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A Promise to the Co-Captain

Nancy Blattner
Southeast Missouri State University
Cape Girardeau, MO

As the Director of Writing Assessment on campus, I knew how high the stakes were for these students. I had never had a student whose portfolio did not successfully meet the graduation requirement, yet each time I taught the course, I felt more frustrated by the system that had failed these students and by the responsibility that I felt in helping them improve their writing skills enough in one semester so that they could graduate.

This roster held few surprises as I surveyed each one of the dozen Japanese students' names. Then, I saw it: Jerry Freshwater. A name as much out of place in this group because of its ethnicity as because of the fact that I recognized it. The young man who had been the starting point guard for the SEMO Indians for the past four years was in my class.

As members of the Southeast Missouri State University Boosters Club, my husband and I had watched Jerry Freshwater play basketball for four years. We had sat with 7,000 other fans in awe the night Jerry hit eight 3-point shots in a row. We had cheered as the announcer informed the crowd that #12 had picked off another pass. But now Jerry's eligibility was up, and so was his usefulness to the athletic community on campus. This class was his last chance to become more than another basketball casualty, joining several of his teammates who had given up on passing the University's writing requirement and moved away without their diplomas.

On the first day of class last fall, I walked into Room 302 a few minutes before ten o'clock and greeted the students. A few shifted in their seats; two or three smiled shyly; some were whispering nervously in Japanese. Sitting conspicuously alone in the front row was Jerry. His baseball cap hid his eyes, but his head was turned toward me as he sat upright in his desk, fidgeting with a notebook opened to a blank page.

"Could I see you outside for a moment, Mr. Freshwater?" I asked as I nodded toward the open classroom door.

He shrugged and followed me outside and across the hall. Leaning up against the Coke machine, he stared at me from beneath his cap.

"You're not 5'8"!" I blurted out. What struck me first was that we were exactly the same height as we stared at each other—brown eye to blue. I thought of all those times when the starting lineup had been announced to a frenzied crowd in the Show Me Center and Jerry had been called to the floor as the 5'8" starting point guard from Marion, Indiana.

"No, ma'am," Jerry answered with a smile. "About 5'6", I guess."

I was completely taken off guard by Jerry's easy friendliness. At best, most of the students in EN 230 were uneasy; at worst, they were angry at me as a representative of the educational system that had neglected their needs for so long and then had denied them their college diplomas. I found myself immediately liking this young man with the laid-back air and the slow grin. "Jerry, I'm going to need your help in this class. Would you consider being ‘co-captain' of EN230?"

He thought for a few minutes, his surprise that I knew about his basketball career clearly showing on his face. Then, he said, "What would I have to do?"

I explained that the class was a writing workshop, that students would be working in writing groups often, peer-critiquing each other's work. I wanted Jerry to serve as a group leader, coaching other students to read their papers aloud, listen to their peers' comments, and then revise their papers accordingly.

"I can try to do that," he answered after a long pause.

Being a co-captain was nothing new to Jerry; he was the co-captain of the basketball team during his senior year. However, taking a lead role in this class would be more difficult. Jerry's writing skills were weak. In fact, I knew that he'd failed the writing proficiency exam with one of the lowest scores ever recorded. Still, I argued with myself, he has leadership abilities, and I'd heard from other teachers that he was a motivated student and a hard worker. I wondered if I'd regret my offer to Jerry.

My concerns were alleviated the following Wednesday when Jerry came to class with his reading assignment completed. When I broke the students into groups, I overheard Jerry taking the lead, asking questions and jotting down notes for the group. This class set the pattern for future peer work sessions.

As the second week of classes began, I started meeting my students for their tutorials. In EN230, students are required to schedule a weekly tutorial with their instructor for individualized help with their writing. Jerry's conference time was Tuesday at 9:30, and he never missed one of his appointments, my first clue that his work ethic and philosophy of perseverance applied to situations off the basketball court, too. Quietly, he'd appear outside my office door in the Writing Center, signaling that it was time for his conference. I began to look forward to our weekly sessions which became a learning time for both of us.

As Jerry wrote about the game in which he captured fourth place on the Indians' All-time Assist Leaders' list, I learned how the offense successfully executes a pick and roll. Jerry learned that he needed to help the reader "see" the game, visualizing what he felt like when the game against the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee was stopped and Jerry was honored by the fans for his achievement.

Our tutorials continued each week throughout the semester. Jerry wrote about his big brother Andrew who had protected him from the dangers of the street by letting him hang out with the older guys. For another assignment, Jerry drafted an essay about his internship with the Missouri Department of Youth Service where he worked with "at risk" young people between the ages of 12 and 18. When Jerry wrote about his father who was forced to quit school at 14 to help support his family, I was reminded of my own father who had only an eighth grade education. I then realized that Jerry and I had many things in common; most importantly, we were both the first generation in our family to attend and graduate from college. My understanding and appreciation of his struggles and his determination grew.

Early in November, Jerry told me that he would be missing class the following Monday. The juvenile division of the probation and parole office in his hometown had offered him an interview. Knowing how much Jerry wanted to work with kids who had gotten into trouble and what a positive role model he would be, I excused Jerry from class. When he returned, he told me that the interview had gone well and that one of the first things he'd been asked to do was write a sample report. "I knew what to do," he told me. "I just followed the strategies I've learned in EN230."

Shortly after Thanksgiving, the semester reached its conclusion. My EN 230 students had assembled their portfolios for review by the Writing Committee. I was proud of all fifteen of my students whose portfolios "passed." But I've never been prouder of a student than I was of Jerry and of all that he had learned and how his writing had matured. Even more importantly, Jerry's attitude about writing had changed; he had gained confidence in his ability to write.

The comments Jerry wrote in his portfolio analysis two weeks before the end of the class confirmed what I had suspected about Jerry's growth as a writer during the semester:

My feeling is that I must practice at writing to become a better writer. Just like playing sports, the athlete must practice to become a better player. By taking this course, I have received confidence that I can write. I would like to say that if any athlete have [sic] trouble writing, then this is the course to take to improve your writing.

Wanting to keep my promise to Jerry, I arranged with the athletic coordinator to meet with the coaching staff earlier this semester. Not just the basketball coaches, but the volleyball, track, baseball, football, and gymnastics coaches, too—I wanted to tell them all about Jerry and what I'd promised him. The coaches and I made a tentative agreement that I would meet with all of the student athletes at the beginning of each academic year to inform them of the University's writing proficiency requirement and personally to invite them to make an appointment with me to talk about their writing skills. In the meantime, the coaches agreed to go back to their players and talk with them about the writing requirement.

Last month, the newly recruited freshman point guard came to see me in the Writing Center. I invited him into my office as I smiled and thought of Jerry.