Health, Creativity and Free Speech
Creativity and Health
The events of two weeks ago on the campus of Virginia Tech still sicken and send shudders through us each time we hear the word, “Virginia” or “troubled college student.” The loss of those innocent students and professors who were gunned down trying to learn and teach will no doubt haunt us for the rest of our lives. But for many of us who teach in universities, particularly those who work with students in creative pursuits like creative writing as I do, there is a sense of sympathy with those in the English Department of Virginia Tech who saw a manuscript of rage and pain turn into a real life canvas of blood and terror.
If only someone would have realized . . . if only someone would have recognized the signs . . . The uproar of popular opinion has been understandably emotional as we search publicly for ways to prevent such a massacre from ever happening again. But limiting the self-expression of students is certainly the worst thing we can do.
I applaud the Virginia Tech faculty, as it appears they made a specific and compassionate effort to work with this sick-souled young man. Could they have done more? Yes. Did they have the resources? The support? The training? The time? Probably not. As college creative writing teachers, we are trained to teach writing not work as therapists or counselors. And yet, as educators and artists ourselves, we must encourage students to examine their lives and the world around them, no matter how troubling, as the subjects from which they can learn the art of self-expression and its power to enlighten and heal the human spirit. Thus, we are the first to read the raw, heart-wrenching accounts of our student’s painful emotional struggles.
I’ve heard it all in my 15 years of teaching, including the humiliating sagas of immigrants and the irrational tragedies of war, famine, and brutal acts of torture. I know many teachers have fled from teaching writing just because they can’t face another essay on anorexia or fictionalized account of some traumatic adolescent episode of abuse. I understand why. But because creative writing enabled me to pull myself out my own struggles with depression and self-destruction and the shame and illness that they produced, I feel somewhat of a spiritual calling to provide students with the support and the aesthetic training to craft their way through what they may have witnessed and suffered.
But never in my years of teaching have I seen such emotional and physical suffering as I’ve seen in the last year. From the top of my head here is a list of recent student essay topics: six suicide attempts; four episodes of sexual abuse, including incest; three depictions of domestic abuse; 1 rape story; too many essays about alcohol and drug addiction; four accounts of self-mutilation; five essays on panic or anxiety disorder; five more on anorexia; and another account of a campus shooting at a dorm. I wish I could say that these pieces of writing were fiction, but I teach what is commonly termed creative nonfiction, in other words, the personal essay. These essays didn’t come from students who’ve made it out of the so-called “inner city,” where we have apparently given up on hundreds of thousands of children who chronically suffer from psychological and physical abuse due to violence, addiction, and poverty. No, these writings came from students who by and large are white, middle to upper class, and from not only suburbia but all over middle America.
What is going on? I’m not a sociologist or psychologist, but it’s not difficult to see that these young people are under an enormous amount of stress from the sheer volume of information our society is asking them to digest into bodies they barely inhabit. For a society that prides itself on technological advancement and medical science, it’s appalling how little attention we pay to educating young people on how their bodies function and how they must care for it. Consequently, one of my main topics I ask students to explore is their relationship with their bodies. You might think, this is why I’m receiving such essays. But then, what if I hadn’t asked them to write about their bodies?
In my creative writing classes I don’t teach confession, I teach craft and composition. I teach students to develop self-confidence through confronting difficult issues with language and ideas. Every term, I ask them to read the bible of the personal narrative, James Baldwin’s Notes To A Native Son, who preaches in every paragraph that artistry and compassion triumphs over bitterness and blame.
To take away the rights of students to express themselves would not only be a violation of the most enduring symbol of America—free speech, but it would also take away the valuable skill that we want to cultivate in them: that what they say and how they say it matters to their health and to the health of our society and democracy.
The tragedy of Virginia Tech should wake us up to the realities of the serious emotional and mental health problems that our young people face in a society pushing and shoving them to consume, succeed and look beautiful at the cost of their uniquely sacred bodies. It is critical that students in all our schools have the right and access to not only heath care designed for their age but also a commitment to a curriculum on how to maintain it as well.
The events of two weeks ago on the campus of Virginia Tech still sicken and send shudders through us each time we hear the word, “Virginia” or “troubled college student.” The loss of those innocent students and professors who were gunned down trying to learn and teach will no doubt haunt us for the rest of our lives. But for many of us who teach in universities, particularly those who work with students in creative pursuits like creative writing as I do, there is a sense of sympathy with those in the English Department of Virginia Tech who saw a manuscript of rage and pain turn into a real life canvas of blood and terror.
If only someone would have realized . . . if only someone would have recognized the signs . . . The uproar of popular opinion has been understandably emotional as we search publicly for ways to prevent such a massacre from ever happening again. But limiting the self-expression of students is certainly the worst thing we can do.
I applaud the Virginia Tech faculty, as it appears they made a specific and compassionate effort to work with this sick-souled young man. Could they have done more? Yes. Did they have the resources? The support? The training? The time? Probably not. As college creative writing teachers, we are trained to teach writing not work as therapists or counselors. And yet, as educators and artists ourselves, we must encourage students to examine their lives and the world around them, no matter how troubling, as the subjects from which they can learn the art of self-expression and its power to enlighten and heal the human spirit. Thus, we are the first to read the raw, heart-wrenching accounts of our student’s painful emotional struggles.
I’ve heard it all in my 15 years of teaching, including the humiliating sagas of immigrants and the irrational tragedies of war, famine, and brutal acts of torture. I know many teachers have fled from teaching writing just because they can’t face another essay on anorexia or fictionalized account of some traumatic adolescent episode of abuse. I understand why. But because creative writing enabled me to pull myself out my own struggles with depression and self-destruction and the shame and illness that they produced, I feel somewhat of a spiritual calling to provide students with the support and the aesthetic training to craft their way through what they may have witnessed and suffered.
But never in my years of teaching have I seen such emotional and physical suffering as I’ve seen in the last year. From the top of my head here is a list of recent student essay topics: six suicide attempts; four episodes of sexual abuse, including incest; three depictions of domestic abuse; 1 rape story; too many essays about alcohol and drug addiction; four accounts of self-mutilation; five essays on panic or anxiety disorder; five more on anorexia; and another account of a campus shooting at a dorm. I wish I could say that these pieces of writing were fiction, but I teach what is commonly termed creative nonfiction, in other words, the personal essay. These essays didn’t come from students who’ve made it out of the so-called “inner city,” where we have apparently given up on hundreds of thousands of children who chronically suffer from psychological and physical abuse due to violence, addiction, and poverty. No, these writings came from students who by and large are white, middle to upper class, and from not only suburbia but all over middle America.
What is going on? I’m not a sociologist or psychologist, but it’s not difficult to see that these young people are under an enormous amount of stress from the sheer volume of information our society is asking them to digest into bodies they barely inhabit. For a society that prides itself on technological advancement and medical science, it’s appalling how little attention we pay to educating young people on how their bodies function and how they must care for it. Consequently, one of my main topics I ask students to explore is their relationship with their bodies. You might think, this is why I’m receiving such essays. But then, what if I hadn’t asked them to write about their bodies?
In my creative writing classes I don’t teach confession, I teach craft and composition. I teach students to develop self-confidence through confronting difficult issues with language and ideas. Every term, I ask them to read the bible of the personal narrative, James Baldwin’s Notes To A Native Son, who preaches in every paragraph that artistry and compassion triumphs over bitterness and blame.
To take away the rights of students to express themselves would not only be a violation of the most enduring symbol of America—free speech, but it would also take away the valuable skill that we want to cultivate in them: that what they say and how they say it matters to their health and to the health of our society and democracy.
The tragedy of Virginia Tech should wake us up to the realities of the serious emotional and mental health problems that our young people face in a society pushing and shoving them to consume, succeed and look beautiful at the cost of their uniquely sacred bodies. It is critical that students in all our schools have the right and access to not only heath care designed for their age but also a commitment to a curriculum on how to maintain it as well.
Labels: college students, creative writing, free speech, heatlh, spirituality, yoga
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