Recognizing My Role

So much of my time was spent planning and thinking about the class, it came as a surprise to me when the participants were not doing the same. That is not to say they didn't value their time in our classroom, but fitting a two-hour class in with work, children, and the day-to-day grind of life was often difficult. In the eleven weeks that we ran the course, one woman was being forced out of the shelter because her time was up, one was denied access to her kids despite positive changes in her life and one was living in an unsafe and unhealthy home where she wasn't even allowed to have a key. These were only some of the things going on in these women's lives in only three short months. Pretending that writing class was a priority seemed crazy. I began to get a much clearer understanding of how it would be difficult for someone to concentrate and hold their nervous energy in check. However, each woman, for her own reasons, made the class a priority. As a facilitator, it was important for me to respect the time and effort the students were putting into class. I also had to be patient and understanding when the students were not present either because they were physically absent or present but too distracted to contribute in a positive and helpful way.

The outside lives of our students played a huge role in the classroom. One incident in particular really made me realize what my role was as a facilitator. During the course of our eleven weeks together, one student attempted to commit suicide. She missed one class, and then arranged for a pass from the hospital to attend our final session. That day in her freewriting she wrote:

[My mental health worker] and Janet got me a pass to come to writing group this morning. I feel great about that. I'm glad I have some good friends around me that really care about me. I'm feeling better every day. I'm changing attitude little by little. I'm glad to be here today. The world doesn't look so gloomy anymore. I'm happy to be alive still.¹⁶

Obviously, her health and well-being were more important than attending writing class. The class, however, had become a safe and comfortable space for her to express herself. I was a teacher and a leader, but most importantly, I was someone she could count on. The class and I were there to support her, and ensuring that they did so was my most important role.