’LL HELP YOU OVER HERE,” I SAID, AND MOTIONED FOR THE YOUNG WOMAN (I’ll call her Sarah) to come to my table. It had been a long day, and I wasn’t in a mood to deal with bad grammar and unorganized essays. We exchanged introductions and began what I thought would be a typical tutoring session.
“I don’t know if you can even help me,” Sarah murmured. “I’m working on my application for graduate school.”
While most of the students who come to the Writing Center on Southern Adventist University’s campus are looking for guidance on composition papers for lower-level writing courses, it’s not infrequent that those of us who work at the center are asked to read résumés, job applications, and other kinds of writing.
“Sure, let’s take a look,” I said. As I began reading, her essay application seemed to answer all the typical questions in a very conventional way: “Why do you want to pursue this degree?” “What experiences have you had in the past dealing with this profession?” “How do you see yourself fitting into the world of your chosen profession?” I made some grammatical and stylistic changes to her formula-driven answers.
But when I read page 3, everything changed.
Sarah had lost her father very suddenly just a few months before. She had included this information in her application in the midst of her standard answers as if it were something she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to.
As I scanned her words, I sensed her nervousness. She described the painful experience of her father’s death and the impact it had on her as a daughter and a student. It was the comfort others had shown her that made her decide to pick a career that involved helping others. Because of her traumatic experience, she had decided to become a social worker.
I placed my red pen on the table. “I’m so sorry about your dad.”
“Thank you. It’s OK. If you think I should take that part out, I can.”
“Absolutely not,” I told her. “This is who you are. This is your life on paper!”
I suddenly felt a weighty obligation to ensure that the men and women reading her application would see and feel what I had—an understanding of the fact that this young woman had discovered through a terrible experience that she wanted to spend her life helping others.
The next day Sarah brought the essay back to me with all our changes made. Her experience with her father was now at the beginning—and it was powerful.
“It speaks for itself,” I told her. “I think it’s great.”
Through the months I’ve worked as a tutor, a few of the students I’ve helped have returned to say a quick “Thanks.” But I’ve never been given such a gift as Sarah’s e-mail, expressing her sincere gratitude for my help. All the hours I had spent with students who wanted me to “fix” their papers became worthwhile because of this one student who cared enough to let me know she appreciated the time I spent with her. Her simple yet genuine “Thank you” transformed both that day and the rest of my school year.
I spoke with Sarah recently and learned that she had been accepted into the master’s program for social work by her top-choice school. On days when it seems my labor counts for little, her grateful e-mail reminds me that I can—and by the grace of God, do—make a difference.
___________
