learning from experience
Perhaps the greatest risks can lead to the greatest discoveries. Towards the end of my placement, my ST suggested that I could get some more writing out of my students by setting a ‘stream of consciousness’ writing activity. At first I was a bit taken aback by this. Surely, if I had stumbled through poetry and waded through communicational quagmires with Holes then in doing something so utterly dependent on students own initiative could only end up bogged down, even if my intent was crystal clear. My ST urged me to have confidence in myself, “They’re asking if you can stay, that means they like you. You can do it!” I decided to give it a try, and so I prepared some music, some posters, and got ready to trial this approach.
I set an environment of trust and confidentiality- “the writing is only for me and you can write anything that comes into your head”. I established the boundaries of the writing- “that is, there are no rules except that you must keep writing”. Each stream of consciousness went for ten minutes. The first was how you feel in you favourite place. What does it smell, touch, feel, smell, sound like? The second was in response to posters I put on the wall. The final was in response to a piece of music that was created as an ‘aural soundscape’ by a Melbourne band called B(if)tek. I played ambient music throughout the lesson, and handed out fresh pieces of paper per writing piece. The students were surprisingly engaged by this. I say ‘surprisingly’ as they were not fidgeting or talking to each other, which was common behaviour if they were given half a chance.
Later on, reading the writing, I was even more surprised. I had glimpses into students’ minds and lives that I had not seen before. Shewitt wrote about lack of trust:
 Shewitt stream of con Carmel* wrote about death:  Carmel Others wrote that they disliked the music; Thoughts, or just put words down in an associative (rather than constructed) way: Association 1, Association 2. Some of the things revealed were very personal, and I think that had I just asked the students to write something straight-out, as say, a descriptive or narrative piece, that they would not have produced such honest work. They wrote from their hearts, and everything that was written was worthwhile, as they were giving a voice to their innermost thoughts. Writing as a ‘journey’ if you like, rather than as a ‘destination’
 A detour: Detour
Like our students, we must write to reveal our innermost thoughts too. I attended a lecture by a visiting Canadian academic, Merrill Swain, about the ‘Role of Collaborative Dialogue in Second Language Learning’. What she had to say was very pertinent to writing, as she theorizes that we need to collaborate (with a second person) for language to develop and learning to take place. Most importantly, she also underscored that this collaboration need not be with another person, but can take the form of self-talk too (the ‘private speech’ that we all engage in with ourselves). Thus, not only for our students, but for us as professional pedagogues it is critical that we engage in writing for intent as well. Merrill said “How do I know what I think until I hear what I said?” but I think it could also be said “How do I know what I think until I read what I wrote?” Parr and Bellis argue a similar case; that we must not only output but critically question our own approaches and the assumptions of our vocation (Parr & Bellis 2005). The best way, the way that is the least ephemeral and gives us the greatest chance of self-reflection, is through writing.
If we must traverse common English roads it must be with eyes wide open and questioning the paths we have taken and the ‘vehicles’ we have chosen for our transport. Bulfin point out that negotiating this dialogue with colleagues is difficult, and many barriers exist not only in the travaille of day-to-day existence, but in creating ‘authentic’ discussions with other professionals. (Bulfin 2005) I, too, find it difficult to create these spaces but I can see the need to develop habits in these areas to override my natural sloth and ineptitude at keeping in touch. I can paraphrase (badly) from Frost, when I posit that the road less taken is often the more difficult, challenging or rewarding path.
The Road Not Taken As educators it is this ‘Road Not Taken’ that we must investigate, along with all the other easier and well-trodden ways. Like all good forays into nature, such venturing should not be done alone, but with other companions in an explorative frame of mind.
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