Graphic by Anjali Rao-Herel ’22
BY GWYNETH SPINCKEN ’22
When I was in high school, I was lucky enough to register for a creative writing class. I was unlucky enough, however, to do nothing in that hour but watch video lessons from an author who couldn’t stop advertising his own books.
This high school may have valued its curricular focus on critical thinking and interdisciplinary study, but this doesn’t mean that all subjects were treated with equal respect. The Science, Technology, Engineering and Math (STEM) departments were growing wildly, and disciplines in the humanities were often seen as the supposedly “easy” classes: the GPA boosters and extra APs. Most of us have heard of the prestige disparity between humanities and STEM, but are unsure how it can be combatted as the secondary education system enters a mad scramble for practicality at the expense of everything else.
Here’s a possibility and a necessity as the humanities move into the practical world: creative writing not only needs to be taught more often in secondary schools, but also with more rigor.
It may seem counterproductive to meet a question of prosaicism with creative writing, a subject that’s mired in whimsical inspiration or at least perceived to be. However, an understanding of creative writing implies an understanding of narrative. We often forget that everything is composed of narrative. We need stories to understand group behavior, historical events and figures and the psychological workings of others.
Dane Kuttler, a Northampton-based poet, asserts the necessity of narrative. “Humans, by and large, suck at remembering things in list form,” they said. “We’re far better at making sense of stories. You can tell me the steps of photosynthesis, but I’m not going to retain more than what I need to pass the quiz.”
Kuttler continued, “Tell me the story of sunlight, though, and I’ll hold on to that for a lot longer.”
Clearly, there’s more to writing than its practical applications. It’s not my intention to cheapen the pursuit. However, there are still benefits of practicing self-expression, many of them psychological. There’s a freedom to creating a world informed by imagination, and students at a high school age should be granted this privilege more often. These exercises shouldn’t be stopped when students are young, but continued as they advance.
“It’s scary to think of how much we lose as a society because of inadequate opportunities for students to learn and explore the arts,” Kuttler said.
Writing may offer those healing properties, but it’s also a pursuit that, with involved study, yields a robust grasp of original, creative language. When students formulate critical work, debate material and their communicative abilities, they rely on a mindset that can and should be exercised with fiction, poetry and other genres. The need for writing becomes an issue of articulation. To work around platitudes is to think more clearly, embrace linguistic creativity and listen actively to the words and meanings of others. Teaching creative writing is an avenue to instilling a love for language and, by extension, for others.
“Saying what you mean and meaning what you say are two of the things that separate humanity from the turtles, no offense to the turtles,” Kuttler said. “If you can find the right words for things, the right phrasings, it expands your capacity for empathy, for connection. Sometimes in life-saving ways.”
By preparing students to think creatively, educators are also giving them the proper tools to enter educated discourse, whether it’s at a local or international scale.
I couldn’t glean ways to improve my writing by watching videos in that old high school classroom. I noticed that in the dark, people were doodling in their notebooks. Personally, I say keep doodling: at least it’s a step in the right direction.