"Your sentences are hopeless [and so are you!]"

When I first encountered this I couldn't help but laugh, considering it seemed so preposterous. And really, it is. What writing teacher would leave that kind of a comment on a student’s draft, however hopeless?

But what if my sentences are hopeless? Aren’t we doing our students (and ourselves) a disservice by not telling them the truth about their writing? Certainly we don’t have to be brutally honest with them, only with ourselves, but sometimes in order to get honest with ourselves, we need others to get honest with us.

Too often, we are oh so willing to offer the helping hand of hope, only to have it left hanging. You see, it is my experience that, unless one is really ready to receive it – i.e., unless one is truly hopeless, such altruistic gestures usually get rebuffed; on the other hand (hee hee), paradoxically, once one admits to hopelessness, there is hope.

As a first semester college student at El Camino (Fall 0f ’87) I took (false) pride in my writing. I’d enrolled in an honors history class in which all of the students were evaluated à la periodic written exams via Blue Books, and because this was an honors class, I naturally assumed that my writing was honorable. Since I was able to demonstrate an apparent mastery of the material, I received all "As" on these exams, including the final; in fact, despite its deplorableness (is that a word?), I even received an “A” on my term paper, but only because the professor undoubtedly considered my poor performance a fluke and didn’t want this to adversely affect my final grade. “A” paper in hand, I proudly offered it to my (extremely well-educated) father who was clearly disappointed and left me hanging (though he was not surprised that it was so poorly written, he was surprised that I got an “A,” and, knowing my father, I’m surprised he didn’t confront the professor!).

Of course, I figured an “A’s” an “A,” and whether he liked it or not, I was satisfied. Eventually, I dropped out of school to work and to pursue less academic, more epicurean interests (sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll, baby!). It was only when I decided nearly a decade later to resume my studies that I discovered my writing required some serious remediation.

Perhaps if that professor had told me the truth (about my writing), I might have stayed in school, but probably not. You see, we all need to experience our own hopelessness before we can be given someone else’s hope, and it all begins (and ends) with honesty, particularly with ourselves. For if we can’t be honest with ourselves, how can we be honest with others?

“Honesty is such a lonely word.

Everyone is so untrue.

Honesty is hardly ever heard.

And mostly what I need from you.”

~Billy Joel.