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Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
A Clack of Tiny SparksCooper, BernardHarper's Magazine; Jan 1991; 282, 1688; ProQuest Research Librarypg. 64
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
February 11, 2016 A note regarding Jordan Buff’s essay: Jordan wrote this essay during the spring semester of his first year at Loyola University Maryland for my course, “Effective Writing,” the required writing course. It was also my first year teaching at Loyola. Their first essay was a “personal narrative,” and Jordan came up to me after the class in which I had introduced the assignment. “Professor,” he said, “I think I know what I want to write about. But I don’t want to peer workshop it. You may be able to figure out what it is.” In that moment it really didn’t matter if I could surmise the topic or not. It mattered that he received approval to write the essay—not for an audience but for himself. “Sure.” I said. “Of course—we can figure something else out for peer review, and I’ll be discrete about it.” This is the essay that Jordan wrote. This is the first draft of the essay that Jordan wrote. Typically, I require significant revision on all essays by the end of the semester. But when we met to talk about the essay, after he sat in my office for an hour and we talked about his experiences growing up, I told Jordan he didn’t have to revise. I told him he may not be able to revise right away—or maybe ever—and that there were no expectations. Please, therefore, excuse the occasional grammar or proofreading mistake. Three years later, I saw Jordan on campus. I knew he was graduating, and I asked him to go on a walk with me. I told him how important his essay and his conversation with me in my office was to my own parenting (when he took my class Carmine was three and Hildegard was one). And Jordan told me that this was the essay he used to reveal his sexuality to his family and friends. When he was afraid and the words caught in his throat, he’d simply look down at his paper and read it verbatim. I asked Jordan if I could share his essay with the St. Anne’s school community, and this is what he wrote: I would be honored if you were to share my essay and my experience with the families at your children's elementary school. Please, feel free to share my name in the story. I think that redacting the name would obfuscate the honesty I tried to include. Thank you for opening your heart and spirit to what Jordan shares.
Lisa Zimmerelli Parent, with John Zimmerelli, to Carmine (3rd), Hildie (1st), and Roberta (Preschool) Chair, Board of Trustees Social Justice Committee