
In January of last year I began a nonfiction-writing residency at a high school, here in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn. At an early point during the residency as a teaching artist, I asked my students to explore a memory. What I meant essentially, when I asked for an exploration, when I asked the students to use or employ their memories, a flash of a memory, a blink or spark from the corridors behind their collective eyes, was supposed to be rather simple. Pick or choose a moment within an event and use that moment like a flash card. Put that moment to work as a piece of a scaffold or, as a bone in the structure of a larger narrative.
From the onset of the residency, my goal was to have the students produce a collection of nonfiction pieces for our year-end anthology. The idea was to transform a memory from a fact or group of facts into a central thread in a narrative. I gave them an example, from my own days in high school, from an exceptionally different or perhaps foreign landscape.
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