The Courage to Create: Lessons from a Writing Classroom

For fifteen years, I taught university-level writing courses.

During that time, I developed a profound appreciation for developmental writing, which are courses for students who need additional support before they can take Composition 101.

I always had a soft spot for these students because, in many ways, I saw myself in them.

A persistent struggle with mathematics marked my own academic journey.

I managed to reach geometry, but beyond that, numbers and letters blurred into an incomprehensible tangle. The logic eluded me.

Yet, where numbers failed, words thrived.

Creativity and the act of conjuring something from nothing resonated deeply within me.

Throughout my schooling, my mathematical struggles were a source of debilitating shame.

Despite excelling in language arts and being multiple grades ahead of my peers on that level, I was ridiculed for my perceived intellectual shortcomings in math.

However, this struggle proved to be a hidden blessing. It forged a profound connection with my students over the years. I understood their anxieties as writers because I had experienced that same fear and frustration as a math student.

So, what does this have to do with art?

Teaching revealed a fundamental truth: the ability to create freely is an extraordinary gift—a gift not universally possessed.

Late-night paper test

I recall a class of fiction writing students. They were eager to create, yet many were paralyzed by the blank page, unsure how to begin, even with clear prompts.

They were terrified of making mistakes. Terrified of simply putting words down.

The same apprehension was palpable in my developmental writing classes.

Students approached the subject burdened by fear, often recounting stories of past teachers who had shamed them into believing they were inherently poor writers or inadequate students.

In every instance, I committed myself to dismantling that negative narrative.

Today, as an artist, I find myself engaged in a similar process of undoing my own ingrained narratives.

The narrative of the aspiring artist who never truly tried because others insisted I couldn't.

The narrative of being afraid to be seen.

The narrative of “I can’t.”

I’m using this to tap into my innate drive to create something beautiful…because I can.

The act of creation, whether through words or art, is an act of courage.

It is the courage to confront our fears, to challenge the limiting beliefs imposed by others or ourselves, and to embrace the inherent human desire to bring something new and beautiful into existence.

I believe everyone is creative in their own way. And nobody should be barred from it. It’s a human experience everyone deserves, if they want it.

These lessons learned in the classroom—empathy, perseverance, and the transformative power of a supportive environment—they still guide me today wherever I go.

I need them more than ever as I try to prove to myself that my greatest masterpieces will be born from the courage to simply begin.