Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Life Is Like an Essay

Life is like the five paragraph essay that I teach in class. I tell my students that their audience will always remember the introduction and the conclusion, so they need to start off strongly and end their essay just as powerfully. And like life, you will be remembered most by how you came into this world and how you leave it.

The introduction is birth: people will remember how you hooked them with your cuteness, your baby feet, and your little fingers. Everyone will start to make plans and dream big things for you. Their goal and their hope is that your life will be free of troubles and imperfections. You didn't define how or what your life would be like. Instead, other people have defined it for you.

The three body paragraphs are benchmarks of life: childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. They are the parts of your life that you struggle with--the construction of your foundation and beliefs, the development of your identity, the improvement and expansion of your independence. Nothing will be perfect as you try to organize these parts of your life. As you rewrite your paragraphs, you keep asking yourself about your goals. Are you struggling to support your own thesis or someone else's? Whatever you decide, this section is where most of the revision takes place. You're never sure if you got it down or not.

Then there is the conclusion. Everyone fumbles over the conclusion. Do we summarize everything we already mentioned in the essay? Do we repeat our main points? How do we close and end gracefully and thoughtfully? What do we want our audience to remember most? What do we want our loved ones to remember of us? The conclusion is accidental, like most of life itself. Sometimes we can end that essay with grace and wit, and everyone will remember the perfection of it that they will forget the errors of your life and forgive you for your faults. But death is unexpected, so that concluding paragraph does not always come out as you had planned. The conclusion's short and abrupt ending does not give the audience the closure that they seek, so it leaves them confused and puzzled.

As they search for answers, they will reread the conclusion and maybe the entire essay all over again, combing over the stages of your life and criticizing your imperfections. They will ask themselves, "What was the thesis in the first place?" and then reread the introduction. They will realize that you never really had one... not your own, anyway.

A conclusion that doesn't give closure, body paragraphs that are not organized, and an introduction that never defines who you are make a weak essay. And that's all you will be remembered for. The conclusion can be that exclamation point that gets everyone to applaud and leave the auditorium with echoes of your accolades, or it can be the ellipsis that confuses everyone to silently boo you off the stage with their disappointment.

No matter how hard you tried or worked on your essay, that conclusion will be the defining paragraph that sings your praises or negates your life.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Guilt and Death

A student of mine passed away this weekend. I hate emotional moments like this, when I'm taken by surprise. Of course, that's what happens when Death pays a visit. He is an uninvited guest that people hope would leave.

I took a moment away from the students in the morning, but I couldn't stay away from the class that knew her. The grief counselors came in, but none of the kids wanted to talk to them. Although the counselors suggested that I take the afternoon off, part of me just felt it wasn't right to leave the students alone with strangers either. After the counselors left, the students opened up a little; apparently, they didn't want to talk to them. The students wanted to talk amongst themselves. They wanted to remember their friend with laughter and funny stories, not with cries and tears, like the counselors expected them to. They even got me to talk about it. It helped a little to talk about it in a happy way rather than with sadness.

I did leave school early, but I didn't want to go home right away either. When it comes to grief, I'd rather just bury myself in work so I won't think about it. I felt guilty for some reason, like I didn't have the right to go about my normal day. I went to the bank and did some laundry when I got home, but the whole time, I kept thinking of my student.

Some people will say that burying yourself in work or denying that death happened is not how to handle grief, but who cares? Doesn't everyone handle their grief in their own way? I dislike it most when people try to analyze it and try to rationalize what I feel. When I want to remember my student in my own way, and someone tells me that there are five stages of grief, do I really care what stage I'm in? I do know that I'll get through this, and so will my kids... I guess I just really hate grieving in public.

I feel selfish now. I can't stay home tomorrow because I need my work to give me a sense of normalcy and routine; yet at the same time, I don't want to be around people. I feel guilty if stay home, and I feel guilty if I'm not there for my kids either.