Four years ago, I agreed to teach a writing class at the Hubbard Hall Arts And Education Center in my town of Cambridge.  I wasn’t sure about it, teaching writing well is not an easy thing to do, and I don’t believe it is done well in too many places. My first class was supposed to be four sessions, it went for two years. I’ve taught Art Of The Blog Twice, and Short Story Writing twice, and this class is wondrous and special a gift to me and to the world.

I have never taught a class as rich and deep and creative as this one, and I have had some wonderful classes. Every person in the class – there are 10 (five are not in the photo this holiday weekend) is working on a beautiful story, something rich and surprising and mysterious or poignant. Jim is writing in the voice of a dead man in the grave, Sandy is profiling a believed friend she knew in Africa who died of AIDS, Cheryl is writing in the voice of a discarded child in a school with no budget for helping her, Nan is writing about a troubled child’s deep love of her farm and of her search for stability, Rachel is exploring the power of family and connection, Karen, a nurse-practitioner, is writing the most powerful stories about medicine and miracles. Alex is a Puritan descendant whose ancestors tried to save the Salem Witches, she is struggling find her identity somewhere between the Puritan Ethic and the hard edges of American life.

I think this class – it was also supposed to be four sessions – will go on a long time, I hope so, I hope we can collect these wonderful stories and find a way to publish them in one volume, perhaps as an e-book.

The class is open, honest, funny, supportive and encouragement, not unlike the first class I taught, the one that went two happy years. Every week, I learn from this creative and courageous people, each one working to find their voice and share their stories. I don’t care to generalize, but I have always had the feeling that many writing classes end up telling people what they don’t do well rather than what they do. We all have stories to tell, the rest is technique and process. Red comes to every class (today they met the puppy too), and we read from one another’s work and then I talk about what might make the stories work better and the class joins in, their suggestions are helpful and cherished.

There is a teacher buried somewhere in me, I love doing it, the rewards for me are immense.