking for information on the Summer Institute. Seems she’s interested in some new professional development, and wants to do more writing in her Latin classes. Lastly, the department chair brought over her student teacher, who happens to be running a writing center at the high school all by herself, sustaining it through sheer energy and enthusiasm, with no money, no staff, and inadequate space. Sound familiar? She was tremendously excited to learn that I was collaborating with the [|University Writing Center] to fund and train high school writing centers. And so I was once again giving out my business card and taking down an email. In the end, I left with none of the books or supplies I had come with. What few calendars and posters remained were taken by the guidance counselors. A half dozen high school girls took journals and other info. Four classroom teachers gave me their emails and asked to be added to the listserv and mailing list, to have info on the summer institute sent to them, or to be considered for inclusion in the Writing Project-Writing Center collaboration. I ended up staying a half hour beyond the eleven AM end time answering questions. I drove off into the autumn afternoon with empty hands and a sense that maybe I should place more trust in my initial judgments. I sure hope I see some of these women and girls in a desk across the room from me in the near future.

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