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A Clack of Tiny SparksCooper, BernardHarper's Magazine; Jan 1991; 282, 1688; ProQuest Research Librarypg. 64

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.

February  11,  2016    A  note  regarding  Jordan  Buff’s  essay:    Jordan  wrote  this  essay  during  the  spring  semester  of  his  first  year  at  Loyola  University  Maryland  for  my  course,  “Effective  Writing,”  the  required  writing  course.    It  was  also  my  first  year  teaching  at  Loyola.    Their  first  essay  was  a  “personal  narrative,”  and  Jordan  came  up  to  me  after  the  class  in  which  I  had  introduced  the  assignment.    “Professor,”  he  said,  “I  think  I  know  what  I  want  to  write  about.    But  I  don’t  want  to  peer  workshop  it.    You  may  be  able  to  figure  out  what  it  is.”    In  that  moment  it  really  didn’t  matter  if  I  could  surmise  the  topic  or  not.    It  mattered  that  he  received  approval  to  write  the  essay—not  for  an  audience  but  for  himself.      “Sure.”  I  said.  “Of  course—we  can  figure  something  else  out  for  peer  review,  and  I’ll  be  discrete  about  it.”    This  is  the  essay  that  Jordan  wrote.    This  is  the  first  draft  of  the  essay  that  Jordan  wrote.    Typically,  I  require  significant  revision  on  all  essays  by  the  end  of  the  semester.    But  when  we  met  to  talk  about  the  essay,  after  he  sat  in  my  office  for  an  hour  and  we  talked  about  his  experiences  growing  up,  I  told  Jordan  he  didn’t  have  to  revise.    I  told  him  he  may  not  be  able  to  revise  right  away—or  maybe  ever—and  that  there  were  no  expectations.    Please,  therefore,  excuse  the  occasional  grammar  or  proofreading  mistake.        Three  years  later,  I  saw  Jordan  on  campus.    I  knew  he  was  graduating,  and  I  asked  him  to  go  on  a  walk  with  me.    I  told  him  how  important  his  essay  and  his  conversation  with  me  in  my  office  was  to  my  own  parenting  (when  he  took  my  class  Carmine  was  three  and  Hildegard  was  one).    And  Jordan  told  me  that  this  was  the  essay  he  used  to  reveal  his  sexuality  to  his  family  and  friends.    When  he  was  afraid  and  the  words  caught  in  his  throat,  he’d  simply  look  down  at  his  paper  and  read  it  verbatim.    I  asked  Jordan  if  I  could  share  his  essay  with  the  St.  Anne’s  school  community,  and  this  is  what  he  wrote:      I would be honored if you were to share my essay and my experience with the families at your children's elementary school. Please, feel free to share my name in the story. I think that redacting the name would obfuscate the honesty I tried to include.  Thank  you  for  opening  your  heart  and  spirit  to  what  Jordan  shares.  

       

Lisa  Zimmerelli  Parent,  with  John  Zimmerelli,    to  Carmine  (3rd),  Hildie  (1st),  and  Roberta  (Preschool)  Chair,  Board  of  Trustees  Social  Justice  Committee