Laura Nyro
I recently downloaded some Laura Nyro songs from her final album, Angel in the Dark. The producer’s notes mention how important the imagination was to Nyro—it was the “ultimate, the center of spirituality.”
In working with first year college students and their writing, I notice their motivation rises when I give exercises or assignments that invoke their imaginations.
Educators have an ongoing debate about whether the personal narrative has a place in first year writing courses. Many professors argue that we should be teaching them how to write about others’ writing—how to critically engage in dialog with published thinkers, scholars, and writers. Others suggest a more developmental model that puts students inside what they know best: their own autobiographies. By tapping into what they know, the argument goes, we can help them tap into their own writing voices—we can perhaps motivate them to care about and delve more critically into the written word.
One has only to listen to Nyro’s voice—to study her melodies and lyrics—to recognize that she tapped into something deep, lasting, and necessary. Hers was a rare talent; and in her short life, she recognized “her true self” in her imagination.
In one of her last songs, she wrote,
Don’t hurt child
You need to find your way
In the madness of the day
And if it don’t break you
It will be
Your song
I believe that learning is about finding and trusting our own songs.
Commenting is closed for this article.