September

Dr. Paul Rogers: Learning to Write, Writing to Learn

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The Write Stuff - Virginia
September 2014

Amidst the rush of graduate classes this past summer, I had the opportunity to meet, share writing with, and learn from Dr. Paul M. Rogers, Associate Chair of English at George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia.  He was ending his three year leadership role as the director of the Northern Virginia Writing Project, and was finishing his fifth year as leader of the Invitational Summer Institute.  With NVWP as the impetus for this blog, Dr. Rogers, Paul as he prefers, was the first name that came to mind when I started considering people who might have excellent advice for teachers seeking to use writing in their classrooms.

Editorial: Why Writing? Why Now?

Why writing? Why now? Or perhaps that second question should be why not? There seems to be a pervading belief throughout education that writing belongs solely to the English domain, that time and resources prohibit its incorporation into lessons in other core areas of teaching; however, the practice of writing, and drawing by extension, is humankind’s oldest form of communication. For retention of information, for sparking innovative ideas and new connections, writing remains one of our strongest tools. Consistent, content-rich writing practice facilitates our students’ abilities to elaborate, support with evidence, think logically, organize, collaborate, and think “outside the box”. Certainly, the daily practice of writing is crucial for those interested in making it part of their creative lives, because developing a life centered around published writing requires a person to do the work every day. More than that, though, writing well, developing those synapses that allow us to communicate effectively and familiarly with other human beings, simply enriches our lives. I believe that is what we are in the business of doing: enriching our students’ lives through learning. Writing is work, and it can be difficult, but it can also be fun and can readily open a student’s mind for learning.

This summer, I completed work through George Mason University’s Northern Virginia Writing Project, where we ate, slept, and breathed writing for four intensive weeks. Here, teachers from every grade level and many subject areas collaborated daily on ways to incorporate writing into their lessons. Visiting presenters from area high schools, George Mason University, and Johns Hopkins University fitted us with invaluable tools to enrich our students’ experiences through the practice of writing in the coming year. With their modeling as a scaffold, we presented our own lessons, the best of the best writing ideas that we had used in our classrooms. Additionally, we did the work of writing. We wrote morning pages for thirty minutes each day, met in writers groups, developed solid pieces of writing, and published an anthology. As was the program’s intent, we left as teachers of writing who also write.

As an extension of these experiences, I am initiating this blog: The Write Stuff – Virginia. Using my background as a columnist for Front Porch Magazine, I will provide my readers interviews with teachers throughout the state of Virginia who use writing as an integral part of their lessons. Of course, you will see many ideas from English teachers here, but I plan to reach out to instructors of all content areas and grade levels to facilitate a movement of educators who view writing as an essential piece of their teaching philosophy.

Elizabeth Seaver: A Clowder of Cats

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Front Porch Magazine
September 2014 (pg. 8)

When an artist instinctively creates something unique, there is a recognizable spark that transfers through the end of the brush to the work.  So believes Elizabeth Seaver, an artist with an instantly recognizable style who reveals her spark through anthropomorphism and whimsy, color and collage.  A fixture of the Fredericksburg arts community since her residency and show at LibertyTown Arts Workshop in 2009, Seaver reveals the secret lives of cats in her latest series on display at Bistro Bethem.  

Elizabeth Seaver's show at Bistro Bethem

Editorial: Personal Histories

in

Front Porch Magazine
September 2014 (pg. 4)

If it has not happened already, there will come a day when you’ll be struck with the realization that life has its own designs, that the place you thought you would be at 30…50…80 is not exactly as you had pictured it, and you will reflect on your story looking for the sweet spots, the turning points, the common chords where it veered from your plan to bring you to this day.  The people with whom you’ve interacted, the places you’ve visited, and the choices you’ve had to make, these will be your history.  In retrospect, the circumstances will give you pause, and the minute choices that have shaped your life will make you dizzy. 

Like many, my personal history includes being a transplant to Fredericksburg, though after many years here I claim it as my home.  I was born in Georgetown Hospital in Washington, D.C., and I grew up comfortably amidst NOVA’s suburban sprawl.  When I was a kid, my father and I often rode our bikes along the W&OD Trail from Falls Church to Reston and back.  We walked to 7-Eleven across the mud fields that would become the Westmoreland Street exit of Route 66, and we traveled to National Airport to eat white chocolate and watch the planes fly in and out over the Potomac River.  My mother and I caught movies at the Vienna Theater on the weekends and wore holes in our shoes shopping at Tysons Corner. As a teen, I navigated the Metro with friends and mastered the Beltway ballet of Route 495 in my first car, a Mercury Topaz.  After moving to Blacksburg for college, after my boy was born at the end of my final year there, and after a short period of living in Kent, Ohio, I moved to Fredericksburg to support my mother and spend time with my father as he battled esophageal cancer.  That was 1998.  That was sixteen years ago. 

Since that time, I’ve made a career of teaching English to middle school students in public school.  Of any job I have ever had, teaching has by far provided me with the most opportunity to change lives, and in return my own has been altered as well.  If you want to experience life’s penchant for steering the course, become a teacher, because every day is a surprise.  For thirteen years I have spent close to 135 hours with my students over the course of each year.  I am keenly aware that I am a part of roughly 1,800 histories, for better or worse, in a small role or large.  It’s quite a responsibility that we have to each other.  But then, shouldn’t it always be so?

My son’s personal history has been written in Fredericksburg. With the exception of yearly visits with his father in California, every milestone has taken place here from the time he turned three years old.   When we first moved, we lived in a townhouse on the corner of Amelia and Prince Edward streets, allowing us to walk everywhere.  We frequented favorite kid-friendly shops, like the sorely missed FUNdaMentals, Jabberwocky Books, and what my son referred to as “the train store” (officially Quilts and Treasures).  His childhood in Fredericksburg wouldn’t have been complete without visits to the soda fountain at Goolrick’s for milkshakes and grilled cheese sandwiches, or the corner Cards and Cones for hard-packed ice-cream.  We often ate at Roma, which is now Poppy Hill, whose spaghetti marinara contained so much minced garlic that we would wake up the next morning smelling like bulbs mashed into the ground.  We would grab slices of pizza at Castiglia’s and read our Sunday Post at Hyperion, much like I see young parents doing today, sharing hot chocolate and muffins or cookies.  He’s been in college for a year now, writing his own history, rolling in life’s waves.

Like my family, each of you has a story to tell, whether to your inner circle or the wider public.  Each is a piece of our community’s history.  Such a simple, seemingly obvious thought at first, but the intricacies of our interactions are nothing to scoff at; though subtle, they are far-reaching.  The stories recorded in Front Porch Magazine over the past eighteen years have impacted multiple histories – those of the subjects, of the writers, and of the audience.  Front Porch has introduced us to each other in unexpected ways, encouraging empathy, spotlighting commonalities we share, and broadening our perspectives beyond what was written in our past.  Front Porch sends us into the community in pursuit of new adventures to add to our stories.  Whether those adventures go as planned is not always up to us, and where they will take us next is what makes life exciting. 

 

On the Porch Selfies

Pamela Mann: Traversing Faiths

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Front Porch Magazine
September 2012 (pg. 8)

The labyrinth is a fitting symbol for a life well lived. The adept traverse its curves, twist in unlikely directions, and sometimes even double back, but they always leave their minds open to meditate on events that shape the journey. In kind, Pamela Mann didn’t realize that working with labyrinths would become her passion when she encountered one in California in 1998, leading to the birth of her first labyrinth project for Trinity Episcopal Church in Manassas, VA; nor could she foresee that the labyrinth would guide her toward a path of interfaith ministry. She reflects, “That’s one of the gifts of the labyrinth; it’s a mirror and metaphor for your relationships and life. When you walk a labyrinth you should observe everything that happens, every encounter, because when you later process the journey, you find that it is reflective of something that’s going on in your current situation.”

Finding Center: Meditation Community of Fredericksburg Offers a Balanced Perspective

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Front Porch Magazine
September 2011

Eight years ago, John McLaughlin approached Todd Drake with an inspired plan.  Energized by a recent visit to Thich Nhat Hanh’s Plum Village Monastery in France, McLaughlin proposed a meditation community, a sangha, in Fredericksburg.  The meditation group with which Drake had been involved had recently dissolved, and he was keen on starting fresh with the enthusiastic and explorative McLaughlin.  Ever the passionate intellectual, Drake organized a routine centered on the philosophy of Insight Meditation, a branch focusing on mindful thought, speech, and action.   With the addition of Bill Brooks, a disciplined and diligent meditation practitioner, and Leigh D’Lugos, who specializes in guided meditation, the equanimous group took on coherence.  Imbued with knowledge and experiences from numerous retreats and years of study, the facilitators complement each other in their personal devotion to the practice of meditation and its benefits.  They motivate participants to return week after week to connect within an open-minded community and to deepen their own practices.

Brooks ponders, “I think a lot of people are overwhelmed by the idea of meditation because they think it’s something they have to do for hours or many times a day.”

“Lotus position,” McLaughlin interjects with a grin.

“And they can’t think!” Drake laughs heartily. 

“Right, there are a lot of misconceptions about it.  In terms of accessibility, if you’ve got five minutes, sit and be silent for those five minutes and hold the awareness as best you can. Ten minutes in traffic? Use it to practice. Over time the benefits become apparent,” Brooks explains.

Drake nods, “For people who want to explore the benefits of meditation, this is a place where they can learn to do that.  They don’t have to worry about being something extraordinary; they can just relax and learn the practice.  Meditating within the sangha strengthens your own practice, deepening your concentration.”

“It’s one thing to sit on your cushion and meditate by yourself; the sangha provides support wherein we share the trials and tribulations of the practice. It is affirming in terms of personal progress,” shares Brooks.

With opportunities to practice sitting meditation each Thursday evening, Mindful Listening on alternating Thursdays, and Mindful Recovery for those managing addiction on Friday nights, Meditation Community of Fredericksburg offers a flexible and accessible schedule to the wider populous.   The group’s facilitators are devoted to developing a community of practitioners, and their vision for greater communication and connectedness extends far beyond the sangha. 

“I had begun to feel like I was moving through life with a machete,” explains the pragmatic D’Lugos, “knocking down goals in front of me and always reaching for the next thing.  I was missing the present and I was mentally exhausted.  I wanted to learn to live more in the moment, and others can too.”

“We have a personal practice that we find very beneficial, and we have shared that within this sangha for eight years; so the impetus for Meditation Community of Fredericksburg was to make it an organization with more of a public face,” expounds Brooks.

“It is important to all of us that our groups remain secular.  The practice should not be viewed as religious or philosophical, rather as a practical tool that is open to people of all faiths,” continues McLaughlin, “There’s so much suffering out there; I see it every day.  We know that this practice can relieve peoples’ suffering.  With Meditation Community of Fredericksburg, we are offering people a place to have significant conversations about trust, forgiveness, and loving kindness.”  

Ultimately, Drake finds the truth, “We live in a very chaotic world, one that needs more balance, and that balance has to come from within each one of us.”

Find more information about Mediation Community of Fredericksburg at www.meditatefred.com.