When I turned 49, I feared that age 50 would come along like a monster in the night and gobble up my youthfulness, relevance, and waistline; my former self replaced by a “Karen” meme in unflattering jeans. Moreover, age 50 carried with it the threat of imminent loss. My children would soon graduate from high school. For 20 years, I had been a mother above all things. Parenthood had shaped my activities, friendships, priorities, and dreams. And, to make matters worse, I was still reeling from loss. An only child, I had been the strength, provider, joy-giver, medical consultant, entertainer, and encourager to my aging parents for many years. When they died a year apart from each other, the load I carried in my late 40’s changed dramatically. I felt both free and bereft. At age 49, I feared that with neither the demands of my children nor my parents, my days would no longer hold purpose. Who was I beneath the responsibility? I did not know.

I hid my 50th birthday from most everyone, including myself, using the camouflage of Covid-19 lockdown to obscure the truth.

An amazing thing has happened during the year that has passed, however; something I never could have predicted. I have cycled right back to the beginning of adulthood. I find that I am 21 again — 30 years later.

When I was 21, I knew my world. I felt completely at home in my little college town, reading Shakespeare in the ironic and moody student art gallery, pulling all-nighters in the quiet study of my church, and drafting papers in the rainbow-hued rose garden, book and highlighter in hand. Wearing my boyfriend’s jeans (cut off and rolled above the knee) with a soft, worn Champion sweatshirt and my permed hair pulled back in a bandana, I felt confident that I belonged. I knew who I was as a student, a friend, and a brand-new adult. . . but I knew it was all about to change upon graduation. The future was exciting but unscripted, unforeseeable, unknown.

30 years later, I once again know my world. I feel completely at home in my role of “Mom,” navigating PTA positions, sporting events, band concerts, and teenage drivers with ease. Wearing my black leggings and comfortable sneakers, my long hair pulled up in a topknot, I feel confident that I belong. I know who I am as a nurturer, a volunteer, and a friend . . . but it is all changing upon each child’s graduation. The future is frightening and unscripted, unforeseeable, unknown.

When I was 21, I was eager to establish myself in a career; but I had no idea how to do so. I knew that I would eventually become a valuable employee — creative and dedicated — and hoped to make a tangible difference in my community. I just didn’t know exactly what that would look like. My sparse resumé, I was certain, did not reflect the breadth of my true value.

At age 51, I am ready for a new career once again. I am certain that I will be a valuable employee — creative and dedicated — and I am committed to making a tangible difference in my community. I just don’t know exactly what that will look like, or how to get there. I am confident that my outdated resumé does not reflect the breadth of my true value.

When I was 21, many of my thoughts found their way to a certain boy, blond-haired and blue-eyed, who played the guitar, valued faith, and treated me kindly. I wondered if our futures, though both unknown, might someday intertwine like two saplings planted close to one another. I hoped that we might have a future together that would include travel, children, and adventure.

At age 51, I find that my thoughts have drifted back to this same boy, though the years of raising children have turned us into two strong trees, independently stretching toward the sunlight after almost 30 years of marriage. I wonder anew what our future looks like as empty nesters. I hope that it will include travel, time with our children, and new adventures.

At both age 21 and 51, life feels unknown, scary, and exciting — a future to embrace and a past to mourn. Both ages are built upon juxtapositions: beginnings and endings, hope and loss, excitement and fear, confidence and insecurity.

A lot has transpired in these 30 years, however. Although the circumstances are similar, I am a different person today than I was at age 21. I can barely remember that girl, so full of confidence and self-assurance. In the 30 years that have passed, I have encountered the heavy shadow of depression and have learned to carry it with me without allowing it to pull me down. I have done the hard work required of therapy and have learned what it takes to live a happy life while coexisting with the shadow. I have felt the hopelessness of infertility, sobbing with my husband when all medical interventions failed. I have been forever changed by the three women who, in faith and hope, allowed their babies to become my children. I am humbled daily by the gift of motherhood and the loving sacrifice that made it possible.

Twice, I have crawled into a hospital bed and cried like a toddler at the side of one who loved me beyond reason, as only a parent can do. Through tears, I have recounted stories, thanked my parents for a lifetime of love, and sung them into Heaven.

I have fought with my husband, given and received forgiveness, and been humbled by his patient and consistent love. I have made good friends who have stuck to me like glue, dismissed friends who have hurt me, and learned to discern the difference. I have lived through times where it has been easy to have faith in God and mankind, and times when it hasn’t. These 30 years have molded me into my current self: a strong woman who is creative, fun-loving, honest, slightly broken, and completely imperfect.

I am not the same girl I was at age 21. I am better. I am weather-worn but strong. I have withstood hardships and survived. I have seen the best in the people around me and the best in myself. I am stronger, wiser, kinder, more patient, and more grateful than the 21-year-old I once was.

When I was 21, I waved goodbye to friends as we all departed for different parts of the world. My comfort and routine were shattered. The art gallery, rose garden, and church study were no longer mine to frequent. I panicked a bit, grieving the loss and fearing the unknown. Eventually, though, I found new friends, new adventures, and new flower gardens. I embraced my new freedom by learning to belly dance and throw pottery. I found a volunteer activity that breathed new life into me and a career that I loved. I became happy once again.

At age 51, I rarely see the friends I once encountered regularly on my kids’ school campus. The structure of my days has changed. I panicked a bit at first, grieving the loss and fearing the unknown. Eventually, though, I have seized the opportunities provided by my new freedom. I have taken up weightlifting, volunteering in the community, rekindling old friendships, teaching, and writing. I am working toward a master’s degree and developing a new career. When I speak with my children, I am thrilled by the stories they have to tell and the routines they are creating on their own college campuses. Older children are delightful, it turns out. And as a bonus, there is far less laundry for me to do.

Now that my eyes are open to it, I see inspiration all around me. One friend got her General Contractor’s license. Another has taken up art. Many have made a life-changing commitment to the next generation through tutoring or charitable endeavors. Several have embarked on new careers, and many, like me, are pursuing graduate degrees. We are seizing the opportunity to reinvent ourselves as writers, therapists, photographers, nutritionists, and designers. The future is ours and we didn’t even know it.

So, here’s to being 21 again . . . but better. It turns out that the monsters have not gobbled me up after all. I have turned, planted my feet, and rebuffed their efforts with the stubborn, experienced strength of a seasoned mother who has seen it all. I have won, for now. I will never become a “Karen” meme, and my jeans, at least for the moment, are still on trend. I feel youthful, relevant, strong, and purposeful at age 51 (even if my waistline is a little worse for the wear) and I am much better off without that smelly perm.

Though the monsters may someday return, and hardships will likely hit me once again like a punch in the gut, today I feel optimistic and free. It feels great to be 21 again — 30 years later.

Kristen Eshleman is a writer and school theater choreographer who is currently working toward a master’s degree in Teaching Writing from Johns Hopkins University. She teaches writing workshops, volunteers with English language learners in her community, and is a host for the Moms Don’t Have Time to Move and Shake podcast. She has three children and a cute but mischievous dog. She is pleased to be 21 again and hopes to embrace all that this time in life has to offer. Kristen can be found at penpalsstorycenter on Instagram and penpalsstorycenter.com.

As a teacher of English as a Second Language, the adults I teach are extremely nervous about being in an English-speaking classroom. One student recently walked into my classroom, arms protectively crossed in front of her. I smiled at her welcomingly (I hoped), and said, “Hi!” She looked terrified, took a few steps backwards, held her hands in front of her and said, “No habla!” I continued to try to engage her in the simplest and friendliest manner, but she looked around her, hoping for escape and continued her mantra until I had mercy on her, smiled, and turned to someone else. My students, although they have been in the United States for years (and sometimes even decades), can speak very little English. Their children serve as their translators in most situations, and they traverse their new hometown terrified of encountering questions directed at them in English. I turned to digital compositions in an attempt to bridge the gap for these students, making English more approachable and less intimidating. In doing so, I have learned 3 very important things:

1) Pop Culture is a great instructor

2) Emojis are a universal language

3) Digital technologies can help

We once spent an entire evening in our class trying to help students fill out a sample job application form. Every line was a challenge. At the end of the evening, we instructors burst into song when we found out that it was a student’s birthday. Every student joined us in song — in English. I was amazed. They know how to sing “Happy Birthday to You?” With time, I also learned that children new to the country can sing “Let it Go” from Disney’s Frozen, and young adults learn English from playing Call of Duty alongside English-speaking players. My students could look at emojis and call out “angry face!” or “happy face!” in English when we had not yet taught them any of those words. They exclaimed, “dog!” when I showed them pictures of my pet, and every student in my class eagerly showed me their TikTok account. So, I set about trying to use TikTok to teach English. I included popular music, written text, spoken words, graphics, and pictures of my dog in order to demonstrate the words “in front of” “behind” and others. It has received hundreds of views, including the comment “cute dog” from one of my students.

The next thing I attempted was to use the website, Buncee, in order to create an e-book for my students with an immersive reader. The immersive reader will allow students to translate each word into the language of their choosing, break each word down by syllable, help with English pronunciation, and define words with images and definitions. I have also created a presentation in Canva that allows me to demonstrate the meaning of various words through video, music, photos, text and graphic illustrations. I was able to upload this presentation into Buncee and couple it with the immersive reader for a double punch. I added as many emojis as I could. 😀 My class has now ended, and I have not had a chance to test out my new materials on the next batch of students, but I am hopeful that I am onto something that will make a difference in our lessons together. I am on the lookout for cartoons, children’s books, memes, GIFs, and pop songs that my students and I can explore together, ideally with lessons recorded in an immersive reader. I have just learned that “No se habla de Bruno” (De “Encanto”) is #15 on YouTube Music’s global charts, so I can pretty much guarantee that “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” will be my next immersive composition. There are plenty of fun things a former choreographer can do with that!

I believe that using various modes of communication and digital composition will make my lessons more effective, more interesting, and less frightening. No more crossed arms and panicked looks . . . let’s hope.

Purpose.

Well, isn’t that just the problem? “Purpose” is a question without a question mark. It asks what, how and why. Especially why. It is the word that trips me up nowadays. I have purposefully pursued a life that has recently deposited me into middle age (north of it if I am to be honest) without direction. So, where does that leave me now? Purposefully pursuing purpose, I guess, by asking all the questions held in that one word: Why am I doing the things I do? How can I make a difference in the world? What is my purpose for the next decade or two? And truthfully, I have no idea what the answers are.

This is my truth at age 50.

I have previously had purpose in my life. A person of faith, my purpose has been to be a good representative of Christianity, a mentor to younger people, an encourager, a teacher. In my late 20’s my purpose was to become a mom, though the struggle of infertility altered that purpose for a while, leading me to also find purpose in carrying the emotional burden for others who shared that path with me. For 20+ years following that phase, my purpose, thankfully, became to mother 3 children. It is the true purpose of my life, I believe, the most involved, life-altering, all-encompassing, important, and fulfilling thing I will ever do. There was also purpose in caring for my parents as they aged, struggled with health concerns, and ultimately passed. For over twenty years I have had little time or need to ponder purpose beyond my family.

And yet, here I am. Trying to discover my purpose in life once again at age 50.

I know many women who have discovered a new purpose in life through grandparenting around age 60 or 65. It is more of a second parenting, really: installing car seats in their sedans and baby gates on their stairs. But today is not that day for me. I likely have another decade or so before I begin to fill my house with primary colors and plastic once again, if I choose to do so at all. Today, I still feel young, capable, heathy, and momentarily unencumbered. I don’t want to waste this time. I want to live with purpose, embracing my strength and potential, and using it to help my community. I have something great to offer. I just know it.

The problem is that I find myself without clear direction, and when I think I find that direction, other people look at my blank resume and somehow fail to consider me quite the catch that I consider myself. “Oh,” I think, “I could do that job easily.” No, I haven’t done it exactly like that before. No, Mail Chimp didn’t exist when I last carried a briefcase. Neither did social media, for that matter. Or GIFs, or memes, or YouTube or TikTok. But I can use all of those things. Sure, I can make a spreadsheet, organize personnel, lead a meeting, inspire students. I can do amazing things. I HAVE been doing amazing things for 20 years. I just haven’t been paid for them. I am creative and smart and full of potential. But there is the issue of that blank resume . . .

I know what I WANT my purpose to be. So many things. Too many things, actually. I want to help people to be their best selves. I want to inspire adults to tell their stories in writing. I want to support refugees as they attempt to start a new life. I want to help non-native speakers learn English so that they can achieve the life the desire. I want to help kids to become the first college student in their family and to thrive once they get there. I want to use a combination of words, technology and creativity to help marginalized students feel successful and empowered in school. I want to help teenagers to find their true selves and battle the threat of depression and anxiety through introspective writing. I want to be creative myself by writing, teaching, and thinking outside of the box. I want to continue to create things like podcasts, blog posts, and helpful TikTok videos. I want to make people of all ages love writing. I want to inspire people, encourage them, and become an ally, a safe space, an advocate. But how?

I have a voice but no microphone. A syllabus but no students. An inspirational message but no one to inspire. I have great ideas but no purpose.

I am currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Teaching Writing through Johns Hopkins University. “That is purpose,” you may say. Yes, true. But there is a problem. The biggest difficulty I have found in the program is not in acclimating to the technology. Nor is it in studying, producing, or thinking critically. The problem is not in meeting deadlines or managing my time. No, my problem is purpose. Each article I read and discussion I post needs to reflect purpose: how I can use this lesson in my classroom, with my students, for my audience. I have no classroom, no students, and no audience. I am told to imagine how I MIGHT use the things I learn in a classroom in which I MIGHT teach, but I find that without a clear purpose, those students are hard to conjure up in my imagination. Are they teenagers? Adults? Seniors? Do they speak English? Spanish? I don’t know, and my work reflects that.

Tonight, I reviewed my digital compositions for the final portfolio of the semester and found that my creations are all missing something. Oh, I used innovative technology. I used multiple modes of communication and created compositions of which I am extremely proud. It turns out that I can make a great podcast, ESL tool for TikTok, or visual composition designed to inspire students. I have kicked ass, if I do say so myself. The problem is that it is all for naught. I have no students to inspire, no listeners to chuckle at my podcast, no adults who are chomping at the bit to write, no students who want to create inspirational word art, no friends who are dying to try out blackout poetry. Oh, I have tried. I have offered myself to my social media followers, become a volunteer with community organizations, sought out senior centers, applied for jobs. But I have gotten nowhere. Of course, the pandemic doesn’t help. And my compositions feel the absence. As I have reviewed them all, I find that they consistently beg the questions: “Who is your audience?” and “What is your purpose?” All question marks. No exclamation points.

I have loved learning about how digital and multimodal compositions are useful in the classroom. I was thrilled to read the new position paper released this week by the NCTE about the need for new literacies that embrace media education and digital compositions in the English classroom. I read it and thought, “Yes! I know this! I have learned this! Let’s go get those students by being innovative in the classroom and engaging them in the digital world in which they live. Let’s embrace multiple literacies in students of all ages.” These are exciting times in education. Will I have a part in that? If so, will it be in the classroom? The community? On-line? Through TikTok? We’ll see.

I will continue to pursue purpose. Let’s hope I find it quickly, as time is not unlimited. Despite how it may sound, I do not feel sorry for myself. I will not give up. No, I am determined, motivated, and steeled for the quest. I WILL find purpose, and I will thrive. I will contribute something meaningful to this world. Just watch me. This is 50. Now is the time.

As seen in the article, Exploring Digital Literacy Practice in an Inclusive Classroom by Detra Price-Dennis, Kathlene Holmes and Emily Smith,

Exploring Digital Literacy Practices in an Inclusive Classroom

use of such software as GarageBand can help students with learning differences to successfully create and edit oral narration, musical effects, and spoken interviews, allowing the use of spoken word in place of or in conjunction with written texts. ComicStrip Generator or other graphic software can help students to think outside of the standard paragraph form in order to use color, space, and perspective powerfully and emotionally for the purpose of telling an effective story in a non-traditional visual manner. StopMotion Animation apps allow students to create a digital story with movement and scripted voiceovers. A student uses critical thinking skills as well as story-telling narrative in such a situation in order to think through creation and production in innovative and effective ways that may be more effective and engaging for these students than traditional methods. Students with learning differences should not be left out of technological advances in the classroom, as they may find that an innovative approach is more appropriate and engaging than any they have previously encountered.

Additionally, lessons can become even more powerful if created for an audience, and technology allows educators new opportunities to do just that. Parents, fellow students, and the community at large can share in the success of students and learn from their endeavors when multimodal compositions are shared on a blog, website or social media forum. As we see in the video, Today’s Reasons Why We Need Students to Write for Authentic Audiences by Katie McKay,

Today's Reasons Why We Need Students to Write for Authentic Audiences

this can also be done by allowing the public to engage with student productions via QC Code and/or simply posting the student work and codes at a popular community meeting place or library. Doing so allows families and community members to become active participants in the education and accomplishments of the students and requires students to think through their purpose in relation to an audience or public forum. Students must then consider how to best use their voice and influence through various modes of communication in order to not only impress, but possibly enact social change on a topic for which they are passionate. This practice can be especially meaningful for students who feel overlooked and unheard due to learning differences or social and economic disadvantages.

Students are asked to think beyond the classroom when they are given the opportunity to consider their own experiences in society and the politics that affect them. The article, Beyond Fake News; Culturally Relevant Media Literacies for a Fractured Civic Landscape (Nicole Mirra, Lauren Leigh Kelly & Antero Garcia (2021) (10.1080/00405841.2021.1983316) suggests that students, particularly those who are marginalized in society and education, can learn to effectively engage in political and cultural conversation while also learning to listen to and respect varying opinions with civic empathy. The authors suggest that educators engage students in considering, “who are we as individuals and how are we connected as a community? What possibilities and tensions do I experience in my communities? How are they shaping who I am in the world?” Educators can engage and interest students in powerful civic ways by encouraging them to develop and use their voice in order to create change. Using multimodal techniques such as those suggested previously in this article, educators can assist students in grappling with these relevant questions, creating a safe forum for honest conversation, hearing alternate viewpoints, understanding bias in media and society, using social media in ways that are productive, and speaking out on items for which they develop a passion. Students can engage with society in a variety of ways beyond the traditional research or persuasive paper in ways that both create interest and relevance in students and produce compositions of value to the community as a whole. Creating and sharing these findings by use of multimodal compositions including song, story, photography, spoken word, social media, blog and video will allow student composers to use their creativity, personal strengths and daily experiences in order to communicate effectively. In doing so, they will learn a variety of educational and real life skills through scripting, creating, editing and producing a creative composition that is more a reflection of the student than the teacher or the educational system. When students are given the opportunity to be rise as the author of their own story, everyone benefits from the results.

Sadly, black girls, in particular, are disadvantaged in both society and academics. According to Brown Girls Dreaming: Adolescent Black Girls’ Futuremaking through Multimodal Representations of Race, Gender, and Career Aspirations by Jennifer Turner and Autumn Griffin:

NCTE - National Council of Teachers of English

in English classrooms, Black girls are rendered invisible in canonical texts and Eurocentric curricula (Griffin & James, 2018), erased by the silencing of their voices, dreams, knowledge, and textual interpretations (Carter, 2006). Distorted images of Black girls as illiterate, loud, aggressive, and disrespectful permeate English classrooms (Henry, 1998; Kinloch, 2010; Price-Dennis et al., 2017; Sealey-Ruiz, 2016), which ultimately minimize Black girls’ literate potential, marginalize their intersectional identities, and perpetuate society’s visions of fractured and tragic futures for Black girls and women.

Allowing black girls to have expanded access to technology, STEM-based curriculum, role models who are pioneers in typically white or male careers, and vision-building exercises, educators can stop silencing a population that can and should have a strong and powerful impact on society. Digital storytelling practices can allow these students to have increased access to technological tools and an avenue for their voice. Black girls can explore gender inequity and racial unfairness in a safe space while allowing themselves to look to and consider a future that breaks barriers. They can create a space in which they can use hashtags, social media involvement and other digital tools to challenge misconceptions about their own lives and take ownership over their futures. They can do so by creating multimodal vision boards, experimenting with engineering and science, having forums for safe discussion, being encouraged to dream big, and engaging in conversation about their desires and goals. They should be given early access to technological tools and provided opportunities to use their voice through those tools. Black girls need equitable access to and preparation for STEM careers and futures beyond service industries. They need an avenue for their voice, a mode for communicating their stories and dreams, and the opportunity to think creatively and critically. Black girls, in particular, deserve more than they currently receive from both the educational system and society as a whole.

All students can benefit from adding photography, art, music, poetry, song lyrics, and graphics to their personal stories and by introducing their audience to their communities, families and cultural symbols and celebrations. Doing so will allow students to invest in their schoolwork, feel heard and understood, and pour themselves into something that they feel is necessary and relevant. Educators should not attempt to provide appropriate cultural inclusions in an otherwise euro-centric curriculum but should allow the students, themselves, to be the authors and contributors of relevant text, including the lyrics and poetry already present in their world. In the process, students will learn who they are, who they hope to become, and how to communicate effectively while using a variety of digital tools. Students will begin to see and understand one another with greater interest and empathy and express themselves in a forum that allows them to express civic frustrations, listen to those of others and develop solutions.

The world is full of multimodal text. So full, in fact, that I am only just now noticing it. TikTok videos, Reels, ads, PSAs, on-line news publications, graphic text, menus with QR codes, and Super Bowl ads are all considered multi-modal works because they deliver information in a variety of ways. There are video- and text-based silent ads that can not rely on sound because they appear muted on social media, and Instagram “stories” that include video, text and music together to create a punch. The vocabulary assignments my son receives give examples in audio, video, print and meme, often sampling from popular culture. I have recently subscribed to the New York Times online and find that some of their articles appear in cartoon format, some completely graphically illustrated, some in video form and others with print accompanied by charts, graphics and multiple links. Multi-modality is everywhere! Here are some examples that I encountered this week.

I read a vignette about Cheetos Flamin’ Hots recently and was fascinated to see that the piece linked to an article about a side character the author wanted to introduce rather than repeat that information in her own piece. It was a great use of multimodality that made the vignette a concise and efficient read in which the author conveyed the necessary information without losing her voice in a digression. In a piece that was really about the pain of not fitting in, she provided some interesting background information without breaking the tone of her piece.

Cheetos Flamin' Hots Made Me Who I Am

On the other hand, I exclaimed “Brillliant!” to the room when I saw the Super Bowl ad for Coinbase last week that contained nothing more than a bouncing, multi-colored QR code. I wasn’t the only one. The ad was so popular that it caused Coinbase’s app to crash for about an hour. It limited its modality on a day when everyone else let their’s fly. There were no pop songs, no actors, no CGI action sequences. Coinbase merely employed the simple but powerful tools of nostalgia and curiosity. In doing so, they made ME do the active work of pursuing THEM — through multimodality. They got my attention by employing mode in a whole new way. Brilliant.

Coinbase's strange QR-code Super Bowl ad briefly crashes app - CNN Business

I was equally fascinated by a video opinion piece by Lindsay Crouse, Kirby Ferguson and Emily Holzknecht in the New York Times this week about what we have all lost in the “new normal” due to the pandemic. It was a powerful video made by combining VoiceOver text, TikTok photos and videos, music, and stock images. It is one of the most movingly relatable productions I have seen come out of the pandemic. Though the creators are skilled filmmakers, their production is one that most of us could model. It is a great example of how multimodality can create an emotional text with powerful brevity.

Opinion | Grieving Our Old Normal

I was also interested in seeing how the creators handled attributions in this composition. This is what they put on the final screen of their video:

One final example I found interesting this week was a piece called Write It In Garamond by R.E. Hawley about the use of fonts in writing. I found it charming, relatable and interesting in light of discussions of modality, use of space, font and color in order to convey mood and purpose in alphabetic text. I have included the link out also highlighted my favorite part below.

Write It in Garamond

Then, a few months ago, while I was looking at a long-term project I’d been working on in fits and starts, my cursor meandered toward the word processor’s font menu, and with one click the text reappeared in Garamond. I nearly gasped. Dressed in gentle serifs and subtle ornamentation, my words swelled with new life, and I saw hidden in the screen behind them the reflection of someone else, someone whose presence commanded respect.

It’s a little ridiculous to have to trick myself into believing in my own work, and even more ridiculous that I can be tricked so simply, like a child enraptured at a magic act.

But creative output of any kind depends upon a steady stream of tiny self-delusions — guardrails to keep yourself from veering into a pit of self-doubt and despair. Mind-set is blessedly malleable: We put on our best outfits not because we’re going somewhere, but simply to look in the mirror and will ourselves to feel as good as we look. So I continue to “select all” in my word documents and, for a moment, let myself believe that my words are as beautiful as the typeface in which they appear.

I was thankful to learn that even professionals have insecurites. If the can be solved through font selection, all the better!

Each of the examples above have served as great mentor texts this week in demonstrating how to make my own pieces with power, emotion, simplicity, and appropriate attributions. Personallly, I have posted my projects for this class on my PenPalsStoryCenter page on Instagram as well as other social media sites, and have found that the videos and graphics I create lead to more “likes” and conversation than mere words. Even people who don’t comment on-line will often tell me in person that they like what I have done. It is interesting to see what catches a person’s attention as they scroll. Sometimes, I think, a post that looks too professional is overlooked as an “ad.” It is tricky. The discussions we have had of genre will play into this quandary, I believe. Know your audience.

I have also used multimodality effectively these past two weeks in my ESL classes. It is very difficult to teach the word “aunt” to non-English speakers while only speaking English. I have used the tools I have learned recently in order to create cartoons, posters and family trees that do a much better job of explaining than I could do with words and gestures (although gestures themselves are another mode of communication). I can’t wait to use emojis to teach emotions!

There are great ways to use multimodal compositions in society. I am excited to be learning the art in my Masters program in Teaching Writing at Johns Hopkins University and seeing it at work in every form of communication. I will look forward to using these skills in the future when I teach adults how to “compose” their own stories. Our lives are full of vibrance and emotion. Using multiple modes will help us to be better story tellers and sharers.