Unleashing Revision and Unlocking the Guilt

“The best thing you can do is the right thing; the next best thing you can do is the wrong thing; the worst thing you can do is nothing.” -Theodore Roosevelt

Our discussion last week about breaking through the “comfort blindness” that can take over a session reverberated through the back of my mind as my childhood friend asked if I would help her out with her first major college paper. Knowing that she came to me mainly because it’s familiar, partly because she knows that I love to help people with their writing, and possibly due to the idea of going to complete strangers to pull apart her work made her queasy—I found myself questioning the “correct” way to approach the situation.  And it’s so much more complicated than questioning the opposition…

The value she sees in education has evolved drastically in the last thirteen years.  A high school dropout at not even sixteen, she’s always been quick to judge what the point of an education when she believed that life experience carried more credence over book smarts. Even though we’ve grown up together, it’s always been on very different paths. 

I was what she called “a conformist”—I did what I was told to do, therefore I never learned how to find the answers for myself.  In a sense she’s been right.  But that’s not the point of today’s post…

She has always been a fighter---skipping the “bullshit” of high school, she received her GED/HSE at sixteen, ran away from home, witnessed the harshness of the “real world” losing friend after friend to overdose, suicide, to becoming a mother at eighteen.  Every step she took from that moment on was to provide the best possible life for her family. 

Now, married for almost ten years, a family of five children, Mandy carries guilt over her choice to return to college.  Not for the path she chose, but for the selfishness she believes her decision is for not “being there”-- to clean up after her family, to sit in front of the TV and bond over “The Family Guy”—because that has been their routine.  So rather than embracing this opportunity for what it really is, she came to me with a chip on her shoulder that her paper is more than just a paper, it’s a sacrifice for not being there for her kids and husband.

Before I could even address the content of her paper, I found myself needing to confront the boulder of resentment that wedged itself into the back of my best friend.  Not the easiest of tasks, mind you.  But I HAD to—she needed me to ask her the tougher questions--what choices brought her to this belief, what choices brought her to this point in her life—a conversation that I feared would be combative at best and fracture our relationship. 

What shocked me were her responses—she’s here because she needs to be. 

Every choice she’s made up to this point has been for her family and the decision to pursue a college degree is not different.  The value of academic education adds to her life experience to offer her the chance to have a career, rather than a life working paycheck to paycheck. Her piss-poor attitude about public education isn’t what she wants her children to adopt. Rather, witnessing her go back to school, struggle through elementary algebra for no credit for the next two semesters because of her choice to quit school all those years ago, could and should be a motivator for her kids to keep striving on through school, no matter how difficult it may seem. 

Helping her talk through her “walk” allowed Mandy to see how her personal educational experiences tied into the articles that touched on many different themes of education: the true value of knowledge, allowing one self to see the bigger picture, and the value of the “last resort college”. 

Provocative Revision

Our session, if you could call it that, moved into the ‘puzzle’ phase and I was able to utilize this week’s discussions about more provocative revision.  Her final draft is due next Fri, so there is a bit of a time constraint.  However, I was able to help her see where she could weave her personal narrative around the different articles and show her the benefit of saving her drafts separately rather than lose the opportunity to have hard copy evidence of the evolution of her project.  

We battled over phrasing, rearranging paragraphs, etc.  Because of the emotional attachment to the paper she still had.  But rather than it turn into an awkward, uncomfortable mess I felt that, because what I’ve learned thus far, I was able to approach the suggestions with the confidence that it was my responsibility to.

 

I needed to help her unlock to shackles of guilt over working on this paper rather than spend time with her family.  Not to the extent of “soapboxing” of course, but I had to get real with her at times and remind her that it’s not selfish of her to choose homework over daily chores.  The world will not end if her husband or two 12 year old kids have to pick up the slack now that she’s in school. 

At one point I said, “It’s not your conscience that your hearing or guilt that you’re feeling when you’re in the other room.  You are going through withdrawal.  You AND your family are detoxing from your previous lifestyle is all.  But it’s a change that’s necessary in order for you to succeed at your goal of getting a degree.”

I managed to open her eyes and see that the revision process doesn’t have to hurt.  I wasn’t attacking her or trying to erase the amount of hardship that went into the paper.  She here until almost 1 a.m.…

…writing, deleting, writing some more, getting the delirious giggles with her best friend and continuing a conversation about her goals to remain motivated—even in times of guilt.  And she went home prepared to hand in a first draft that fulfilled the assignment for the moment—I warned her that the next draft had the potential to go in a completely different direction.  

But she left my house with an action plan:  to keep a copy of this draft as a reference, to practice limiting by free writing about a very specific moment that involved her decision to go back to school, and to make an appointment with her school’s writing center (CWI) and not be afraid to work with strangers.  But that I’ll always be there for her. 

I recognize that I won't get this kind of session every time I work with someone.  Perhaps it won’t ever happen again.  But I’m glad I agreed to help my oldest and dearest friend—it definitely wasn’t easy, but this night will remain with me as a pivotal moment.  I am even more confidant in my choice of major just as Mandy is secure in her choice to go to college.