Scribbles of Insight : Tutoring Reflection

This fall, I started English 101 as an old dog, trying to learn new tricks. I had gained the temperament of Old Yeller over the years – steady, patient, reliable, and ready to do the work. The wisdom gained by years of not dying is blessing to be sure, but it also comes with the additive of being rather set. When I learned that I had to work with tutors for the class, I grumpily complied. I had already written my first essay, which was deeply personal, and I shuddered to think of someone reading it, reading me, as vulnerable words laid bare across the page. I mentally cursed my professor for not warning me and submitted my work to the tutor.

 I’m a passionate person, and I was often criticized for burning a little too hot for most people’s preference. They say, “you can’t be everyone’s cut of tea,” and as it turns out, most people don’t like their tea scalding. Another lesson I had learned over the years was to dampen myself, to be more tepid, palatable, demure. During our first few modules, we learned about descriptive writing, read through Mark Twain’s “Two Ways of Seeing a River,” and we were told to explore language that held no bounds in our writing. I tentatively approached the first essay with reservation; how intense am I allowed to be? I heard a whisper from the authors we had studied, a collective voice of creatives told me to just write. My passion was welcome here.

Still, I was nervous to hear what the tutor had to say. I felt like I committed a grave faux pa. As I submitted the essay, I wrote a note apologizing to the tutor for my flowery language. When I got the notification that a tutor had reviewed my essay, I immediately felt my cheeks burn, and my body reacted as if a grizzly bear had just walked into the room. Mario was assigned to my essay, and his first note was “Amber, this is descriptive to say the least. I don’t know if I would call it flowery though as you did. I feel it’s bold and in your face (but in a good way.)” Tears of relief threatened to spill from my eyes, and at that moment I wondered how long I had been waiting, unconsciously, for someone to accept that side of me. Sappiness aside, he had some great feedback that reminded me that writing is a social activity. Until this class, I had only written descriptively for myself, and while my ideas were clear to me, some concepts were not clear to Mario. After taking his gentle feedback in mind, I revised my essay for clarity.

I can’t say that all my tutoring sessions were fruitful. For example, on my second essay, I was reminded that most academic essays were written in 3rd person. That would have been excellent feedback if the rubric hadn’t required a personal anecdote. He had some advice on adding more to my “call to action,” which reinforced that good writing makes good things happen. Words are powerful when used for good, and I strengthened the encouragement offered to new writers as the essay prompted.

Across all sessions, I realized that failure can be important to one's writing development, as each revision, even if imperfect, propelled my learning forward. These tutoring experiences collectively strengthened my understanding that writing is both a technology that requires mastery and a process where there is always room to grow – even for feisty old dogs like me.