February 2007: An Anniversary (cont.)

When I was first asked to teach in the new program, I hesitated. A graduate program—any graduate program—is expensive. What, I wondered, would our students get for their four semesters, five residencies of time and money spent? What would their degrees mean? Editors aren’t interested in degrees, only in the manuscripts before them. And academia isn’t noted for its openness to children’s literature, either to studying it or writing it, so I didn’t see doors being swung wide for our graduates who might want to teach. I pushed through my hesitation and gave the program a try, though, and it didn’t take me long to understand.

I have been working with developing writers for thirty years, but I soon realized that at Vermont College I was seeing something entirely new. Our students’ writing grew at an astounding rate! Part of the reason, of course, is a simple one. The students who come to us are, every one, deeply committed to their writing. Not to having written—lots of people think that is a nice idea—but to the actual act of writing. They come to us having agreed to spend a minimum of twenty-five hours a week on their writing and reading, and most spend much, much more. Some come already published, ready to move to a new genre or to a new level of seriousness with their work. Others have been writing for years and are teetering on the edge of their first acceptance.