NWP Urban Sites Conference 2003 Scratches an Itch

By: Joe Bellacero
Publication: The Voice, Vol. 9, No. 1
Date: 2004

Summary: Bellacero, writing in response to his participation in the National Writing Project Urban Sites Conference 2003, offers first-timers a view of and feel for the event that is both helpful and enticing.

For me, the National Writing Project Urban Sites Conference 2003 began in a meeting room of the Santa Barbara Public Library, with chairs in a circle and a familiar writing prompt before us: "Choose a sentence from T.C. Boyle's The Tortilla Curtain that resonates with you and write it in marker on the large strip of paper we have distributed." Unbothered by the fact that I hadn't read the book (somehow I had signed myself up for the session "Writing Under the Influence of The Tortilla Curtain" without realizing it was a book, let alone that I should buy it and read it) I knew that I would be able to find something quickly, so instead of starting right in, I sat back and watched the other participants. Some, like me, were cracking the spines of brand-new books that the facilitators had thoughtfully brought and distributed (mine was signed by the author, by the way). Others turned to a favored section of their well-marked, dog-eared, curled-edged editions and were immediately writing. (Have you ever noticed that a read book is fatter than a new one, as if part of the reader has actually gotten inside?) One lovely woman sat with the book open on her lap, idly scratching an ankle as she was drawn back into the pages. She never did write down her passage, just read and scratched. Did she finally find and satisfy her itch? Strictly going by my own experience, I'm going to guess yes and no.

Obviously, we were all in Santa Barbara to satisfy various itches. There was the desire to connect with others who encounter many of the same challenges we face and who are willing to share the work they have done in overcoming those challenges. There was the need to present our own work and to use any feedback we might receive as a lens to help us see what we have accomplished and to help us find fresh avenues to pursue. There was the urge to locate resources that we could bring into our own classes to make writing more alive, more personal, more useful to our students. And, of course, there was the primal hunger, no doubt as ancient as the species, to be in Santa Barbara in the spring. These are pleasant itches of the kind that seem to grow even as they are satisfied.

I was at my first Urban Sites Conference to discuss the work we, in New York City, have been doing with novice teachers as part of the NWP New-Teacher Initiative grant we received from the NWP. Debi Freeman and I are teacher-consultants working with a small group of beginning teachers from one school in Brooklyn and another in the Bronx. Felicia George is our partner with the New York City Writing Project, and Carol Rose of Philadelphia is our liaison to the NWP. This was a chance for us to meet and discuss where we are in the work and where we think we should be going. To be able to have this conversation in Fess Parker's Doubletree Resort and Spa, in Santa Barbara, made us feel, in the words of a teacher-consultant from Boston, ". . . like celebrities." Don't let Fess Parker's name fool you. Yes, there were coonskin hats on the bottles of Fess Parker wine being sold in the gift shop, but that was where the "wild frontier" theme ended. My room was in the Camellia Wing of the resort, while others stayed in the Gardenia or Bougainvillea Wings. Birds sang among the flowers growing at the edge of my terrace (and I bought a Peterson's Guide to Western Birds and added each bird I identified to my lifelist). The pool sparkled in the sun. The fragrance of the Pacific Ocean, 200 yards away from my window, greeted me with each brief morning mist. For those two days at least, the National Writing Project enabled me to see how the other 10 percent live.

Perhaps you are unfamiliar, as I was, with the structure of an Urban Sites Conference. Let me lead you through the days. On the first day, Friday, April 25, many of us met to visit writing project programs in the Santa Barbara public schools. There we saw the children of the Mexican and Indian workers who maintain this Garden of Eden engaged in writing activities that taught, thrilled, and released these children from the constraints of working in a second language. When asked, one child responded, "I love school!" After viewing the programs, there was time for reflection, writing, and discussion, which would later be shared with the entire conference group. Others of us chose to participate in one or two of four "Writing Under the Influence" opportunities. First a morning group and then an afternoon group went to the Santa Barbara Museum of Art to view, write, and share. Another group went to the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden to think and write among native flowers, shrubs, and trees. And of course, my group went to the library to write about and discuss The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle. (It's a compelling novel, and I will finish it soon. If it comes up again, by George, I'll be ready.) The evening ended with a gathering at the library for a reception. We ate on the lawn while being entertained first by Luis Moreno's Spanish guitar and gentle voice and then by the Izcatetl Azteka Dance Group with intricate drumming rhythms and a hypnotic dance of greeting. A program inside the library followed, treating us to the amusing and touching writings of students from the local schools (read by their authors) and a slide presentation of our activities during the day. Finally, we feasted in a local restaurant on Mexican cuisine and rich conversation.

Saturday was the heart of the conference, the "working day." A continental breakfast flowed into the welcoming remarks and a powerful and instructive talk on "Theory, Politics, Hope and Action" by keynote speaker, Carole Edelsky. The standing ovation she received could well have been repeated for workshop after workshop throughout the morning and afternoon. Between workshops, participants met, compared notes, bemoaned the fact that bilocation was against the laws of physics, and rushed off to their next opportunity. The four workshops I attended--the Bay Area Writing Project's workshop on reading apprenticeship, the New-Teacher Initiative roundtables, the Puget Sound Writing Project's session on senior projects, and the Peachtree Urban Writing Project's amazing work with the Harlem Renaissance--were filled with useful ideas ready to be taken and shaped to the needs of my school and my students. But the same could be said for each of the other 36 presentations and roundtables.

Our hosts, the South Coast Writing Project (California), must have had many crushingly busy days and late sleepless nights to pull this together, yet it appeared seamless and inspiring. The setting, between the ocean and the mountains, was inspiring. The accommodations and meals were inspiring. The company was inspiring. The schools, writing opportunities, and the dramatic presentations by Philip Levien's students were inspiring. And the workshops were both inspired and inspiring.

For me, the 2004 National Writing Project Urban Sites Conference in Philadelphia began on the piazza of Fess Parker's Doubletree Resort and Spa in Santa Barbara. Sitting in the sun, with a glass of wine and a susurrus of writing project conversations, California birds, and Santa Barbara surf as background music, I began to plan my trip down the turnpike from New York to Philly. After all, the need for inspiration is an itch that can never be scratched enough.