Monday, November 5, 2012
by Sara Goas
I’ve always said that writing is scary. Hey, I built an entire blog on the concept.
Over a year’s worth of posts, and it all came down to this: Creating is tough. There’s such an intense sense of responsibility that comes with bringing something to life, with creating something from nothing, and putting it out for the world to see. Sure, it’s easy to have nothing and even fairly painless to have something–but going from one to the other, well, that’s the challenge.
So of course, writing is scary. Or at least, I thought it was. But that was before I tried my hand at creating a baby.
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Wednesday, July 11, 2012
by Sara Goas
Growing up, my parents, relatives, and teachers gave me a lot of encouragement when it came to writing. And when those positive and supportive people weren’t around, I entertained myself by reading flowery inspirational books about how all of us have the potential for brilliance.
Nowadays, I try to pay some of that inspiration back by encouraging people to write.
But every once in a while, a thought creeps into the darkest region of my mind: Are certain folks just not cut out to be professional writers?
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Wednesday, July 4, 2012
by Sara Goas
Today, I’m angry.
I’m not going to say why, because any explanation I could give would be far too tedious and unnecessary. But rest assured, I’m angry. Blindingly, burningly so.
I don’t like to face down a deadline when I’m angry, upset, or stressed about some real life problem. I much prefer to write while calm and collected, with gobs of of empty hours at my disposal.
But that’s the thing about deadlines. They care not a whit about one’s real life circumstances.
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Wednesday, June 20, 2012
by Sara Goas
Today was the last official schoolday in my district. I woke up this morning wanting to let my kids out early and start summer vacation a few hours early, but I instead spent the time sharing with them the results of their final exam essays.
I certainly did not feel like explaining to one particularly studious young man why he had received an 90% on his essay, versus the 95% or perhaps 100% he’d apparently hoped for–but school wasn’t over yet. And there would no longer be any putting things off until tomorrow.
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Wednesday, June 13, 2012
by Sara Goas
Some of us work very well under pressure. I never thought I fit into that category, but I’m beginning to feel differently now.
I’m not the sporty type. My idea of an outdoor activity is having a picnic outside, and I’d much prefer to have that picnic without someone (Ted) pestering me to play horseshoes or bocce ball. (The last time we had an outdoor barbeque, my husband had to literally pull me from my chair to get me to join in a game.) A few years ago, when Ted and I spent our vacation at an all-inclusive Jamaican resort, I had hoped to spend our time eating, drinking, and laying around on the beach. But I should have known that my loving spouse had other ideas.
Ted wanted to go kayaking, and this was one activity I actually welcomed–mostly because it seemed a great deal more doable than deep sea diving or hang gliding. The instructor allowed us to sign out a kayak, but warned us not to stray too far from the shore because the waters were a bit choppy. No problem, we said, as all we wanted to do was paddle around the beach for a while. If I remember correctly, Ted let me have the front of the kayak; I think he assumed that the person in back would have the slightly more arduous job.
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Wednesday, June 6, 2012
by Sara Goas
I’ve been thinking a lot about fear lately. As often as I’ve already written on the importance of
facing our fears, I’m starting to wonder if I’m particularly good at it myself.
Last week, a select group of seniors at our school competed for the chance to deliver original speeches during graduation, and I was asked to sit in as one of the judges. I sat and watched these seven or eight honors students shakily read through speeches they had written themselves, each hoping for the chance to share his or her speech with an even larger, more intimidating audience. I couldn’t help but feel awed by their bravery. Could I have done the same thing at their age? Not likely. Hell, I doubt I could do the same thing now.
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Wednesday, May 30, 2012
by Sara Goas
Nobody likes to revise written work. No, not even we English teachers enjoy that process, even though we regularly go out of our way to teach the art of revision.
“The kids should learn how to do it,” we think to ourselves, year after year.”We don’t have to, of course, because we know better. But let the kids suffer through it–it’ll make them stronger!”
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Wednesday, May 23, 2012
by Sara Goas
Nobody likes to revise written work. No, not even we English teachers enjoy that process, even though we regularly go out of our way to teach the art of revision.
“The kids should learn how to do it,” we think to ourselves, year after year. “We don’t have to, of course, because we know better. But let the kids suffer through it–it’ll make them stronger!”
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Wednesday, May 16, 2012
by Sara Goas
Recently, I boldly declared “mediocre writing” to be better than no writing.
One reader commented, “While I cringe at the idea of mediocre writing being considered better than no writing, I do agree with you that in an educational environment such practice is necessary.”
I don’t blame him for cringing at that; the truth is, I cringed too, as I wrote it. And I knew I’d have to go back at some point and dedicate a new post to that very idea.
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Wednesday, May 9, 2012
by Sara Goas
So many (or actually, all) of my articles are aimed at those who truly aspire, in some way, to write professionally–and you know who you are. This week, if you folks don’t mind, I’m putting you off to the side and concentrating on the “sometimes” writer. Again, you know who I’m talking about–that guy in your college essay class who just needed the extra credit to graduate, or every student, other than yourself, in every high school English class you’ve ever had.
In composing my blog posts for the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about my current crop of ninth grade students. A handful of them are aspiring journalists or playwrights, and the rest are there because the state, and their parents, say they need four years of English before they finish high school. While it is enjoyable (and certainly, easier) to address the students who want to write, my job as a teacher demands that I develop lessons that speak to all types of students. I’m beginning to wonder if I should throw those kids an occasional blog post, as well.
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