It was our first publishing event and when the whirlwind of set up finally settled, I began to look about the room and notice what happens within the nooks and crannies of an experience like this one. What I noticed I think was something necessary. In the quiet of the classroom, where students wore masks and kept themselves at a distance, there were humans connecting with other humans. They connected in the room with reading and writing, in ways that maybe only quiet can bring into light. These young writers connected with one another with small pieces of colored paper―notes left for the authors.
I don’t really know if there could be anything much more powerful than moments like these in a classroom.
“I’m sorry about your sister…”
“I loved your story… it made me laugh…”
“I hope you didn’t have anything else that is bad.”
“Your story made me sad. But I loved it…”
If there were a way to see what healing looks like, I’m sure it was then that it happened.