Summer School 2005

Dominican High School & Academy was founded by my friends the Adrian Dominican nuns more than 60 years ago. It's growth and demise echo Detroit's--white flight, fewer and fewer young women willing to forgo the social push/pull of co-ed high school, and fewer parents able to afford the luxury of private school. From 1997 until 2004, I taught English to mostly African American girls--young women really--until the apparent futility of attracting more students overwhelmed me. I decided to let go and move on.

I focused on my favorite subject--writing--and decided to say "no" to everything else. Writing transforms...writing well empowers. The most significant changes I had the priviledge to initiate involved young women discovering their voices. So, I now teach both at Wayne State and Siena Heights Universities.

When the principal from Dominican called me to teach summer school, I jumped at the chance to reconnect with my "girls" and to offer them my newly acquired insights. I developed and course just for them--Senior Composition. The would learn everything they needed to know about writing for college.

The old saying, "you can't go home again," is usually confirmed by disappointing experiences, but in this case, I have gone home, and it has been more than satisfying. I am invigorated with their curiousity, their challenging questions, their humor and their love. The class has exceeded my expectations and theirs, as well.

Of course, it helps not to have to be concerned with the rolling of the skirts, uniform violations, chewing gum and all the other disciplinary annoyances. We eat in class, wear what we want to--wander off to the bathroom to check our voice mail. Since my students have chosen to be here with me, there is little to no resistance or slacking off--I say little--there is some, but it's understandable. The school is being packed up, the walls are almost bare, it is 90 degrees and sometimes we are simply struck with the sadness of tables in the dining hall stacked with dusty textbooks instead of noisy girls. The dumpster filled with desks moved me unexpectedly one morning.

In spite of witnessing the very end of something I loved so much, I'm glad to be there. I know that 12 young women will end the summer knowing they have a power that they can leverage throughout their lives and I fully expect their voices to be heard!