BY EDISON MARTE SICAD
“IN AN exam, students seldom write to express their thoughts; they mostly write to impress their teachers.”
Supposedly, the beauty of writing (or the power of articulation) is in the realization that your writing matters. It matters to you because the ideas you are sharing have a personal meaning.
Ideally, the art of writing must be anchored on authenticity and creativity. The uniqueness in expression is encouraged by heartfelt attention not by assessment with (academic) coercion.
Fundamentally, a student’s inspiration in writing comes from his personal conviction that he can contribute something; as an answer to the question (in the Dead Poets Society movie) of John Keating: “If the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse, what will your verse be?”
What I am trying to point out here is to relate a classroom writing activity with social contribution and accountability. Writing then is not only a component of literacy but also an endeavor for advocacy.
And this requires a deep awareness of social issues and a high regard to intellectual integrity. The phenomenon of Fake News seems to thrive due to the social media platforms that give a person anonymity and scalable accessibility. The appreciation and participation in intellectual discourse can also be discouraged by Cancel Culture. And the youth of today are immersed in image-building that leads to superficiality, confusion, or mental depression. With the reckless use of gadgets, students are now living in what sociologist Jean Baudrillard coined as hyperreality: the distinction between what is real and what is fiction is blurred by the onslaught of “technological” activities.
In other words, our students aim for Identity by Social Recognition. The challenge (or the opportunity) now is for the teacher to have writing activities to facilitate character formation.
But as always, it is easier said than done. When freedom is handed to those who do not deserve it, mediocrity by conformity is celebrated as a systemic practice. What I mean is that despite being citizens of a democratic society, we consider our cognitive bias as freedom of expression.
When people—or public officials—respond to criticism by retaliation, then freedom of expression is nothing but a lip service (pun intended). We hear it spoken as a sacred obligation, and we see it violated as matter-of-factly.
Also, I am trying to emphasize the relevance of writing as a political tool in shaping and reshaping society, as well as question some writing practices that had become a copy-paste habit or a mere regurgitation of what the teacher had said or believed to be true. In short, the alienation (in line with Karl Marx) of the writer from his writings.
For we write not only for acceptance and recognition. Again, writing is not just a component for literacy; it is our weapon for advocacy: a weapon that can be used to serve and protect; a weapon that can be utilized to rally for a cause or sow division. Indeed, we write to get a glimpse of the elusive truth. And the truth hurts. And to the kapal-muks to be onion-skinned about it:
“Bato-bato sa langit,
pag tama ‘wag naman magalit.
Kung serbisyo ang pag-uusapan,
Katotohanan lang ang sakalam.”
In a democratic society, politics is integral not only with your right to freely speak your mind, but also with your safety to utter your words. Of course, we all know that such freedom is essentially coupled with responsibility: to speak with sincerity AND accountability. It is in the exchange of ideas that informed decisions strengthen civic duties. But if the expression of ideas—or criticisms for that matter—cannot be protected by the very institution that enshrined such freedom, then all is lost.
But there is hope. I believe that schools and universities are the sanctuaries of our democratic ideals. As teachers espouse the necessity of innovation to strengthen the value of tradition, students are given the freedom to contribute their own “verse” for the continuance of this “powerful play.” For we all have a thing or two to say, not just for the sake of argument but for the sake of the government. As Tallentyre aptly put it, “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”
Civic consciousness then is to critique the government and at the same time decide as to what we can do to make things better. For if the consequence of education is to hate the government, then we are teaching in the wrong way. For we teach not to divide, but to synergize (as Stephen Covey would say).
This is then not so much about how our politicians behave. This is about us; the common tao; the sovereign: where political power fundamentally resides; where, also, the responsibility is. My overall take is that education—or learning for that matter—is power on its own. In short, we, the teachers, have the power to make or break this nation.
And in our own small way, such power lies in giving our students the voice of assent or dissent. And such voice, I hope, will be guided by teachers for the common good. Then maybe, we can dare say, the Pen is truly mightier than the Sword.
IN CLOSING, the idea of writing as a self-authoring (as Jordan Peterson puts it) activity can facilitate character formation. In fact, with the guidance of the teacher, writing can instill responsibility. Not in the sense that it’s a panacea, but somehow, there is a personal engagement towards social issues that can lead constructively to what C. Wright Mills called The Sociological Imagination: that our individual rights are complemented with social responsibilities.
May we see writing in this way. In the same way that Rizal wrote the Noli and Fili, among others, may we appreciate that writing can also be emancipatory. That through the power of our ideas and nobility of our intentions, we inspire people to lead by example and express our opinion not only as a matter of right, but more importantly, as freedom with responsibility./PN
