In a recent column, I mentioned a film, “Finding Forrester” starring Sean Connery. A gifted actor, Connery is best known for his depiction of “Bond, James Bond” in a blockbuster series of iconic suspense movies.
While doing Christmas cleaning, I ran across my DVD of the film, which I consider his best work.
As I previously wrote, the plot revolves around William Forrester, an aging author who forms an unexpected attachment to Jamal, a teen who is determined to become a successful writer himself.
I watched the film again, stopping to rewind and rewatch my favorite scene. It’s the one where Jamal asks William to explain how he goes about his craft. The old man’s response: “No thinking; that comes later. You write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The key to writing is to write, not to think.”
I smile with satisfaction because I used that same method when teaching middle and high school kids. It worked, especially for teen boys who found putting their thoughts on paper very difficult.
Sadly, most English teachers don’t teach writing today. It’s tough duty, and taking all those paragraphs, essays, term papers, poems and short stories home for evaluation is a monumental task. Now teachers must reckon with written assignments done using ChatGPT.
This “shortcut” may not be plagiarism, but isn’t it at least cheating light? Sure, there’s software a teacher can use to detect work that has been generated with AI, but imagine the time it takes to grade 135 assignments, much less put them through the detection process.
I do understand the temptation for students, but it doesn’t take an English degree to tell when a piece is not self-created. Case in point: I recently evaluated essays written by high school juniors who wanted to be chosen for a special award. Of the four submissions, two were too “perfect.” Out of curiosity, I used the appropriate software to check.
Bingo. Their submissions were indeed too good to be true, or truly their own work. What to do? Choose the ones whose work was original or the ones who used available technology to submit a polished, professional piece? I will leave it up to you to guess which ones made the cut.
I honestly get why this happens. Kids are expected to produce quality work, often without being given a process to accomplish it. I know the hardest part is getting started. I found that, if I got them going before the class ended, they would produce something. Some would wail, “But I don’t have anything to write about!” I taught them to begin with writing from the heart, a process called stream-of-consciousness or freewriting.
In this method, you write down whatever you’re thinking, basically dumping your thoughts onto the page. One example I recall is Stan, who started with this: “I hate this class & I hate Mizz Marsh. She makes us do this stupid writting. I hate writting! Its dumb. I wood rather hang out with Willie cuz we play vidyo games and eat Doritos which my mom won’t buy. Scott’s cool. I’m knowhere near as smart or poplar!!!”
Stan went on to describe his friend with sharp imagery and self-deprecating humor. When he finally came up for air, he was shocked to see he had filled two whole pages. Yes, his piece was filled with errors in spelling, punctuation, grammar and sentence structure. It needed extensive editing, but he had something to edit, which was the whole point. I helped him perfect his piece, which he presented to Willie as a birthday gift.
There are a lot of Kaukauna people who have strong ties to Townsend, and I run into former students on a regular basis. Almost all of them recognize me, which is nice, especially when they tell me I haven’t changed a bit. Either I looked very old when I was young, or they are being ever so nice.
Problem is, in 35 years, I had thousands of students, some for only nine weeks, so I may not recognize them. Plus, the guys have more tummy and less hair. The girls have different hair styles, wisdom lines and many have put on a few pounds. I used to pretend, but I’ve learned to apologize and ask for a name. As soon as they tell me, I remember every single one of them.
I love hearing about what they did with their lives. With few exceptions, they tell me I made a big difference at a critical time. It warms my heart when they proudly introduce me to spouses, children and, good grief, grandchildren. In some cases, I’ve waited a very long time for that gesture of affection and appreciation, but that’s OK. Better late than never.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
