Mary asked so many questions. She wanted to learn and had so many aspirations to “go further” in life. She came to The Adult Learner Program wanting to get her GED, go to college, and manage her own family day care service. After attending classes for a few weeks, she found, however, that her “door” had only been cracked open; she realized her opportunities were endless with an education. She came almost every day to class and was excited to learn. She loved to tell stories and share them with everyone. She told them so eloquently and vividly. Since coming to Project HOPE, her writing skills significantly improved in sentence structure, organization, and clarity.
A few months after she joined our program her attendance waned. When she did go to class, she was physically there, but we could tell that she was not “mentally present.” One day I gave my class an assignment: Write about an important aspect of your life. It can be an entire autobiographical account from when you were born to the present or one event that has had an impact of your life. There are no specific rules for length or style. Share your story. Writing, which she had always been eager to do, became a frustrating task for Mary. She complained that I was pushing her to write and she had nothing to write about. Mary used to give me at least a two-page essay, but now it was a struggle to even hand in a paragraph. My image of Mary, a strong-willed woman who was always anxious to learn, had faded. I was disappointed and frustrated with her because she lost her desire to write. I blamed myself for not being able to connect with her. I tried to offer suggestions to stimulate her writing so it would return to its original structured and vibrant form. I pleaded with her, “write about food, Mary, you love to talk about food. Describe your family gatherings - all that food - what was the taste, the smell, the talk going on while the meal was being prepared, the conversation at the dinner table? Write down those stories you love to tell. That's all writing is, Mary, telling those stories!”
She couldn't do it.
I wrote a “suggestion list” for Mary so she could expand on the few sentences she handed in. I was willing to work with what little she gave me. I offered encouragement and told her how I admired the writing she had given me at the beginning of the year. I emphasized that I knew she had the talent and ability to write a beautiful essay. I wanted her to know that I did not want to push her, but I knew she could do better. I never got to give Mary the letter. The next day we found out that she had been murdered. At her funeral, we learned shocking news about the violence Mary experienced: Her son murdered her. We had no idea she even had a son, nor did we know he was threatening her. Her trust and faith in God always masked her problems. I remember our last conversation about that writing assignment. I told her I was frustrated her writing was not like it used to be. I asked her how her “life was, in general,”
hoping I could make sense of the problem. As always, she replied, “I'm truly blessed.”
She always said that, so we never knew anything was ever wrong. It was the usual façade she wore to cover her fear. It never occurred to me that there was a reason for her writer's block. I finally realized that her fear had caused her silence (Teacher reflection notes, 2000).