Ethnography: July 30 (the last day)

Untitled

Part I: Prologue

            On the first day of the NVWP Summer Institute, a story walked in. He wasn’t a particularly large fellow, not a tall tale by any means; I guess you’d have to say he was a short story, and he was very sad.

            Sarah Baker, OFL, asked him what was wrong.

            “I’m a good story,” he said. “I’ve worked hard to meet all my story SOLs. But thus far, I feel incomplete. You see, I don’t have a title.”

            Peter had come over to listen to this sad story. “Ooh,” Peter said, “no title. For sure that could cause perspicacious irascibility.”

            “If you want,” Sarah said, “you can stay here with us. Maybe we’ll be able to help you find a title.” She turned to Amber. “Would that be okay with you?” she asked.

            “Sure,” Amber said. “Let me update the calendar. I’ll make you a folder on Google docs, too.”

            “But I don’t have a title,” the story said. “How can I have my own folder?”

            Amber thought about it a while. “We could use your initials. You’re an untitled story, right? So we can call you US.”

            Everyone liked the idea, but Peter noticed the team was not complete. “Should we check with Mark?” he asked.

            Sarah shook her head. “Mark’s over by the window, playing with his dongle. I think we should leave him alone.”

            “Incendiary!” Peter exclaimed.

            So the untitled story – or US, as he came to be known (although certain English teachers cringed when Sarah told them, “US is going to join the ISI”) settled in and looked to all the fellows for help.

            First up was Joe. “How can I get entitled?” US asked him.

            “Study your titling routines and processes,” Joe replied.

            Maggie added, “Find your titling territories. It’s not scary, it won’t make you pee your pants.”

            While US appreciated the advice, he didn’t see how that would help him become entitled.

            The next day he returned. “How do you title?” Sarah asked the group, but US thought, That’s fine for them, they already have titles. But how will ever I get one?

            Unfortunately, US had to leave early that day, so he missed hearing about cheese and chocolate. But as tasty as that sounded, he doubted it would have led him to a title.         
            “You have to go to Bootcamp,” Gaby said the next day. “Mine is ESOL but perhaps you can find a Title Bootcamp.”

            US agreed that might be helpful, but where would you find something like that? Being untitled, he didn’t even have a Twitter handle.

            “What you know stays with you,” Amy Frog said, but US thought, What about what you don’t know? Doesn’t that stay with you too? Besides, even her moose has a title.

            “You need to think about how titles are structured,” Katie offered. “After all, free verse is not always free.”

            “You’re trying too hard,” piped in John. “Come away with me on an island adventure. You might find a title there.”

            So US packed up with everyone else and went away. He thought they were going to an island, but instead they all just went to Winchester.

            The next day, someone he thought was named Progoff Dave said he might find a title in the silence. But the more he searched the silence, the sadder he became. Fortunately, there were tissues.

            Then Pete appeared. Surely Pete will understand the need of a short story to be entitled, US thought. But Pete already had a title for his story: that title was “PETE.” He didn’t seem all that interested in other titles.

            “You’re looking in the wrong place,” Janique offered. “You’ve been thinking of a title as a thing, but there should be action involved. Look for a title with strong verbs.”

            He tried a few: Untitling; Running With Titles, To Kill a Title, I Know Why the Caged Title Sings. But none seemed right.

            Next up was Amy W. “Who says you need a fricken title?” she asked. “If you don’t want one you don’t have to have one. Just tell everybody to stick it. Or,” she added,

“you could look for your title in Journalism and research.”

            US admired Amy’s spirit but he couldn’t get over the feeling that until he became entitled, he would be forever incomplete.

            “Maybe mentor titles will help,” offered Amy C. “If you read like a title, you might become a title. And once you have a title, you can persuade people it’s the right title for you.”

            US felt he was getting closer to becoming entitled, but there was still something vital missing. Dejected, he thought about leaving the ISI, but just then he saw the answer to all his prayers standing in front of the room. Yes, it was, it had to be: the Queen of Titles. Her desk was covered with them.

            Eureka, he thought. The Queen of Titles will save me. I’ll be entitled at last.

            “Can you give me a title?” he asked. “Can you make me feel complete?”

            But Michele shook her head in wisdom and sadness. “No one can give you a title,” she told US. “You have to find it for yourself.”

            US went back to join the group. The ISI was already past the halfway mark; time was going too fast.

            “Interview other titles,” Lauren suggested. “Find out how they got entitled. That might help you find your title too.”

            US was hopeful, but unfortunately, he discovered most titles don’t have much to say.

            Suddenly Mark, who had been sitting by the window trying to fit his dongle into his wordle, got up to speak. He’s a college professor, US thought; surely he’ll be able to help me get entitled. And while it’s true that Mark’s lesson was brilliant, no title came forth.

            “Use technology to find your title,” another visitor, Jen, suggested.

            “It’s political,” added Amber. “Stories are being given titles all the time without those stories having a voice in the matter.”

            “Just ask your students to come up with a title, no matter how much it sucks,” offered Nick. “They’ll even grade it for you.”

            “Look for symbols, turn to art,” offered Roxanne. “Isn’t this giant eye a giant eye whether or not it has a title?”

            “I agree,” said Diane. “Look to technology, to multi-genres. Although I must say I do empathize with your dilemma.”

            “It’s obvious where to find titles,” said Heather. “Start an online book club. The titles will come a mile a minute.”

            “De-grade!” cried Peter. “De-rubricate. De-rubricize?” For the first time since he memorized all 1079 pages of Infinite Jest at the age of three, Peter struggled to find the right word. “Make de-rubrification a reality!” he said at last.

            “Take the same approach with titles. De-title yourself. People place too much weight on titles anyway. Some people only read the title, they don’t ever even get to the story.”

            US had heard so many wonderful suggestions from so many smart and caring people. But he still felt incomplete; he remained untitled.

            What to do? The ISI had only one day left. He decided he would pay special attention on this final day. He’d write down everything that happened, and maybe somewhere, somehow, a title would be found.

Part II: The last day, as told by US (the untitled story):

            No frog food today. Hmm. A moose providing mousse to eat. I guess that’s no stranger than a story searching for its title.

            Peter and Sarah are out playing with sticks and stones. AmyFrog says, “It’s nine o’clock.”  She beats Mark to the punch, as yesterday he served as PeterLite, or perhaps, PeterHair. Today, he’s too interested in the mousse. (The ones in cups, not the hairy one. Although for the last day he’s been unable to get that moose voice out of his head. It’s very comforting.)

            Morning pages. What do you write on the last day? Mark says that if all goes well, soon I might have a little brother or sister. But he won’t get started on that until tomorrow, he says. I sure hope it doesn’t involve his dongle.

            There comes a time, when someone is missing or hasn’t arrived yet, that you don’t see an empty chair when you look, you see a missing face. I’m afraid that tomorrow, the space all around me will be filled with missing faces. But I think remembering will make them all smile.

            Amy W. is here, in pineapples. The group’s complete now.

            (You might be amused to know that Mark is tearing out his hair doing this. He’s so in love with revision I want to shout at him, “Why don’t you marry it?” He wants three days to set this aside and let it settle, another week to make changes. If he had to be ethnographer for a week he really would end up with less hair than Peter.)

            “All right, it’s 9:31,” Peter says, and tells us to use the bathroom (though not in as graphic a way as he has on other days.) I wonder how I’ll know when to go tomorrow?

            Amy C’s ethnography from yesterday: she’s got charts and slides and links. What if she shows a video? Is it too late to bring in a dance group to perform while I read mine?

            Wow! Amy’s write-up of what happened yesterday is even better than what happened yesterday. . .

            Mark says, Think of the ISI as a gift you’ve given to yourself. Now consider: who would you like to share this gift with? A fellow teacher? An administrator? A parent, child or spouse? There will be time to write, at your own pace, however you want to approach it.

            That’s one of two things slated for the morning. We go outside and Sarah explains the second thing: a prayer labyrinth. The sticks and stones make not just a path but a meditation space. Sarah says, “Find a rock that you like. Write on the rock what helps to make you resilient.”

            People find their rocks, write their words, walk through their space in their own ways and in their own time. I’m a story, made up only of words, and yet it’s nice to be among everyone moving through silence. The silence that remains with people even after they leave the labyrinth suggests they agree.

            What to write? It’s weird, but the words mean more written on a rock than just a piece of paper or a screen. It’s as if each word itself is a rock, has substance and weight. I write, “The best of us is always here.” Can I explain that? Will I need to? Probably not, because Mark will be the one reading this, and he and I have a special relationship.

            It makes me think about titles. I’ve been pretty resilient, even though I don’t have one. Maybe a title isn’t what makes you who you are, it’s just that part of yourself other people see first?

            Wow. Some people shared what they thought or wrote. Diane as an evolving sandwich, AmyFrog learning to listen to herself. Roxanne wanting to give her gift to so many others. Michele giving more gifts through her poem, the gifts of her voice and of her heart. Gaby will write a letter to the world.

            Surveys and evals and google docs, oh my.

            Ah. Lunch. . .

            The readaround. How to capture the essence of so many rich and powerful voices. Would it be cheating to say, You had to be there? Or: for complete reference, see “NVWP Anthology, Fairfax: NVWP Press, 2015.”

            I’m going to do it. Instead of describing all the readings, I’m going to enjoy listening to them. People will just end up blaming Mark, anyway.

            The clock moves forward.

            Suddenly. . .

            It happened! I can’t believe it! This is all so worth it – the early morning and late afternoon traffic; the desert heat in a crowded room; the strobe-light like Internet access; the smell of tar pervading the Johnson Center; the secret buildings George Mason refuses to post signs in front – all of it, who cares!

            We got certificates. Everyone – even me. It’s signed by all the staff, so you know it’s official.  And best of all – wait for it – this certificate gives each one of us a TITLE! Even me! I am officially a Teacher Consultant of the Northern Virginia Writing Project. At last, I am untitled no more.

            And yet, all that thinking I’ve been doing today stays with me. I know I felt incomplete without a title, but maybe that feeling was wrong. Maybe everything I was, and everything I am, was already there inside me. I didn’t know it, and not knowing it, I mistakenly thought it wasn’t there and could only come to me through a title. But it was in me all along, and that’s what this day, and these four weeks, has taught me (along with all those great demo lessons):  we have so much of value inside us, strength and wisdom and experience and love. And power, too. And the thing is, it’s in there whether we realize it or not.

            Of course, it’s easier to understand that and accept it, when you have a title. Not only that, but when you have a title, you know there will always be a place for you in the NVWP Table of Contents.

            -- Thank you, everyone. Mark