Mark Hanson - February 2009

Goth Crayon Box ®worth

Mark Hanson is a man who Walks the Talk. That phrase is overused, but in this case, I can only say that it applies. After working for years as a successful attorney, he turned on his heel and dove head first into teaching Language Arts and Civics at Centennial High School in Fort Collins, Colorado. Here, I’ll let Mark tell you in his own words:
“I tried to use writing as a way for alternate kids to learn to value and tell their own stories.   The tough kids, with the unpleasant histories, have great stories to tell.  Most rich educated kids have no experiences from which to draw:  my Volvo ran out of gas once--I lost my Frisbee--that kind of stuff.    Alternate kids have great stories, but need some help with skills and confidence to tell their great stories.  That's why I did it.  I attended various summer seminars:  Iowa Summer Writers' Workshops, Colorado Writing Project, National Writing Project as a way to acquire skills in teaching kids how to tell their own stories with authenticity and voice.    Nothing that happens to you is necessarily good or bad--though it may seem so.  It takes time and imagination to turn a negative experience into fuel for writing--and transforms the experience into something positive, in a strange kind of alchemy.”

Thanks Mark. You’re my Hero. Enjoy this month’s Bonfire:

Circle Up

by

Mark Hanson

There is a popular classroom ritual used in my high school, a small alternate high school for non-traditional students who have “failed to thrive” at the larger comprehensive high schools.

It is a simple exercise by which everyone in the room “checks in.” They state their name, how their day is going on a scale of 1 - 10, and respond briefly to some sort of “prompt.”

It is especially helpful for the Creative Writing course. I teach.  The purpose is to put people on notice that someone is having a particularly difficult or remarkable day, and the speaker is invited to share some about the specifics. If the person needs help with something or wants to avoid people for a while, that comes out. It helps set the tone for the class, and helps the teacher take the temperature of the group for the activity for the day. Oftentimes, the prompt will relate to the day’s lesson plan, jump starting thinking about the writing for the day.

One such prompt is to pay a compliment to someone in the circle. The ritual is that it be done in the second person, and made directly to the person receiving the compliment-- ”I’d like to compliment you, Stephen,”  Its object is to call to mind something positive about somebody, often unnoticed and under appreciated until it is pointed out in this dramatic, public forum.  And it feels good to get a compliment.  The soft skill that is being taught and modeled deals with recognizing and honoring qualities in another, and in accepting compliments gracefully.

This is the story of a particularly memorable “Circle Up” exercise in Creative Writing class.  Most of the students are finishing up the last semester before graduation.

David is there--this gangly looking kid who resembles the sasquatch of folklore. He stands six foot five with long black hair and a funny loping walk. Ever the smart aleck, quick with a quip or a putdown, he's a little too hip and clever for his own good.  His mind is nimble and his skills are impressive.   David knows his way around controlled substances and thinks he’s smarter than everybody else.  He is not known for his warm fuzzy people skills, that’s for sure.  He is the first to pay a compliment this morning.

And Stephen is there--Stephen the little Jesus freak. He wears black polyester slacks and some sort of built up black orthopedic shoes, with cardigan sweaters and button down shirts. Stephen is an odd kid to be in an alternate school, straight as an arrow, carries around his Bible and likely hasn’t ever had anything to drink stronger than ginger ale. Stephen is quite a contrast to every other alternate kid.  Kids don’t really seek him out, but they tease him a lot, about being square and unhip and a little too out front with the whole Jesus thing.

The exercise begins, and David, ever the clown, looks around the room feigning intense concentration, looking at everyone, milking the moment for whatever drama he can. Everyone expects him to say something sarcastic and snide, and the teacher frequently has to redirect him back to the circle and the prompt.

And when he starts, “I’d like to compliment you, Stephen,” everybody winces a little because Stephen is no match for David’s wit.  People assume that David will do something hurtful to Stephen.  It has happened before.

“I’d like to compliment you, Stephen, for having the courage to defend your religious faith.” Everybody stops, thinking that David would take this to an unhappy, sarcastic place. He continues. “You talk about your faith here at this school, this godless school. You talk about it unashamed and unafraid. People tease you about it, behind your back and not behind your back, and you are unfazed. It must take a great deal of courage on your part, and I admire you for it.”

He goes on:  “People around here have looked and looked for something in life to hold onto and to give meaning to their lives. We look to drugs and alcohol and rap music and pot and sex and everything. And we come up empty. And yet you have found meaning in your life without any of these things. And WE tease YOU? You have found it. I wish I had something in my life that was half as meaningful to me as your faith is to you. I admire your faith. I envy you your faith.”

The room falls silent. Not only is this the first time David has ever played it totally straight, there has been a great uneasiness surrounding the whole Stephen-Jesus connection.

Stephen sits there, stunned. The silence stays in the room. Part of the protocol of the exercise is to “sit in your sunshine,” to savor the moment, to accept the compliment graciously.  But this silence is a little longer.

Then something happens which has never happened before.  Somebody starts to clap. Just a couple of slow, rhythmic claps to start, and then everybody joins in, applauding Stephen and his faith and his courage and the recognition that he finally gets, after all the pain he has endured in public education, going back to his first week in kindergarten. .  Here is a kid who has to wait until the last semester of his senior year finally to get an acknowledgment for the courage of his conviction.

It was a great day in pubic education and a day I’ll never forget. 

Comments

[suzanne]

Great story. I was also an alternative high school student myself, yet the staff there always believed that each and every one of us had potential and cheered us on. With an A.A. in Electronics Technology and a Bachelor's in I.T. (3.95 GPA), both earned while I worked full-time, I guess I managed to eventually make something of myself! Many of my fellow classmates were actually pretty bright but just couldn't fit into the mold required of traditional high school. So Stephen and David sound pretty typical of the students that I knew. I applaud the kids in the story, they caught on early what it takes many people years to learn--that different is not bad, and being true to yourself and your beliefs both takes and demonstrates a HUGE amount of strength.

[JeriAnn]

A wonderful, moving story! How great to hear a story of teen-aged compassion. Thank you for sharing it, Mark.

[Micah Hoffman]

A delightful tale. I myself attended Centennial, and remembered many a moment where authenticity broke through our stubborn and imaginative dramas, and I remember the paradox of the joy and release as well as the pure awkwardness and nakedness of these moments. Mark, thank you for this memory.

[stephanie]

Wow, what a story, so moving and full of lessons and hope for all of us, young and old.

and...talk about insightful, wonderful comment Micah...

[michelle ward]

Mark, you are a brilliant writer, you had me totally there. I'm clapping too, not only for the courage of both boys, but for YOU, who set the table and encouraged *circle time*. And I LOVE the recognition of conviction, no matter what the subject. You have it, Stephen has it, and David *got* it.

Thank you Lisa, for bringing Mark's story to the Bonfire.

p.s. adoring that goth crayon box.

[Marylinn Kelly]

Your story makes me wonder why any of us expend energy doing anything but telling the truth (well, I know some of the answers, but still...) My brother teaches music to an at-risk population in Australia, having found over his more than 20 years that music is a way in and a way out. Thanks to you and Lisa for a story of heeding the call to create a safe space where our children can be or become who they are.

[Seth]

Thanks so much for telling this story. It is moving, eye-opening, thought provoking, and so much more. I could completely visualize this circle and the impact of the moment that David paid the compliment to Stephen. For me, the story symbolizes faith, hope, and the importance of authenticity.

[3rdEyeMuse]

I am so moved. thank you.

[jean]

ooo my, that is truly, a special story....

[Steve A - Tucson]

Excellent sharing. Thanks so much for enlightening us all, and for showing more reasons for supporting education and other programs designed for our youth -- all youth. As a public school teacher, I can say with confidence that all learners (youth) experience a host of challenges while growing up. So many of our younger friends are 'at risk' of not 'making it.' David and Stephen (and you, of course) have shown that resilience truly does exist, and there is hope for our communities, after all.