FAQ: You know

I like to talk with the writers that come in. I like to see if how well they know what they wrote about before we look at the works they put on the page. That gives me a idea of the handle they have on their ideas, or if they have one at all.

Inevitably, I get students to tell me about their subject. They start talking and they do this thing that many people do when they talk: they insert "you know" into their discourse.

Sometimes I let one, two, three slide by, and then I stop them. Other times, I just jump right in when they sneak the first "you know" in. I point out the tic, which they rarely notice, and make sure they pause for a second to realize that they just said "you know."

After that, I tell them that I do not in fact know. I don't know anything about their family Christmas gatherings or the time they got a scar while trying to stop a liquor store robbery. I don't know anything about the layout of their room or their choice of study space. I don't know their mothers, friends, teachers, or the other significant people who pop up as the subjects of their essays.

I wasn't there. I haven't spent time with those people. I do not know.

I realize that these students are not consciously referring to my knowledge, but they are subconsciously hoping that I will nod my head, say "uh-huh, I do know," and let them stay on the surface of their subject. I want them to be consciously aware that I have no idea what they are telling me--but I am interested in the details that are buried in their head if they would do a little digging.

After we break down what they know and I do not, they usually have a better understanding of what they need to provide so I can learn. I like to tell them that what is obvious to them is not obvious to others, so they should write what seems obvious. That way we can learn. And know.