Belief and Technique for Modern Prose: List of Essentials

• Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
• Something that you feel will find its own form
• Blow as deep as you want to blow
• Write what you want bottomless from the bottom of the mind
• The unspeakable visions of the individual
• No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
• Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
• Write in recollection and amazement of yourself
• Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
• Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
• Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
• You're a Genius all the time

By Jack Kerouac, excerpted precisely as published from a letter to Don Allen, 1958; from Heaven & Other Poems (1994). San Francisco: Grey Fox Press.

When I was an impressionable, romantic English major, Kerouac embodied what it meant to be a writer—free, wildly original, unbridled by convention and cobwebbed rules—and his outrageous laundry list for writers, Belief and Technique for Modern Prose, was my gospel. With such writerly jewels as "Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition" and "No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge" he was aeons ahead of such writing gurus as Peter Elbow and the process writing gang.

Years later I am teaching an ABE/ESOL reading and writing class. I have not completely shelved St. Jack's tenets on writing—for those first attempts at putting thoughts on paper, Kerouac's on the money—but experience has taught me that student writers need process writing's structure, direction, models, and consultations with the teacher. Yet, every time we sit down to write, I try to sneak Kerouac into my classroom and hope that his spirit will infuse my student writers—especially the blocked and timid writers.

Do I have a patented, no-fail, true blue method for teaching writing that leaves students flushed with delight and clamoring for more? Can't say I do. Every class, every encounter with the writing muse is different. Sometimes it's a joyless, sluggish interlude, other times students keep right up until 8:57 p.m.

Let me show you firsthand a typical writing encounter in my class. Please step inside; there's an empty seat in back—Lila's absent because she had to work a double. Allow me to introduce you to some of some student archetypes:

• Kemil, the elder statesman of the class, likes to write but is mortally afraid of making grammatical and spelling errors so he chooses not to. If coaxed enough, he will produce a few original sentences with scrambled syntax that can generally be understood. Usually, he copies sentences from the reading.
• Juma writes like one who's afraid of having his heart broken. He is cautious and tentative, wistful and longing. He says he wants to improve his writing and get a GED (his long-term goal) but he always writes the same two "safe" sentences.
• Talima is gung-ho about writing and once started, it's hard to get her to stop. She tends to write very personal and confessional things and while she does care about spelling and grammar, she doesn't let it hinder her.
• Moi is a dreamy, somewhat withdrawn student who rarely adheres to writing prompts. He writes what he wants, when he wants. Sometimes, he will refuse to write a word and the following class, he will hand in an extensive and thoughtful response that he wrote at home.
• Mona wants to write, but won't even make an attempt unless the teacher is shadowing her, acting as a midwife to her every word, every sentence. She constantly asks how to spell words and check on grammar and gets impatient when the teacher is busy with another student.

We have just finished reading an article in Easy English News entitled "Elections 2004: Will the voting machines work?" We had a lively discussion of the issues raised in the article. My students—mostly sub-Saharan Africans for whom voting has a super-charged significance—are disturbed to learn about the Florida 2000 debacle and how over 57,000 voters (mostly black and Hispanic Democrats) were "accidentally" scrubbed from voter registers after being mistakenly labeled felons in state computers.

We debate whether the electronic machines are better than old-fashioned paper ballots. We brainstorm, make Venn diagrams, lists, clusters, review vocabulary words. Students share stories of voting in their native countries. Daniel, a cow herder from Sudan, explaines how members of the village simply break up into two lines and people vote by choosing which side to stand on. Kemil, a Kurd from Iraq, drolly comments how the lack of candidates on the ballot make it quite easy to choose a leader. We are warmed up, all the "pre" stuff has been done. Time to compose!

"Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better"
"OK everyone, take out some paper. Let's write about some of the things we've been talking about," I announce, in my best motivational speaker voice. I pick up a marker and scribble a few writing prompts on the board. When I turn around I see the looks of sour resignation spread across (most of) the faces in my class. You'd think I had invited them to a root canal party from their expressions! Undeterred, I do what I always do when it's time to write: I get in their faces and play the fool, charming and cajoling, recalling, jogging their work-tired minds, gently threatening and cheering on every attempt at meaning, every word, phrase, and sentence that they jot down.

"No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge"
When students are "blocked," I first try to get them talking about the issue. Then, while they are speaking, I write down their ideas, verbatim. This kind of dictation never fails to kick-start sluggish and timorous writers. Talima has already written a whole page and is anxious to show me the fruits of her thoughts. I approach her desk and ask her to read—I always have the author read his or her writing. I ask her if she wants me to correct anything and she nods vigorously. In thin pencil above a misspelled word, I write the correct spelling (I never cross out student writing). "What did you mean here?" I ask her about an unclear sentence. She explains it to me and I suggest an alternative way to express the same thought. She rewrites her sentence.

"Write what you want bottomless from the bottom of the mind"
Moi is busy scribbling into his journal—I take a peek at what he's writing and see it's some sort of folk tale involving a lion and a pack of motherless cows. Nothing to do with voting machines, alas. But let him write! I know enough not to inquire yet if he wants me to check—he'll let me know when he's good and ready. Over here, Kemil and Juma are chatting away in their own language. "Guys, you shouldn't be talking when your page in blank," I say. "We're talking about the writing," Kemil says with a wry smile. "Oh yeah?" Juma begins writing a few tentative words, then he erases them with a sigh. "What are you trying to say?" I ask. A torrent of ideas and opinions streams out, which I scribble onto his paper. "This is great stuff. Now copy this and write more, OK?" Kemil is copying the first sentence from the reading. "Kemil, what do you think about these new machines? Are they safe? Do you trust them?" Kemil makes a sour face, and waves his hand. "This is all lies," he says, and launches into one of his diatribes against political leaders of all stripes. Again, I copy what he says. "This is a good start. Please copy this and say more. You're onto something."

"Miss Linda! Miss Linda!" cries Mona, anxious to have me check her efforts. "How do you spell dishonest? Is this sentence right? Can you check?" I try to get her to figure out how to spell the word and self-correct. "This is a good sentence, Mona. But what do you mean here?"

"Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it"
The evening is nearly over. "OK everyone, please finish the sentence you are working on." I begin to, or rather, attempt to collect the fruits of my students' efforts. Moi and Talima are still writing. I feel like a criminal prying the paper from them, but I need to take it and run so I can catch the 9:30 from North Station. Later, at home, I will read over their writings, make minimal corrections (only for clarification of meaning, not surface errors), and word process it into one document. This is my and their favorite part: publishing class writing. No words can capture the students' pride and satisfaction when they see and read their writing in 12 point Times Roman. It is a tremendous motivator. Besides publishing student writing, I also use their writing to make assorted grammar, spelling, punctuation, and writing activities much more meaningful and relevant than any prefab ESL book could ever be.

"Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy"
On the last day of class, I hand out hardcover journals I picked up from Family Dollar. "Just because it's summer doesn't mean you should stop working on your writing," I tell them. "Do we have to write on every page and give it to you?" asks Mona with a look of concern. "No, no. This is your journal. You can write whatever you want" I say. But what I'd really like them to be is "composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better." You're a Genius all the time.

Linda Werbner is a Lynn-based writer who has been teaching and learning from her students for 10 years. She can be reached at: lwerbner@glss.net