Paola Ursuline Book at Amazon.com

Journeys of Ursuline is now a reality--all 252 pages of Paola Ursuline memories captured from scrapbooks, photo albums, newspaper clippings, and even the Miami County Historical Society's archives.   The most special part, at least in my estimation, are the personal narratives--30 or so--written not only by alums but also by people in the community.  This is a treasure, especially with the maps of the original land use and the early pictures of the buildings.  I just hope that the word gets out to the alums, because they will want this final memory of a very special place.

I like the fact that it is available at Amazon.com because people clear across the country will be able to access it--if they know to do so.  I've sent messages to as many as I can think of.  Wish I knew how to handle Facebook more efficiently to get the word out that way.  Oh well, we'll hope for the best.

Ursuline's Oriental Evening

"Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea...." I not only can sing it, but every year around high school prom time the over-powering fragrance of Puff tissues fuses with that Peter, Paul, and Mary anthem from the '60s. I recall the Ursuline prom of 1963--my class's Junior prom and one that remains vivid in the mind of the class's day students.

Being a day student at a boarding school was a challenge. We sort of straddled three worlds--our school's, which very much was developed around the 24/7 resident culture; our homes', where we were expected to fulfill family obligations while also living up to the school's numerous after-class time commitments; and the world of our local peers. As children, my UA day student peers and I had developed friendships with lots of local kids through Scouting and other community activities. But now in high school it was difficult to retain friendships, especially with other girls who often regarded Ursuline, with its many attractive Latin American students, as competition for the local male population. In addition, some interpreted our choice to attend a private school as disdain for PHS and downright snobbishness. And it wasn't always easy within UA either. I remember the Monday morning my senior year when day students learned at 7:50 that we were having a College English mid-term over Beowulf and Chaucer at 8:00. The resident students had received the information over the weekend, but none of them chose to pass the word to a day student. That was OK, though: two of the top three grades were garnered by day students taking a mid-term as a pop quiz.

Day students in the Class of '64 were bright and creative and risk takers and incredibly persistent. Those traits, the fact that three of the five class officers were day students, and the happen-stance that our sponsor was way too busy to do her job helped the 1963 Ursuline prom become one of a kind. Early on, our sponsor, Sr. Barbara, confessed that she was just too busy to oversee our class projects and she knew we were mature and capable students and so, "Surprise me," she said. She actually said that, and we actually did.

Until 1963 Ursuline proms were always held in the Alumni Room (later called the Wicker Room) in the Convent itself. Just imagine trying to convince a guy to take you to a prom in a Convent. And then add to that a strongly held tradition that the nuns loved and the students and their dates loathed. Before the prom began, all gathered in a circle around the six foot tall statue of the Blessed Virgin (elevated even taller by a pedestal) in the rotunda of the Convent to say a prayer for purity. There were rumors that some of the local boys were going to boycott, and we definitely wanted something more sophisticated than the crepe paper affairs that had been the norm to this point. With no sponsor to ban the discussion, someone proposed the unthinkable: "Let's have the prom off campus."

I have no memory of who signed the contract for the armory (at the old location to the left of the main entrance to Wallace Park in Paola), but it had to have been a parent. What I do recall was all the construction we did in Moe Cole's garage. As a class we had decided on a theme--Oriental Evening--and we committed to constructing real prom decorations--none of that crepe paper stuff for us. We decided on two pagodas--one large enough for a band--and a bridge for an oriental garden. And then we had the challenge of covering lots of gun racks and recruiting posters. This last we left to our Latin American students who created beautiful wall hangings. For the big stuff, we moved into Moe's garage. Mrs. John Cole, the grandmother and guardian of our class member, Robbie Dugan, lived at 503 E. Miami at the time. Her free-standing garage abutted the alley and was within easy walking distance for day students, who ended up doing the brunt of the construction. And this is where Puff comes in.

Not having a tradition of proms with real, three-dimensional pieces, we didn't know about those tissue paper squares--Pomps is one brand name--that fill up chicken wire quickly. Instead, we thought we needed to make tissue--as in Kleenex--flowers. And we did--tens of thousands of them. As luck would have it, Puffs came on the market at that very time, and, in an effort to draw people from Kleenex, the manufacturer filled supermarket shelves with boxes for a dime. We bought out our town and the surrounding towns. (I can only imagine what Puffs marketing specialists thought when they got the feedback from Miami County, Kansas.) Soon Moe's garage smelled like a perfume factory, and we were, literally, up to our knees in tissue flowers. When the monumental size of the task became apparent to us, we recruited family, the entire student body of Ursuline, and the Ursuline Sisters, including Sr. Charles, the Mother Superior, to help us make flowers. Knitters stopped their knitting to make flowers; dads stopped their woodworking to make flowers. Even little brothers jumped in to help. To get the flowers attached to the roofs of the pagodas we needed lots of hands, so we started inviting boarders to our houses for weekends of work, pizza, and song, including the popular hootenanny hits, with "Puff" at the top of our list.

By the time prom rolled around everyone who was in on the flower making--most of the Catholic population of Paola by this time--knew of the prom plans--everyone except Sr. Barbara. When she finally did learn a week or so before the prom, "ballistic" doesn't begin to describe her reaction. "Sputtering" is closer. She was furious, livid, etc., etc. But we had a contract, plenty of parent sponsors, and hundreds of people with a hands-on commitment--thanks to the Puffs project--to see this prom through to a successful ending. After her flower-making sister Sisters talked her blood pressure back to normal, Sr. Barbara finally "consented," provided that we include the "Blessed Virgin" in the prom. The prayer for purity tradition had to remain.

We were aghast. This was going to be a prom with no guys. What were we going to do? That's when our creativity combined with our persistence to create just a wee bit of deception. One of us said, "That's fine, Sister. We'll have a statue in the oriental garden at the prom." And we did: one of our dad's six-inch high dashboard Mary's got plopped in the middle of a fern in our lovely garden that evening. As for the prayer--well, it seems that the Sisters driving Sr. Barbara to the prom were a little late getting started, so she never got to see whether we circled around the shine-in-the-dark Dashboard Madonna--or not.

Look on the menu for other Ursuline topics.

Greetings from Mary Pat McQueeney!
As the Ursulines prepare to leave Paola, I am requesting your help with a bit of storytelling and social networking that will benefit the Miami County Historical Society’s Ursuline in Paola project.

Miami County Historical Society (MCHS) seeks to fill a gap in the Ursuline history—the interaction between the citizens of Miami County and Ursuline (both as place and people). They wish to collect narratives for a popular/cultural history that will perhaps lead to a book. We’re fortunate that Sr. Charles wrote an institutional history of Ursuline, and, while she includes the details of the initial commitment by Paolans, noticeably missing from that account is the story of the day-to-day and person-to-person impact of Ursuline on Paola and of Paola on Ursuline. Because I value the history of both Paola and Ursuline, I volunteered to assist with this project. And now I need your help. Will you tell your story? And will you pass copies of this letter and publication release on to three or more of your acquaintances who have their own story to share from the Paola perspective?

This initial mailing is going to over 20 people, so, even with duplicates and non-responses, we could have 50 or more substantial stories fairly quickly. And that is important because the project coordinators at the MCHS are beginning to realize just how complex the Paola-Ursuline interaction has been. I would like a strong response soon (say, by May 1) to demonstrate that there are numerous stories out there just waiting to be told. Paolan Roger Shipman volunteers to recover photos for their projects and they have numerous yearbooks to work with, so we can look forward to a nicely developed archive.

If you're like me, the problem isn't WHAT story, but WHICH story to tell. For some of us, Ursuline is a place; to others it is people or a spirit or values or memories. Perhaps you can narrow to "your story" if you imagine a historian coming to Paola, say, in 25 years to capture the history of the place or the people or the spirit that was Ursuline. This researcher can consult the Ursuline archives that will no doubt be lodged with some Kentucky historical society by that time. And he or she can read Sr. Charles's book. But what does Paola have to share? Where is the voice of those who lived in Paola while Ursuline was thriving?

Newspaper archives will provide some perspective, but what about the people's stories? Of the Master Garden project, the little stores, the tunnel, the bell, the "U," the walkers on campus, the food pantry, PACA, piano and art lessons, cultural opportunities, buildings, the senior center, Lakemary's founding, the capital campaign, UA and PHS relations, Camp Ursuline, the costume room, the plays? What of the students who became teachers as a result of the junior college Normal School program? And who will know the narrative of being a day student, escorting Latins to proms, being a neighbor to a convent, serving on organizations with the Sisters, doing business with the Sisters? And who will know the stories of grade school teachers who set so many on such strong paths with so little funding and even less training? And, no doubt, that historian will wonder about that cultural center standing there by itself, and Angela Drive, and Lakemary and adjacent property, and that strange little Miller Street.

I’m sure you can think of many more aspects of this relationship that would be worth capturing. We'll create the richest history if we each choose some aspect of the Paola-Ursuline story that we know well, and tell it as we remember it with some depth. We each have a piece of this puzzle that together would give a vibrant mosaic of Ursuline in Paola--from the Paola/Miami County viewpoint.

FAQs
How long should my story be? We welcome sentences and book chapters and anything in between.

What details should I include? Identify your relation(s) to Ursuline (former student, neighbor, etc.) and the approximately years of that relationship along with your narrative.

How should it be sent? Return your narrative, typed or hand written. Or--better--if you have email access, you'll speed up the process if you will send your document electronically.

What do I do if I have a story to tell but don’t want to write it? If you live in Miami County, you could make arrangements to give an oral history at MCHS. The phone is 913-294-4940.

When is the deadline? We don't have a firm one yet, but I'm asking for this part of the project to be completed by May 1, if possible. It will serve to jumpstart the rest of the project.

What is the release form? This is permission for the Miami County Historical Society to make your story available to researchers and to use your story if it publishes a book.

To whom should these materials be sent?
Email: drpatmcq@sunflower.com is the email I'm using for this project (Please include a release statement similar to the one included in this mailing.)In person: to the Miami County Historical Society

How do I share this mailing with others? I started this mailing from my Christmas card list. You might do the same. You might find it easiest to photocopy this letter with the release and mail it to friends who have a Miami County connection with Ursuline.

I thank you in advance for your participation in this project, and my apologies for not sending personalized letters.

Miami County-Ursuline Narrative Release

I, _________________________________________[please print], give to Miami County Historical Society (MCHS) my interview, narrative, or oral history regarding Ursuline and Miami County. In doing this, I understand that my interview, narrative, or oral history will be made available to researchers and may be quoted from, published or broadcast in any medium that the MCHS shall deem appropriate.
_____________________________
_____________________________
_____________________________[Donor’s signature and address]

Respect the Text

Our local community college writing center just distributed its tutor-written journal of work developed as part of its tutor practicum. Two students, Evan Harmon and Scott Young, authored "Dialogue Strategies," a piece that argues for the value of students' owning their writing, even when they choose to ignore tutor suggestions. "Tutors need to understand their role as tutors that help with the writing process," Harmon and Young state, "and less with what is actually written. We must emphasize process, not product," they conclude (24). That thought has prompted an exchange among English faculty at our school about the legitimacy of the theoretical approach, and, by extension, of the instruction of the writing center director. Is it appropriate "to let a student leave a tutoring session" with a paper having substantial flaws in content, the faculty member initiating the discussion asked.

While the relationship between tutors and tutees as well as the ownership of student papers are issues worth discussing, to be sure, I am troubled that student attempts to enter the academic conversation are not being read as student papers. I think that if we, as English faculty, use our skills of textual analysis, we could put this tutoring tale in context and, in the process, give credit to a legitimate student effort.

To begin, we need to consider the rhetorical situation. Here, we have writers and a student editor who are freshmen or sophomore college students. This is a product of a student practicum--a student publication, in other words. The authors are writing for the general public, or at least the school public, as they attempt to enter into the academic conversation. We can recognize that effort by the complex concepts that they have some difficulty negotiating. For example, "When prioritizing the challenge of student assertion over the challenge of student receptivity, it becomes clear that the answer to the latter, far less important, challenge has already been indicated--to pursue the student's reception of what the tutor thinks is 'right' automatically discourages the far more important development of an already present student assertion" (23). They are working with theory here, without yet fully understanding that the best theory is clean, clear, and direct. Still, they are making an effort, and they wisely move to a concrete example.

They apply the theory by presenting what they refer to as "a real-world scenario" about Lisa, a student who wants a quick review of specific lower order concerns but is reluctant to address higher order problems with a persuasive draft paper (23). Here is where we need to remember that we are reading a student effort to apply theory to practice. Notice, for example, that we don't know whether the Lisa story is real or fiction. The authors didn't write "actual" or "real," so it is unclear whether this was a recounting of a real event. Given the use of pseudonyms elsewhere in the journal and the absence of one here, we might assume that this is real-like rather than reality. This distinction is important, I think, because of what is and is not included in the dialogue between Lisa and the tutor, and the conclusions drawn from what isn't stated.

The authors want to emphasize the interaction between the tutor and Lisa, and Lisa's assertiveness about her own writing. We learn that the tutor recognizes higher order concerns--the usefulness of counter-arguments in a persuasive paper--and appropriately attempts to tutor at that level initially. We learn that Lisa is not receptive to those suggestions, though, but we do not find out why not. We do learn, however, that she does assert her interest in addressing passive voice and commas--issues that the instructor had flagged as problematic in previous writing.

For all we learn about Lisa and the tutor's interaction, it seems even important to note that there is a lot that we don't learn. Perhaps this because the student authors are focusing on points that will develop their thesis. Or, perhaps this is because these student tutors are so immersed in their tutoring world that they assume their audience shares knowledge of their world. At any rate, we don't know, for example, whether Lisa has been at the writing center before, or whether the tutor is familiar with the standards Lisa's teacher sets. Has the tutor seen the assignment for the persuasive paper Lisa is drafting? Does Lisa's teacher typically emphasize discourse level excellence, or is the emphasis on sentence-level correctness? After all, we know that Lisa has received prior feedback that leads her to want input on punctuation and voice. Does she know that is all that will be required or her, or is she on a deadline? (She glances at a clock (24).) We also aren't reminded that tutors fill out a form at the end of each tutoring session. In this case, the report would apprise her instructor of the tutoring process and the choices Lisa made: that Lisa had the opportunity address discourse-level problems with the draft but that she had insisted on sticking with the lower-level concerns.

Please note that I'm not criticizing what's not in the text--it needn't be there. I am concerned, however, by the reasoning of colleagues who ascribe to a writing center director conclusions that her tutors reached. We are reading their paper, not hers. We shouldn't deny these student writers their authorship. This is an article in which two student authors work through issues of ownership of text, free will, and their relationship with writers and their drafts. In the process, they are able to console themselves that what may initially appear to be a failed tutoring effort can, in fact, succeed by giving students opportunities to make the right choices and the freedom to choose to do so--or not. I suggest that their text deserves as much respect as they gave to Lisa.

Work Cited

Harmon, Evan, and Scott Young. "Dialogue Strategies." In the Pockets of Yesterday's Pants: Theory, Practice, Theory. Overland Park, KS: Johnson Country Community College Writing Center, 2008. 23-25.

A Rhetorical Spin on the Prez Debate

After last Friday's presidential debate the spinners seemed committed to avoiding substance for style. News services conflated Obama's remarks so that he was recorded as repeating time and again phrases similar to "I agree with Senator McCain that...." In an effort at equal distortion, John McCain was conflated to repeat time and again, "What Senator Obama doesn't understand is...." Of course, of the two the repetitions made McCain appear to be more authoritative.

While some of the commentators have noticed the differences in "style," none that I have heard have pointed out that the two were using different rhetorics.

McCain's a Classic

John McCain was adhering to classical rhetorical principles, which aims to "win" by refuting the opponents' points in order to convince the public of the superiority of the speaker's position. From time to time, however, he committed a classical fallacy, ad hominem (to the man). He chose to focus on the man, with his comments about Obama's lack of knowledge or understanding and, finally, on the statement that he thought Obama was unqualified to be president.

Obama's a Rogerian

Barack Obama was operating with a type of rhetoric that is less focused on winning, convincing and refuting than on achieving civility, consensus, and common ground. Here are the steps of a rogerian argument: cite the problem, state the others' position, acknowledge others, state own position, accommodate to achieve common ground while remaining true to ethics.

* * *

I'm not taking a position for one over the other, but I think it is important to understand what and why people were speaking the way they were. I leave it to others to decide what form of thinking and rhetoric they think we need.

Child of God

All day yesterday, I was at a conference on using technology in education, and all day yesterday I was thinking about Sister de Lourdes. Sr. de Lourdes, who now goes by her given name of Sr. Rita Redmond, taught many of my friends from Paola, and she taught religion on Saturday afternoons to public-school rebels like me. I'm sure my thoughts strayed to her because I had just learned that she is very sick. But I also had her on my mind because just a year ago 30 or so of her former students surprised her with a reunion. It was what happened at that reunion that kept coming back to me as I sat hearing about how technology is the key to improving instruction.

Too bad more of us don't have Sister de Lourdes's secret--the secret that so many of her students appreciated--even 50 years after sitting in her classroom. Caring. That's all that it was. She cared for her students, and they cared for her. And they credited her with their success, and thanked her for the caring that many of them, especially the boys, had not experienced before.

Because I hadn't been a full-time student of hers, I positioned myself at the edge of the group for much of the reunion, contented with taking pictures and enjoying the exchanges with this lady I know to be so shy, quiet, and fragile. What struck me and stays with me was the number of men--very successful men--who were there to thank her. In fact, the day had been organized by one of the class trouble-makers, who was also one of her greatest admirers. The keynote speaker was another man who would have turned his remarks into a marathon of praise if time had permitted. What had this woman done to make such an impression on 10-year-old boys that 50 years later they wanted to say thank you?

A woman who had returned to Paola for the first time in 40 years just for this occasion gave the answer. Sophie reminded us all of Sister's special gift when she said, "I came back because you were the only person who understood how out of place I felt as a child of first-generation Americans." And then she added, "You always called me 'Child of God,' especially when I did something wrong." That phrase meant so much to her that she raised her children with the same words.

Child of God. What a blessing and what a responsibility. Person after person at the reunion refined the story as they related the personal consequences of being labeled Child of God. She would use it as a reinforcement: "My dear child of God." Or it could be her best effort to control her temper: "Oh, you Child of God." Whatever the tone, they all had received the same message: They were valued. God was with them, and so was she. With that support, they had great potential--and she expected them to use it.

They did. We can only guess at how much her heavy doses of self-esteem affected our lives, but clearly something had happened. For a town as small as Paola, that room was filled with a disproportionate number of the best and the brightest--financial experts, attorneys, medical professions--and average folks like me, too, who have made their own little contributions. She was the teacher that so many of these people regarded as the one who made the difference for them, the one who had set them on the right path as a student, and as a person. In this time when students are filled with so much artificial self-esteem that ends up being equated with a false sense of entitlement, I find it valuable to think about her efforts that came from the heart.

And I hope it wasn't lost on any of us that, in addition to her caring, is a tremendous humility. She really didn't know what to do when we showed her how much we valued her. She just sat on a chair in the middle of the room, looked around at all of us with her shy but mischievous grin, and then said very quietly, "I'm going home to my room, now, and think of each of you."

We're thinking of you now, Sister.

In Search of Truth

I came to the study of the memoir and creative nonfiction more broadly as a result of my interest in genre theory and the way that the issue of genre played out in the James Frey/Oprah debacle. It seemed to me at the time that the deception or misunderstanding, or whatever it was, occurred as a result of different perceptions of truth. My reading about memoir indicates that, indeed, "truth" is a major conundrum for both writers and critics of that genre.

At one level, the fallibility of the writer tweaks truth. Truth is truth as I understand it at this moment. And the interpretation I make of that information is based on my thinking at this time. Tomorrow I may remember more, and that may affect my interpretation of the facts as I understand them.

This is truth as it is available to me. In addition, factors beyond my control may keep me from knowing all the facts--facts that might modify the truth. I appreciated Lynn Z. Bloom's comment that family mores restricted her pursuit of the truth: " I know that I cannot now or ever ask my parents about this Linda [her twin sister, deceased at birth] I have never met" (277). I have felt the same. Perhaps I should have pursued certain aspects of our family story before Mom died, but I would be violating family standards for privacy had I done so. And I would have made Mom think that I thought she was dying.

But what about what I do disclose? Do I use the names Mom recounted to me when I retell her stories, given that many involved cannot now give permission? As Bloom points out, some argue against pseudonyms, saying that the deception is a slippery slope that can move a text toward fiction. Others argue that the value of the narrative is worth the loss of detail. Am I willing to alienate the dead and some of the living in the interest of "truth" that probably wouldn't be damaged by a pseudonym or two (honestly disclosed as such, of course)?

What is the standard, then, for leaving out information? Silence and selectivity are rhetorical choices, Anne Ruggle Gere points out (see my "Silence" posting), but they can also be deceptive if employed unethically. If I characterize someone, must I include warts and all--even though the details may be of marginal relevance to the greater point?

What if my memory conflicts with others'? Must I defer to others? Acknowledge others? Or can my tale be my truth as I remember it? Bloom argues that creative nonfiction should not be compromised by either censorship or consensus (279). On the other hand, she acknowledges that ethical sensibilities may cause writers to compromise, in order to prevent betrayal of damaging secrets, for example. I noted that more than one author in the special issue in which Bloom's article appears wondered what their parents would think if they read what was being written about them.

That's another angle on truth. Does motive matter? Must the story have a purpose in order to be told, especially if the truth will have a potential negative impact on some. As a writer, I might say yes, because the writing is a value in itself. But would I feel the same way if others included me in their stories, knowing only the fragment of me that they encountered? In my memoir draft I write about our neighbors in the palliative care unit--a large family agonizing as their mother battled with the final stages of pancreatic cancer. What if the daughter from that family wrote about me--the woman who was often gone from the dying woman's bedside next door? She wouldn't know that I was juggling a full-time job, Medicare/Medicaid matters, funeral preparations, nursing home vultures trying to usurp my Mom's room, exhaustion, concerns for my family and my pet. She wouldn't know that I was taking breaks to walk with my pet in order to steel myself to keep calm with my mom who had been my house mate and best friend for 29 years.

When I'm tempted to share too much I need to remember what truths I don't know, and when I write, I need to recall the power of writing. It's never harmless, and it's never neutral.

Works Cited

Bloom, Lynn Z. "Living to Tell the Tale: The Complicated Ethics of Creative Nonfiction." College English 65.3 (2003): 276-289.

Gere, Anne Ruggles. "Revealing Silence: Rethinking Personal Writing." College Composition and Communication 53.2 (2001): 203-223.