Human beings have demonstrated Lhrough Lhe ages that the process of discovery and doing is lhe real curriculum of life. Man's experience with language is a good example. He has not only invented an infinite varicly of tongues but has devised various forms of expression for different purposes. These systems have served him both in his search for social and for individual identity.

Man, al first, used oral language lo express his feelings and thoughts in face lo face confrontations, or when he was within easy culling distance of the person or persons for whom his message was intended. Ingeniously, he appropri· ated many things for that purpose- paint, smoke, stone, shells, cave walls, sand, skin, bent twigs, various other plant purls, lo name a few. Ultimately he standardized this method and packaged his messages. He used specific marks or symbols lo represent certain words and ideas, and he used or invented and manufoclured lightweight, portable materials to record his communications. He found n practical or functional use for written language.

Sometimes he undoubtedly recorded ideas just for his own amusement, edification, therapy, or us a creative pastime. This was a more personal use of his writing skill. We have little evidence that these personal thoughts of early man were edited by anyone else until the modern anthropo· logist appeared on the scene. These ideas belonged lo the man who expressed them. They were his own thing. They were a part of his humanity.

The fact that man continued to use this second or personal form of writing through the ages is easily documented historically; that it has been a source of spiritual value and enjoyment is recorded in such recent journals as The Diary of Anne Frank.

A Case for a Red Balloon: An Essay on Personal Writing

Mary Reddin

But man is complex and he docs not always understand and consequently appreciate some of the gifts he has inherited. He seeks for relevance on his own terms, which he must <lo, and he sometimes diverts a good idea from the past to lesser purposes in the present. This would not be too had perhaps if he did not involve others, particularly Lhe young, in his flight down a cul-de-sac. The young have the ability lo give a good account of themselves if they have an unprejudiced hearing. Many American educators fell into such u trap early in the establishment of our public school system. They tried lo regulate and prescribe, for instance, the terms of personal writing.

Even today, despite a long history of evidence of the values of freedom of expression, many educators have mistakenly assumed they could and must "teach" this form and have prematurely imposed a mold dictating what the acceptable style for this activity would be. In some classrooms, topics for composilions have been arbitrarily assigned to children, often without prior communication with them concerning their inlerests or an investigation into their personal needs or potential. Other teachers permitted free choice of subject matter, but in each instance the finished product was scrutinized for errors in grammatical usage and spelling. Additionally, in spite of the promise in the second case for a chance to express one's own thoughts, social acceptability was measured. Generally, content was relegated to a secondary position, if acknowledged at all. Douglas1 aptly terms this form of pedantic criticism an exercise in "utilitarian calculus" and the act of a mere engineer of learning. Surely there is something more for both children and teachers.

Can a teacher in the elementary school who has been

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oriented lo this directive kind of teaching strategy re-estab­lish trust with children so they will indeed be free to search for their answers on their own terms through personal writing? From my own experience I would believe it.

There are several constructive moves she might make in this direction. These are merely suggestive and not inclu­sive.

First, strong voices from various countries of the world give testimony that the child's language is both the means and the medium of his growth, and that the teacher can turn to them for reassuring evidence. Her first efforts might be lo read the works of such writers us Chuikovsky2 of Russia; Bell,3 and more recently Marshull4 and Oixon5 of Enfland: Mearns,6 Burrows,7 Kohl,8 Joseph,9 and Doug· las 0 of the United States. They represent a growing number of teachers and psychologists who feel strongly that if language is lo be operational for the child, he must seek his own voice and be free to use and order it to his own purposes.

Next, she must certainly face the issue as to what the concepts of the real writing needs of her elementary school children are at the present time and for what purposes. Douglas1 1 suggests that frequently we as teachers arc operating from adult values and engage ourselves in " ... curious tasks such as requiring children to practice, when they are children, modes of discourse and forms of writing which in adult life most of them will have little occasion to experience, let alone use."

The third point, that of commitment, is perhaps one of the most difficult moves for this teacher to make. Shifting roles from that of a director and judge to that of an observer, acceptor, and resource group member is not as easy a change to contemplate as the shifts the teacher hns been asked to make in other curriculum areas during the past fifteen years. The new mathematics and science programs, for example, invite inquiry and logical reasoning on the part of the student, but some obvious structures arc usually provided by the teacher. In changing her approach to personal writing the teacher is being asked to be far more permissive. For example, both Kohl1 2 and Douglas1 3

suggest that teachers do not need lo make everything educational but rather search for "teachable moments." Nor should tl1ey feel impelled lo read everything that has been written. They will serve best if they listen with positive concern when the student asks them to. The reader who is invited lo shore these personal papers is privileged lo have a partial revelation of the child 's own world and has no right to tamper with it. Children have a need to become aware of their experience and true feelings through various

creative endeavors if self-trust is to be enhanced. Until this trust is established they will not be able lo believe in others, which will hinder their growth as human beings. Is there another reason for education?

I l seems to follow thut if a teacher can honestly permit such an accepting atmosphere of trust, many children will voluntarily share some of their writing and occasionally usk for criticism. This calls for an honest response, and the degree of criticism will depend upon the capabilities and development of the writer. 1 4 But growth in written expression does not occur in a vacuum. Children acquire their linguistic and thinking habits only through communi­cation with other humun beings. Children will grow in their ability lo evaluate their own work as the leucher provides enrichment with new words, new ideas, and new forms.

One of the richest sources of material for promoting this growth is a constant and daily barrage of good literature which is read orally by the teacher lo all children in the elementary grades from preschool groups through sixth grade. Tapes, records, television, and other media may supplement this story-sharing lime, but should never be allowed to replace the period when a child can ask questions, exchange ideas, and meditate with other human beings.

Another adjustment the teacher must make if she is to commit the group to the freer road to personal writing is to be willing to provide uncluttered time for the children lo think their own thoughts, for without this, the cause is lost. She must be accepting of the fact that each child works at an individual pace and that their writings will vary greatly one from the other.

Once the decision is made lo redirect the program, a final step might be for the teacher and the children to discuss the two forms of writing done by students in the elementary schools today, and to clearly specify their purposes. These purposes do not vary greatly from the ones our ancestors had for inventing them. The functional form is used for practical recording, such ns reports, letters, lists, speeches, and so on. The purpose is frequently for communicating with other people, so standardized forms for this more public form of writing might well be in order. These forms are best learned when the occ11Sions appropri· ate for their use are evident lo the student.

Personal writing remains a private affair, Kohl reports in his booklet, Teaching the Unteachable, 1 5 that there was no limit to the forms of writing that his children would experiment with after they 'tfere convinced that he only wanted to hear what they had to suy in their own voices from their own lives and imagination.

E11rly in my elementary school te11ching career I was forced to face some of these same issues. A series of episodes had led me to realize that as desperately as I had yearned to help my fourth graders write creatively, I had failed badly. The results of their weekly efforts were increasingly anemic and pedestrian. Nothing of the beauty of their spirits surfaced in their writing, and yet it sparkled in other projects 11nd in oral exchange. This was 11 personal def eat, for the are11 of English was part and parcel of what I held dear. It was a treasure I had confidently planned to use as a means of helping children shape their selfhood.

Strangely enough, in the field of painting, a world filled with perplexity and anxiety for me, the children were completely at ease. Almost daily there were many of them who chose lo express themselves through this art medium, whereas I was yet to experience any one of them voluntarily using his paper and pencil for expressing his thoughts. The thing I knew least about was, for many children, an opportunity for an imaginatively free expe­rience.

My mind was like a huge, revolving kaleidoscope in which none of the bits and pieces feel into a pattern. What had gone wrong? What a dichotomy! The thing I thought I knew the best resulted in total disaster. Even the expression on the children's faces changed when it was writing time. They became apathetic, furtive, frustrated.

All of these thoughts were with me one afternoon after the children had left school. I was sorting out the day's painting papers when suddenly three specific ones caught my eye. They were, I realized, an extension of a discussion which had taken place between several children during the morning activity program earlier in the day. As usual during such free time, some children chattered as they pursued their jobs, while others were quiet, completely absorbed in their projects. Suddenly, one of the silent boys swore when the bolt he was trying to use in his wood construction repeatedly slipped from his fingers. One of the girls pompously announced that Pete would not go to heaven if he used such language. Still preoccupied, Pete looked up and said, "Heaven? What's that?"

At least six different versions of the term were offered and a bitter argument ensued between two of the discus­sants. I joined the group and commented that apparently the word meant different things to different people and suggested that we further investigate the term and talk about our findings later in the week.

Jim and Earl, the two antagonists, apparently had proceeded to work off some of their spleen at the easels, for two of the paintings depicted St. Peter at heaven's gate.

A militant, Gargantuan figure of the saint standing before an impregnable fence dominated Jim's painting. He was interrogating a groveling, ant-sized supplicant who sought entry through a most forbidding gate.

Earl had his applicant arriving in a chariot drawn by gentle 11ngels. He was standing strong and tall and had a happy smile on his face. A band of people, obviously of high rank, were walking through the gate from a lush inner garden, and had welcoming arms outstretched to receive the new arrival. St. Peter was in the lead. Cherubic-like figures were flying overhead strewing flowers on all.

The third artist, Ada, had switched her painting paper to take advantage of the long side lines. Only two winged figures of children sailed through a softly clouded blue sky. One of these figures was a white child dressed in a soft green robe. The other child was brown, garbed in yellow. The latter was holding a string attached to a wide-checked red balloon. On the bottom of her painting Ada had scrawled:

Me in heaven. This respite from my earlier concerns revolving about

my dead-end writing program diverted me momentarily. However, I was continuously to return to my search for answers to this problem during the Call term.

The first breakthrough came in a Christmas gift from 11 friend. It w11s 11 copy of Meams'16 book, Creative Power: The Education of Youth in the Creative Arts. Hie portrait of the teacher who benumbed children by prescribing and judging their efforts mirrored my position concerning the writing activities of the students in my class.

Suddenly there was so much to do and so many ideas to try. Not everything could be accomplished at once. I made the decision to attack the personal writing problem and set about outlining my strategy for the post-New Year term, based on freeing children from the burden of spelling, grammar, and personal criticism. I felt that those needs could be met in other ways. The muddle which had characterized the first semester had to be undone and when the school session commenced, the children and I had several talks 11bout the kinds of writing they needed to have specific help in for communication purposes. Then we talked about the new plan for them to keep personal writing journals which were to be strictly private affairs. The only sharing of this material would be at their own discretion.

The program moved slowly at first, for the complete change from a climate paralyzed by the act of over-teaching and policing, to that of a climate of respect for each writer's unique style and ideas, seemed unbelievable to the

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children. I was ready lo accept the fact that not everyone would have a literary voice, although I had secrct.ly believed I could develop one in each child under my previous tutelage. But I was pleased with the number of children who were willing lo write on their own terms by the Easler season. They were actually beginning lo seek time lo work in their journals as they had before been self-motivated to paint. Several children began lo share their efforts, and us these lest cases truly had respectful listeners as an audience, rather than a single teacher-judge, others look heart and gradually asked for sharing time.

The day I knew I was fully justified in my decision to reverse my leaching stance in the urea of personal writing was when Ada added u postscript lo a paper she asked me to read for my pleasure.

P.S. I said it once. I say it again. HEAVENS A RED BALUNE! And so's this kind of jurnel. HIP! HIP! HIP! HOORAY!

Today there is much talk of individualized learning and humanism in educational circles. Like personal writing, these arc both old ideas lucked in our inheritance kit which man has on occasion misused or mislaid. If a child is introduced lo these gifts curly in life, he can use them as avenues to order his own world and to commune with others. He can through creative effort on his part come to be in charge of his own life and to make his own decisions. But he needs our support in permitting such growth. He rarely can make it alone.

I.Douglas, Wallace W., from Engli~h for the Junior Higla Yeari, edited by Stephen Dunning, National Council for Teacheni of English: Champaign, Illinois, 1969. Three articles by Douglas:

The Nature and Present Slate of Composition, 15-32 On Value in Children's Writing, 33-62 Some Practical Suggestions, 63-78

2.Chuikovsky, Komei, translated and edited by Miriam Morton, From Two io Five, University of California Press: Berkeley, 1968.

3.Bclls, Vicar, On Learning THE ENGLISH TONGUE, Faber and Faber: London, mcmliii.

4.Marshall, Sybil, An Experiment in Education, Univel'$ity Press: Cambridge, England, 1963.

5. Dixon, John, Growtla Tlirougl1 Engli1l1, National Association for the Teaching of English: Reading, England, 1967.

6.l\leams, Hughes, Creative Power: Tlae Education of Youtla in tl1e Creative Art1, Dover Publications, Inc.,: New York, 1929.

7. Burrows, Alvina, et al., Tlaey All Want lo Write, Prentice-Hall, Inc.: Englewood Cliffs, N.J ., 1955.

B. Kohl, Herberl R., Teac/1ing the " Unteaclaable ", The New York Review: New York, 1967.

9.joscph, slephcm m., edited by, Ille me nobody know~: children's 11oice1 from tlae g/JeUo, Avon, A Discus Book: New York, I 969.

10. Douglas, op. cit. 11. Douglas, op. cit. 12. Koh~ op. cit. 13. Douglas, op. cit. 14.Douglas, op. cit. 15. Kohl, op. cit. 16.Mcams, op. cit.

Mary Reddin is Associate Professor of Education in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction, College of Education, University of Hawaii. Sl1e holds a B.A. in Early Childhood Education from National College of Education, an M.A. in Human Development from Northwestern, and an Ed.D. in Elementary Education from Indiana University.