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Dear Anne, Barb and Jody,

First off, let me thank you. I meant what I said at our final class that you all were instrumental in making this process what it was. I couldn’t have taken the leap without your scaffolding and support. 

It was fortunate stroke of serendipity that led to me to this 360. As we wrap up now, I can see that the trajectory I'm on (which, appropriately, started with ESem) has completely transformed the way I think about the world. My social awareness, and the impetus I have to do something with this newfound knowledge, were fostered, and tested, during our semester together. I am constantly amazed by how lucky I am to have had such an opportunity, and to have had the faith and guidance from others necessary to bring me through it. This 360 is the riskiest thing I've ever done at Bryn Mawr, but also the best. Everything has changed now, and I can't wait to see what's coming next. 

Participation

When I think about my (verbal) participation across each class, I’m hit with a constant disappointment. Silence class was where I felt this this most.  Looking back at my second web post was especially hard. I was quick to blame my classmates for contributing to my silence, but I think my accusations may have been unfounded. Although since that time I’ve witnessed vast improvements in our class’s ability to pause and listen, I’m not sure if my speaking increased in any visible way.  It is important for you all to know that this is something that goes through my head during every class, without exception. I am constantly aware of myself and my place in the conversation because as Tompkins states “talking is the stock of academic life” and I feel as though I’m missing out on a code by not asserting my participation in the traditional, verbal way. As a result of this perpetual consciousness and the resulting self-reflection, I have discovered that I am more at ease speaking in the large group during Vision and Voice class. Although admittedly this is something I still worry about, I take comfort in Jane Tompkin’s ability to explain my feelings through her own experience with talking in class: “to perform to survive essentially is backbreaking work; to give up the burden of performance, an inexpressible relief”.  As exhaustingly heavy as I already found our 360, focusing on listening and taking in new, unique perspectives which served to push my thinking provided the same inexpressible relief from the constant pressure to speak.

Chandrea, in one of our many conversations on talking in class, has told me that I may not be the student who speaks the most often in class, but that what I do say carries a certain weight – not because it is uncommon that I speak but rather because what I say has a lot of thought behind it. This mirrors how I think about my own participation in terms of the thought and contemplation behind each word. This is where I see myself contributing to my classmates’ learning. The emotion of surprise is a powerful one in that it typically indicates that assumptions are being pushed or broken. I saw myself doing that as I shared parts of my background that conflict with assumptions many placed on me. Although many of these moments occurred outside of class on our Serendip forum or in person, they also had a place in Vision. My ability to help others expand their thresholds of understanding took the form of my attempts to play devil’s advocate during the beginning of the course and push back on particularly controversial topics such as the right to vote for incarcerated people. While I may or may not have personally agreed with my statements, they did help to foster a conversation that might not have arisen otherwise.

It’s important to give myself credit, though, for what I did to share my voice in other ways. I’m typically very vocal in small group discussions, in fact, I usually feel like I dominate the conversation and consciously focus on listening to my classmates instead of preemptively forming my arguments. I also find it easier to more actively participate during our out-of-class meetings because they are generally more casual and more inclusive of experiential topics which I find easy to contribute to. Although slightly contradictory, the structural change of allowing hand-raising in Voice was helpful in my ability and ease of participation, and I saw myself improve in my comfort towards speaking in this class. The times that I am quieter (such as our final get-together) often represent my own effort to process what is being said over the course of the discussion. Like Chandrea, sometimes I wish I had a sticky note with “PROCESSING” on it that I can stick to my head, because I want people to know that I am engaged in and thoughtful about what they are saying, even if I don’t respond directly.  

To finish, I’m not really sure why I find it so hard to speak up in class. I have been asked on multiple occasions and each time I struggle to come up with an answer. The soul-searching that I’ve done around this issue this semester has led me to a place where I am more content with my own style and frequency of participation. And frankly, I’m tired of the disappointment and self-hate. Sometimes, I just don’t express myself as effectively through speaking, and I think that’s okay.

Since ESem, Serendip has been nothing but good to me, and I actively use it during both required and non-required times to complete unfinished/unspoken thoughts and take advantage of the wealth of knowledge that other 360ers have to offer. I’ve completed every assignment, across every course, with a wholehearted conviction and effort. Behind every content and structure choice there was significant time spent ensuring that I’d made the right choices; I also made sure to complete and hand in each assignment on time. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision, but everything I did I did to show you all that I care. I care SO much about this class and this experience and how much it’s pushed me. And I’m terrified that because I have difficulty speaking in class that you’ll think I don’t care. Shannon put it nicely in a conversation we had today about the end. She said “If you’ve been thrown into the ocean, it’s hard to see that you’re swimming when you’re so preoccupied with the possibility of drowning.” She also reminded me to have faith in your abilities to see more deeply into the distances I’ve traveled this semester, and how that shows itself in different ways. In the end, I’m ashamed to admit that I’m worried about a grade. But maybe it’s not so much about the grade and more about me wanting you to know how much I’ve gotten from this, and how glad I am to have done something so scary and all-encompassing and utterly wonderful. In our meeting, Anne told me to be content with the fact that I know this – that’s what matters. But as I revealed at our final class, I feel more unfinished than anything else. Can I understand my feelings regarding an experience but still feel unfinished? That’s what is difficult about being evaluated, or evaluating myself. Where do I start if I haven’t finished yet?

Reading

I will be completely honest in saying that I sometime felt frustrated by the difficulty of our texts, which then affected what percentage I read. Vision texts, both before and during the Cannery, were most accessible to me in terms of ease. Voice followed next in that I felt as though I had a good background of education knowledge, which helped me process the more theoretical texts. Silence was where I found myself the most stumped, sometimes struggling over entire readings. These struggles resulted in many frustrations, including late, angry nights in front of the computer; but they also proved generative in that I had to learn what to do with a text I didn’t understand. I developed the strategy of tackling a piece of the text that I found particularly interesting and practicing a close-reading of that particular section. I used this tactic often and while I didn’t feel as prepared as some of my classmates who may have understood the whole text better than I did, I did have a piece that I knew really well and felt confident about, which allowed me to transition easily into conversations without feeling as though I was going in blind. This was an approach introduced to us in Silence through the close-reading partner exercise. It was really powerful to recognize that with just a little more time spent, I could unveil the complexities behind each sentence that weren’t clear to me before. What most excites me about this discovery is that I can carry this strategy over into other classes and experiences that seem off-puttingly complex but hold valuable nuggets of information.

 That being said, I particularly appreciated the various forms of text we encountered across the 360. Namely, the “Prisoners of a Hard Life” zine was instrumental in pushing my personal growth and engagement in Vision due to its use of powerful visuals and statistics. I also appreciated the transitions between theoretical text and novel during Silence class. Having the chance to perform my own analysis rather than reading the analysis of others was a refreshing break that enabled me to exercise another skill while still incorporating relevant articles and experiences. The readings we encountered in Voice relied on a balance of theory and anecdotal text which served to present an idea and then allow me to process it though the stories of incarcerated women. The texts’ structure in its ability to provide this experience was valuable as a practice of seeing the real world implications of issues discussed in class – an exercise which nicely mirrored our learning in the Cannery.

 I don’t think of reading as an experience which resides within an institution of walls. While I’d like to claim that most academic texts are inaccessible and “that’s privilege” and toss them under the table (as I was often tempted to do at the beginning of the semester), our experience has taught me that I do have the ability to wade through and find the gems of knowledge. As long as I continue doing that and recognize this ability within myself, reading really holds no bounds.

Writing

I’m glad you’ve prompted me to look back because I know I began this course in a very different place than where I’ve ended up (no surprises there!). What drew me in so long ago was the fact that two of my all-time favorite professors would be teaching together! I also felt as though the subjects of each class (English, Education and Sociology) were both accessible and appealing to me.  I wasn’t necessarily invested in the subject of women in walled communities, and though I felt a pull towards social-justice oriented activism, it was not something that I had explored deeply yet.  I see this hesitation in my first Silence web event. My topic (my summer job) was one that is very close to my heart, but I delved very cursorily into the topic of silence, choosing to explore the word in its most common definition of “to not speak”. This paper marked my transition into the course – I was testing the waters without really taking the plunge.  I see a stark change take place in my first paper for Voice (written 21 days later) which begins to question my own voice and that of other’s through the complicated lens of translation. Here, I approach my own experience with voice but push deeper by questioning the validity of programs that I am involved in and putting multiple “texts” in conversation with one another. Finally, around the halfway point of the semester, I reached a point of experimenting with unfamiliar, uncharted aspects of form and content. As one who finds it risky to explore different forms of academic writing, I felt successful in my ability to branch out this semester. My third web event for Silence was especially nerve-racking but fulfilling in that talking to the camera provided me an opportunity to work through a topic out loud when I had the urge– something that is often difficult for me.  I felt the same sense of accomplishment and risk approaching my third memo for Vision in which I took the opportunity to critically analyze the structure of our course and how it built on my own ability to engage with the subject of incarcerated women.

Only now do I see the concrete ways in which my writing grew to reflect the change that I have undergone as a student. Creating a portfolio on Serendip also allowed me to look back at my old ESem papers. This practice not only further supports how much the walls of my thinking have been broken down across this semester, but also that the quality of my writing has vastly improved. I’ve been working on tightening up my prose, and as is evident from the comparison, I’ve been successful at that. One of the most striking differences though is the confidence I now display in taking risks in my writing. I confidently tackled possibly controversial topics and spoke my mind to the best of my abilities. We have a tendency to dance around issues in academia, hiding them behind big words and convoluted sentences. But an important lesson that I took from our incarcerated classmates in Vision is that sometimes, it’s more helpful for everyone to just say it like it is. I recognize that this course was a very accepting forum for my writing experimentation, and I may not have as much freedom in future courses. I will, however, carry forth this lesson in continuing to be more explicit in my writing and putting more value on my own voice.

My online postings, at the beginning, were often an experiment in anxiety. I rarely worried about the public encountering what I’d said on our forum, but rather saying things that I thought may offend or disagree with my classmates. This quickly became a worry of the past, though, as my peers began to comment on and support my statements. This was a hugely influential part of the class experience for me because the practice contributed to the sense of solidarity and pushing that characterized our 360. My risk-filled Web Paper 2 for Silence is the greatest reminder of this experience. I hesitated to put it up because I was afraid of the backlash it would receive. When Irene commented, although she disagreed with some of my points, I felt instantly supported through the knowledge that she read and tried to understand my point of view. This was my first indication of the community that our 360 would become. Her comment yelled to me, “I hear you!” Knowing how this affected me, I worked to do the same for others who may have been going out on a limb with their posts. This created a, equal balance between posts and comments on other’s posts; I had 33 posts and about 29 comments.

While I had worked past the point of every post being anxiety-ridden, I put the same amount of quality thought and effort into each from the beginning until the end. As my posts and papers represented my main expression of voice, I thought deeply about each before pressing “submit”. I typically began thinking about topics for papers up to a week before the due date. When I finally settled on an argument or question I wanted to explore, I would write over the course of 3 or 4 days, working to get all my thoughts on the paper and then coming back to edit with a clear mind. I often talked over my ideas with non-360 friends, to make sure that they were clear and explicit enough for the internet community. I was also just really excited to share the deeply intellectual/personal work that I put into each post. As mentioned before, I made a strong effort to turn in each paper in a quality that I was proud of, and before the required time or date. I was successful in this endeavor with each piece, and being conscious of this allowed me to better participate in class discussion as I then had time to read and respond to many of my peers’ writing. This 360 mattered way too much for me to turn in something cursory or that I wasn’t happy with. I felt a really strong sense of accountability to myself because I am so grateful and fortunate to be a part of this class.  In looking back over my portfolio, although I made significant strides in depth and structure since the beginning of class, from the beginning I was consciously aware of my own goal in producing consistently quality work.

Vision: Experience in Jail

Our overall experience in the Cannery was a HUGE step out of my comfort zone. I’m a generally shy person who avoids being in large unfamiliar groups like the plague. This experience represents a real turn for me because I dove head-first into what scares me. The Cannery was never a break for me, both because even after six weeks I was left with residual anxiety, but also because I was constantly slapped in the face by the unavoidable truthfulness through which the women told their stories. Every class presented an emotional upheaval, and while I didn’t look forward to going because of this and the exhaustion I felt after, I recognized that hearing these harsh realities was a hard, but necessary part of our experience. I would go home and be able to think of nothing for hours after. My friend’s petty worries about grades and boys seemed disgustingly superficial, and their lack of emotion towards some of the stories I would share further propelled my perception. For this reason I did most of the preparation and reflection by myself or with other 360ers. I often approached the issue by asking myself why I was feeling that way I was. It always came back to Howard Zehr’s idea of social distance. Every class, walls that I and society had so carefully erected were coming down. And while it was uncomfortable, I am so grateful that it happened because I needed that reality check.

Initially, I was bad at throwing myself into conversation with the women. To be honest, I was terrified and awkward and squished during the first class – not really a combination that makes for good social skills. I like to think, though, that I improve significantly as time went on. After the first two classes, I made a strong effort to begin conversations and engage with our Cannery peers. I had some burning questions that I was able to ask during our collage exercise, and it felt natural to transition from talking about prison life to gushing over common food/pop culture interests. Near the end, though, I found it really helpful to enjoy the silence that often permeated the room as we worked. I really liked letting the art speak for itself in giving it the attention it deserved, because we all through our whole, vulnerable, selves into those pieces, and such a risk should be respected.

I was extremely hesitant about the “value” of our art projects when I first understood what we’d be doing. I underestimated their ability to serve  as educational, introspective tools. I always put my whole effort into each piece, but at the beginning, this effort came out of my feeling like I owed it to the women to pretend that I was invested. My motivations underwent a significant transformation, though, as the class continued. Although the academic in me may have rejected the focus on art in the beginning and saw it as mostly a tool for the women, I came to value my own ability to reflect myself in my art as I connected more strongly to our topics of niches, metaphor and leadership. My initial doubt was coupled with the fact that I can’t draw to save my life, so I thought I would fail miserably at whatever we attempted. But once I got over the issue of worth and pride and threw myself into each project, I learned what had been clear all along: artistic ability wasn’t the point. Art put us all on a level playing field to explore important experiences and issues in a way that was unfamiliar but incredibly revealing. From then on, I approached each project like my papers – with an attention to detail and thoughtfulness that I can’t afford to spend on most things. But this felt important to me, so I really threw myself into it, just like everything else I did in this 360.

I hope that you all know how much I appreciate this experience. I don’t even have the words to explain what it means to me. I’ve been fortunate enough to explore deep, important topics with women who have supported me through the entire learning process, helping me with my struggles and celebrating with me during my successes. I care more, push harder and think more deeply after this experience. I’ve come so far thanks to you all, and for that I am eternally grateful.

SO much 360 love,

Hayley