A priceless moment

At our last session, we showed this year’s class at Stardale the film we made last year, The Road. Most of the girls had seen it, some had actually contributed to the script and acted in the film. It was a good reminder for all us to see it again as we work on developing the script for this year’s effort which will be a companion piece to The Road. The theme of this year’s film is racism, and how it has impacted the young lives of the girls in the program.

I am always delighted when some of the girls, at least, come up with some good writing that I can build a script from. I know from last year’s experience that a few of them, usually the older ones, will come through with some good material. Others won’t, for a myriad of reasons. Some of the girls live with a lot of distractions in their lives – not good ones, either. I know they are going through a lot. It’s not for me to judge them. If anything I admire the courage they demonstrate as they grow up without any of the supports or opportunities that many of us take for granted.

On Wednesday, one young girl (thirteen years old) approached me and said she had written something for me. I was surprised as she was with us last year and I don’t remember her contributing any writing in the past. She handed me two filing cards. The top one showed a stylized drawing of a girl, otherwise, the cards were filled with text.

The text was printed – in fact, it was printed perfectly, almost resembling a font. There were no words crossed out, there were no spelling mistakes and her sentence structure was perfect, even elegant. She even knows the difference between it’s and its, which a lot of university-level students don’t know and, alas, may never know.

Don’t take my word for it. Here is her first paragraph. She begins by explaining the drawing of the girl she has done on the card:

It’s a drawing of a sad, lonely girl. She has divorced parents and she has been abused since she was a child. She has marks all over her body that she won’t even show her mother. Sometimes the marks are from her or from other people. She’s sweet on the outside but hurting on the inside. Her name is Shadow.

I have taught creative writing all over the world in a variety of settings and situations for some forty years. I am certain that I have never read such a well-written or impactful paragraph before. This brought a tear to my eye and sent a shiver up my spine. It’s that good. If it was the first paragraph of a book you bought or checked out of the library, would you be surprised? I don’t think so. If anything, you would want to keep on reading.

The author as I mentioned is thirteen years old. A little investigation indicates that she performs poorly at school, forever labeled with the pedagogical challenge of the day, forever destined for that “special” class where they deal with the kids with “special” needs. But what I think I’m looking at here is special in a whole other way.  I think I am reading an offering by an incredibly gifted child who despite having been shown very little support in her young life is still able to write as well as this.

I centred this girl out at the end of our session last week, of course in a good way. I thanked her and said she had written one of the best things I have ever read, from university level on down. She had the look on her face that we see when we compliment one of our girls who has possibly never been given a compliment – ever – in her entire life.

It was a priceless moment.