Miquel de Montaigne--Father of the Essay
In 1571, he retired from public life to the Tower of the Château, his so-called "citadel", in the Dordogne, where he almost totally isolated himself from every social and family affair. Locked up in his library, which boasted a collection of some 1,500 works, he began work on his Essais ("Essays"), first published in 1580. On the day of his 38th birthday, as he entered this almost ten-year period of self-imposed reclusion, he had the following inscription crown the bookshelves of his working chamber:
'In the year of Christ 1571, at the age of thirty-eight, on the last day of February, his birthday, Michael de Montaigne, long weary of the servitude of the court and of public employments, while still entire, retired to the bosom of the learned virgins, where in calm and freedom from all cares he will spend what little remains of his life, now more than half run out. If the fates permit, he will complete this abode, this sweet ancestral retreat; and he has consecrated it to his freedom, tranquility, and leisure.’[10] (Wikipedia--yep, that's right...that's my source and I'm stickin' to it. Breaking all the rules my English teacher peeps!)
And what did he do? He wrote. He wrote his Essays. Oodles o' Essays.
The USA can stand proud and say that our kids write lots of essays, too. Why, little Johnny got a four on his holistically graded essay. He must be real smart. Can't spell to save his life...shhh...that won't matter not a bit. He don't know no real big words. But he don't need that. Naw. So long as he can spit out four, five, six paragraphs on command, won't matter that he ain't never finished the whole English grammar book his entire K-12 career. And if he can't read real great which might could help his writing, then we'll get him a special reading class. Get him some extra help. Don't matter none that the reading book ain't got no real stories in it. We'll pour some test-taking strategies into his noggin and he will be good to go come test season.
Standardized testing, No Child Left Behind, the frenetic drumbeat of rigor, and, indubitably, teacher accountability have worked together to KILL our children's love of writing. Essais translates literally to attempts (Wikipedia, again) Unskilled and not well-read, our children have had the "art" of essay shoved down their throats since they were in fourth grade.
Overwhelmed teachers have too little to work with and too much to teach. They must decide between holistic grading, old-school red penning, checkmarks, or the worst of all possibilities, simply skipping the essay. Ah, they don't get tested this year on essay writing. Let's leave that for the other grades.
Don't think that it's only the English teachers facing this madness! I have shaken my head when gung-ho administrators have said these famous words, "And it's not just gonna be the writing teachers teaching written responses. It's gonna be math and science and even you PE teachers." Brilliant! What a grand idea! We should definitely have our coaches enrich our students' writing. Or better yet, the school's resident physics teacher needs to assign a MANDATORY essay because some out-of-touch administrator has thought it was a good use of the teacher's time. And make no mistake--you kids know it's all a bunch of bull! You know that your peers are just doing the grind. They are not better writers; they are simply better at verbally vomiting whatever will get them their A! You, the United States of America, better hope to hell that they will even keep trying for the A. Because many of them don't care, won't care, and will hate writing until the day they die.
So, my beautiful daughters, why the diatribe? Why am I so passionate about this subject?
Because I want you to love writing.
I want you to know the power of the pen. I want you to write when your heart is on fire in love. Or when your soul is crushed with grief. I want you to write angry, impassioned letters to your politicians when they are not listening. I want you to write a brilliant snail-mail letter to the CEO of Apple when the link to buy gift cards doesn't work. I want you to write to your children--whatever you stand for and whoever you become. I want you to know that YOUR words matter...that YOUR thoughts are real and meaningful!
I don't care about how your mandatory essays are scored. I could care less. I care about YOUR excitement about YOUR words. I care about what YOU are passionate about.
I care about YOUR ATTEMPTS. Make a whole lot of attempts. Screw up! Write until you get it all out.
Like Anna Nalick's song "Breathe"--
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
And mark my words, those feelings will have to go somewhere. And when those thoughts have to come out with your words: you can right some of the wrongs of the world; you can mend your broken heart; you can comfort your loved ones; and after your hand is tired and you've nothing left to say, you can:
Breathe!
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