My title of this piece references more the Gene Autry lyrics than the Aerosmith ones. Nonetheless, the sentiment remains the same - I've gone back to my roots to do something that makes me happy and fulfilled and useful - I'm teaching.
I volunteered to teach a class in Journaling for a local Senior Center. It's only one hour a week, but those 60 minutes make me feel alive. The course encourages people to write down their thoughts on any subject they desire. Unlike a diary, a journal does not "require" daily entries; it is not a dated list of activities or intentions.
I tell my students, "Journaling is like talking to yourself but on paper. it's where you can get thoughts you're unable to say aloud out of your head. It's the place where after you read what you've written, you gasp and immediately destroy those pages as the words sounded much worse than when you just thought them. On the other hand, reading what you wrote might gel those thoughts to the point where you could really share them with an intended audience or person. There's no pressure in this class. I don't call on anyone or give grades. I don't comment on grammar or structure. I don't give length or word requirements. I offer opportunities to those words filling your brain to travel down your arm onto paper."
Journaling is not an easy skill for some. People who rarely voice opinions or those who who seldom deal in the fanciful, impracticalities of life are generally rather hesitant to write down their reactions to prompts such as their favorite birthday, the one food they consider inedible that others enjoy, the worst dessert ever, a time they needed to scream or cry but couldn't, a time you got away with something or name 5 dead people you'd like to invite to a dinner party at your home.
I give the students time in class to write on an impromptu topic, then ask if anyone wants to share.
In response to "Finish the sentence, 'I am happy…'" one student wrote about a creek she and a childhood friend used to enjoy. She got so emotional sharing her memories that she had to pause to gather herself. (I instantly put tissues on my list for the next class.) When asked about her friend she shared the fact that they hadn't communicated in quite a while and the friend's family no longer owned the creek property; regardless, she decided to send her paper to the friend to share the memories.
Getting students to look outside the boxes they are in and consider life from different angles made my work days a joy for more than 40 years. I've found the same tenet applies to this new adventure. I'm not really teaching right now, so much as encouraging my new class to peek into themselves and see what they find.
I am happiest when I'm helping others discover.
