Slice of Life 2026: 27 of 31- Safe Space

 In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

Over the last several weeks, I have gotten to teach a writing class at the high school, and I've gotten to do it in partnership with my book's co-author. A grant is paying for the class, and I'm not sure how students found out about it... bottom line is we have three to five kids each week, and they are... awesome. We have not taught much because mostly, these kids have just wanted to write. We've brought good food. Appealing notebooks. Fun pens. Responsive mentor texts. And ideas for them to try stemming from what they shared. 

Next week is the school's equity week, and we asked the students to work on something they might want to share. L. had a piece ready to go about the challenges of being an American-born Chinese person. S. had been working on a piece about her name which she has shortened when she's at school because it's hard to pronounce, but at home, she is still her name. She's developed her work into a poem about what's lost by fitting in. 

Yesterday, three of the writers were on a roll and ready to go-- in that just-let-us-write state of being. When we asked if they needed anything in the way of support from us, they were very clear: no. 

But, E. was stuck. She's a kid who has moved a lot, and she loved and related to Yard Sale by Eve Bunting. Maggie and I huddled with E. to hear about how it was going, what she was thinking, and how we could support her. 

"I'm not liking the words in it, and how my piece is sounding," she said. "Do you think I could do something with animation to tell my story?"

We had said to the kids early on that our answer would almost always be yes. 

"Yes," we said. 

And then she went on to describe what she was thinking. She had a vision, and she wanted to share parts of her life both with avatars and images. Would that be okay. 

"Yes," we said. 

I wish I could remember exactly how she said that she wanted to include being gay in her piece. When she shared this part of her identity, there was a nervous laugh or hitch or something that I can't quite name. I pointed to Maggie. 

"Me too," Maggie said. "I have a wife and a house and two sons..." She went on, reflecting on what it would have been like for her in her life if she had been confident enough to come out in high school. And I could sit and watch E.'s body language change from nervousness to total comfort. 

It's a moment that I wish I could read others' perspectives about, and who knows? Maybe I can one day. For the time being, it was incredible for me to watch the power of having a young person's identity reflected back to them.