Professional Writing
or writing about my profession...

A paragraph:

SJAWP ISI 06

The 06 Institute, in two words, is creative and intense. Twenty participants – articulate, witty people - who teach in diverse settings from 1st grade to college, met for 20 days at the San Jose Area Writing Project Invitational Summer Institute, now dubbed ISI 06. This highly recommended group of educators rapidly melded into a community of writers and friends. They shared their expertise through demonstrations to highlight best practices or they bravely experimented with new approaches. We enjoyed humor along with the intensity and creativity: scribe notes, memoirs, diction exercises and creating our blogs. In our glorious four and-a-half week acquaintance, we have been reminded of the power of story, refreshed our poetic faculties, tackled essays from surprise angles and experienced multi-modal teaching. Book clubs reviewed latest professional publications in the field and writing groups have been attentive audiences giving honest feedback. Co-directors, Jonathan Lovell and Laura Brown, modeled and coached presenters and facilitated team building, but mostly have looked on in amazement as the ISI 06 reflects, writes and speaks.


The Deadline

Morning focuses slowly, with the coffee maker merely dribbling at the snack table, while participants mill around with empty white paper cups in hand. I wonder how could I feel so tired by Tuesday? Snacks appear and murmured repartee creates a skin of comfort. Some ISI friends are still in the parking garage getting their driving reputations out of hock. Today, even the reading of our Bird by Bird passage doesn’t alleviate a cold, inner strain. The scribe notes are funny, well-crafted reminders of how rich our ISI 06 has been so far. Finally, I begin to relax and smile naturally, when Jonathan mentions the P word.

He spoke only in passing, but the stainless steel moment kept some of us from breathing. It’s the Portfolio bit, with a capital P. A paralyzing prospect. Cognitive thought suspends. My stomach clenches and I try self-talk. “Come on, Brown…okay your wheels are spinning…you’ll get your professional writing done, somehow. Smile, you’re the co-director and – remember - you already got your certificate.” More emotional gravel flies and apprehension grapples with me. I cannot sensibly think when I might get this overwhelming task done. “At the very last minute, stupid!” says one of those inner voices. Our sentencing meeting will be later this afternoon. We don’t look at each other.

Gads, it’s contagious like the Anthology committee anxiety, only worse. I think I’m developing a full-scale anxiety neurosis. The summer calendar and deadlines are a blur. The end is rapidly approaching like the proverbial train. (You were eager and optimistic when you saw the light at the end of the tunnel, until you apprehend the meaning…)  ¶ 9:47 PM