An Arrest in Russia

II Tyler Gillespie II

 

A student told me police officers once arrested him in Russia. Born in Iran, he had worked as a journalist in his country, then moved to Russia for graduate school and found work at a newspaper. Police officers, he said, shot up his office and arrested reporters who had covered a gay pride parade. The Russian government apparently wanted to silence their operation.

“I didn’t speak Russian,” he said, “but I signed some papers, and they let me out.”

As writing consultants, we sometimes get to know students on a more personal level than tutors in other disciplines. We look over cover letters, personal statements, and teaching philosophies; these documents ask applicants to reveal themselves.

The student had finished his studies in Russia and moved to sunny Florida – the opposite of Russian tundra – to pursue his PhD. He’d chosen the university at which I’m a writing consultant because of the institution’s ties to Middle Eastern studies.

In passing, I’d told him I work as a freelance journalist. His Russian arrest story made me wide-eyed. I admired his reporting efforts. He told me about it casually, like a comment on the weather. He didn’t dwell on the story. We needed to get back to work on his paper, a piece for publication on the crisis in Syria and other failed nation-states.

Our sessions immediately after his arrest story felt the most productive. I helped him with sentence structure, organization, and ways to strengthen his arguments.

Over the semester, this student became one of my “regulars” and booked weekly sessions with me. We became friendly, and I saw him as a colleague. The line between colleague and consultant blurred with this journalist-turned-PhD student. One day, I offhandedly offered to put him in touch with a professor who I thought could help his research. I did this without thinking twice. Later, I questioned if the offer was ethical for confidentiality reasons, because I’d have to talk about this student to someone outside of the Studio.

Our friendly progression was cool for me as I got to talk shop with an international journalist. He too told me he enjoyed our sessions, in part, because of their relaxed nature (he asked for suggestions on places to get his haircut). I looked forward to seeing him each week as it meant I’d get to learn a little bit more about him, about his culture.

As the weeks progressed, though, I noticed a trend. He seemed to rely on my opinion more than when he first came in to the Studio. In our most recent session, he asked, “How does that sound?” after every sentence.

In that moment, I thought we might have reached a point of diminishing returns. This is a moment many consultants and “regulars” may face: When a consultant becomes no longer helpful, and more of a hindrance. An over-reliance can prove harmful, some argue, because the writers may feel less sure of themselves. I hope to always help writers feel more autonomous, not less.

But, is the communal bond — one that can help ease writing anxiety — just as useful?

 

I thought I should tell him he might need a different consultant, but then I remembered our conversations. I decided that would be unfair to him—that I just needed to be a better consultant. I needed to use a new strategy.

I redirected the session from the particular paper with something like, “how can I help make you feel more confident in your work?” I hadn’t planned on this workshop approach, and I initially thought he might get annoyed, as it didn’t directly affect the paper he brought into the studio.

His reaction, though, proved the opposite. He said as a non-native speaker he feels insecure about verb tenses. He asked specific questions about tenses, then wrote down examples we came up with together. The physical act seemed to help him as he could make marks on the paper such as arrows to remind him of word placement.

I watched him record our sentences — our collaboration — on a piece of paper. We both contributed to the work. We both made something new together.

 

Author Bio:

Tyler Gillespie is a pale Floridian who consults in The Writing Studio at the University of South Florida. His reporting has appeared in Rolling Stone, GQ, Vice, The Guardian, and Salon, among other places.

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