I can’t say it enough: Writing is a practice in vulnerability. I regret that I didn’t fully appreciate this sooner. As an elementary teacher, I tried to create a safe place for my students to write, but curricular demands required that we write particular things at particular times at a particular pace. As a university professor, I started with a mentality that my students “should know how to do this by now.” It took years for me to realize that they needed scaffolding and a safe place as much as the children did. Working with teachers as an instructional coach, I didn’t need to see their writing, but what could be more vulnerable that letting someone into the sacred space of your classroom?
I write so that I experience vulnerability. I put words on paper that I might regret later. I share my stories with people who might reject them. Vulnerability is a high threshold habit; the effort and the payoff are both significant. I hope that because I am a writer, I have more empathy for the racing heart and sweaty armpits of the people I request vulnerability from. To my students past (and probably future), I hope you’ll forgive me for the times that I wasn’t.