The Spirit Within Writing
Writing theory is marked by varied approaches, from “correctness” to “social constructivism” to “personal growth.” Each approach is developed, and all have their differences; however, they do not always stand alone. Often, in practice, we find that writing concepts are interconnected. Understanding “Spirit” in the Writing Center, an article by Lynn Briggs, presents a fine example of the ways in which the weaving of theories can occur.

Briggs opens her article by saying what she doesn’t mean. She states has no intention of addressing the broader issues of writing centers or the larger use of the “spirit” within them. Instead, Briggs says, she will synthesize the founding ideas of spiritual writing and her own experience with it. To start with, Briggs makes the connection between writing and self by noting its close ties with learning and development. She supports this theory by saying, “Many […] spiritual writers see education, growth, and learning as essential tasks for the spirit.” Her inclusion of a variety of descriptions of “spirit” from writing experts solidifies this idea.

Briggs continues this train of thought by clarifying her own definition of the term “spirit.” She means “spirit” not in a religious or ideological way, but in terms of a higher understanding of self and the world. In her words, it is an “awareness of the patterns of sense.” She says that to understand life in a beneficial way, people must feel the connections between themselves, each others, and universal forces. Briggs also notes that the realization of these links can be transformative.

This seems to be the main point of her article, and in my opinion, a good one. Often, writers come into writing centers because they have been scarred or damaged in some way by the trials of life. These “wounds,” as Briggs says, can hinder the learning process. When looking at this issue from a spiritual perspective, the goal of the writing center is to help that person heal themselves. For many, writing is a very personal process, and we often find that real life intersects with what we write. For good or bad, our lives have an effect on our words. Ours trials lead to insecurities in ourselves, and namely, in our writing. We begin to think of ourselves as poor writers. Isn’t that why we qualify ourselves before sharing a piece of writing? Aren’t we afraid of what others will think?

As tutors or teachers, don’t we strive to help students become better writers, to help them evolve through the process of writing? In a sense, any writing process is revolutionary: whether from a stylistic or grammatical viewpoint. While, as tutors, we are told not the change a writer’s style, isn’t it important to help them develop it? Briggs address this idea when she says, “Writers bring work they have created into a setting where they plan to encounter someone and change themselves.” While this change may be a textual one, it can, in Briggs’ mind, occur on a larger scale. And, as a teacher or tutor, it’s our job to facilitate that change.

Briggs takes this idea a step further by relating an experience she once had in a writing center, focusing on the changes that both she and the tutee underwent throughout the session. Briggs claims that she is normally a problem-focused tutor. In other words, she believed that “in order to solve problems […] [she] had to focus on them, help the writer dissect them, study them.” However, in this session, she found herself taking another, unexpected approach. She started out by having the student read the paper, and noticed that student’s tone of voice wasn’t as expressive as the words in the paper indicated it should be. Briggs asked the tutee about this, and she revealed her frustrations toward the experience that she was writing about: something she didn’t think she was allowed to include in her paper. Briggs used this idea to continue to lengthy, very revealing discussion with the student, presenting questions, until she found the “right” one. The student’s answer led to an idea that reshaped the paper.

Briggs says that both the tutee and tutor’s willingness to listen and openness to ideas led not only to a change in the paper but to a change in their relationship. They became comfortable with each others, and Briggs’ shift in tactics during the session led to a shift in mood on part of the tutee. She tells us that her tutee, “could then write not out of anger and frustration, but out of benevolent understanding for her audience and subject.” In my opinion, that is one of largest components of a successful writing session: relation and development, or, as Briggs puts it, “a sense of connection, and mutual growth.”

Briggs’ experience underscores not only importance of adjusting strategies to suit different students and goals, but also warrants us to pay close attention to the attitudes we take into a tutoring session: something we discussed a bit in class. Our actions have an effect on the actions of student. Body language, tone, and word choice are all something we should consider when sitting down with a tutee because even the slightest inclination of annoyance or anger could result in an unsatisfactory session. If we’re aiming to help the student, the last thing we want to do is hinder them even further.

Lynn Briggs’ article indirectly addresses many things that we should all keep in mind when it comes to tutoring. And even if one is inclined not to follow Briggs’ advice to allow for a “spiritual perspective,” in writing pedagogy, the power of the social dimension of the “spirit” cannot be denied. After all, couldn’t be all use a little more of it, not only in our writing, but in our lives?