I tutored in writing before I knew what writing was. It wasn't text books and comp classes; the threat of a low grade or other stereotypical means that taught me its meanings, it was, in fact, reading what others had to write. So, ironically, as I sat in those black swivel chairs in my college’s writing center, I learned what it was to really write from helping people with that very task. I read their stories and other essay types but I began to understand that I was, in reality, also reading their perspective and take on life. In so doing, tutoring taught me the meaning of writing. It doesn’t just mean conveying thoughts, or being persuasive or mastering the art of grammar and formatting. Writing means sharing one’s life.

Writing is taking life as it happens to you and what happens in the imagination and heart and putting it into visible words. All these things individually are unique to a person, but when they come to together in writing, they turn it into something special. Someone’s take on the world and their processes of what happens influence the words they put on the page. And that is beautiful. The hate in someone’s perspective, the bias in the mind or the love in one's heart all comes out in writing, and it’s together tragic and wonderful. I learned that writing is the good and the bad of life accumulated into written letters, then into words and finally into complete and fascinating stories that others can read. And that's exactly what I did, I read about people's lives. And let me tell you, it’s an honor.

I read papers about life in a refugee camp, about life being homeless, the life story of someone now passed away. Reading those stories touched me. But it wasn’t just people’s narratives that impacted me. I read ethics papers and I heard the reasoning behind the answers they gave--of the death these writers have seen or the life they’ve witnessed; the argumentative essay where a student chose to write against the topic of school uniforms because she was never able to truly express herself in school, another essay against immigration because the girl writing it experienced the devastation of family and friends being deported; and even the light-hearted process paper about how a good beer is made. Writing isn’t just words on a page wittily crafted to be interesting or grammar and formatting. It’s the unique life of a person leaked into written word and the soul of a person coming out of hiding.

So, take it from me, as a tutor to whom people brought their papers because it was my job to look them over, if anyone ever asks you to read their story or poem, do it. Understand that whether you know it or not, they’re giving you a glimpse into how they view the world, and by looking through it, your life will be made all the more rich. Mine was.

Reading peoples' papers was my job, but reading peoples' stories is a privilege.