It's probably not surprising that I'm a big fan of Powerful Writers, a writing enrichment program that is an offshoot of the Powerful Schools initiative in the Seattle Public Schools. That said, my love affair with Powerful Writers has, to date, been mostly from a distance and in my imagination (much like my love affair with Johnny Depp) - I swear that I just don't have the time to volunteer like I want to, as a writing coach in my daughter's classroom. But I do try to stay involved....

And now, I'm more committed than ever (which, again, may not be as much as I wish.)

Here's what happened. My daughter came to me and asked for permission to skip ballet last Wednesday, (her love affair with ballet also exists entirely in my imagination) so that she could do open Mic night. I looked at my funky kid and pictured her with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth in a dimly lit bar, taking deep inhales and exhaling promises to revolt against "the man." She's 9. What on earth could open mic night be for a 9 year old?

On a Wednesday night, 36 children and their parents gathered in the neighborhood Starbucks and each of them read a story, poem or essay that they wrote. I think I cried 36 times. (Maybe a few extras, just to grown on.)

Looking through the crowd, I regained some of that faith that I occasionally lose in humanity. I think that just about every conceivable ethnicity was represented in those reading their work. From age 6 to 10, there were boys and girls, from all over the world. My blonde haired daughter read after her friend who is a recent Somali immigrant and was in full Muslim garb, alongside their friend who had just returned from a trip to visit family in Viet Nam, alongside a friend who's 2 moms watched on baited breath with their other kids in their lap.

This is what the world should look like. And you know what, it is. This IS what the world looks like. We are all that different, that diverse and, here's the big news, we all have something to say and deserve to be heard.

Which is where Powerful Writers and the opportunity to be heard in this setting comes in to play. Looking at my own daughter, for instance.... She's is a great writer. In fact, far more comfortable with words than she is with pretty much anything else, (um, I wonder where she gets that?) But she HATES to "perform," or in any way stand in front of a crowd. Although I may not want her to be a movie star, I do want her to be comfortable stating her case in any way necessary - whether it's a job interview, a political protest or a peer pressure situation in which she is presented with an opportunity to do something that she knows is wrong.

Powerful Writers works with the kids to write in a variety of ways. The point of writing is, of course, self-expression. I know I'm an obsessive Shakespeare quoter, but I always return to the line from the Tempest when Caliban says to Prospero, "you taught me language, and my profit on it is that I can curse you."

Indeed, there is no other way to effectively bring about social change or personal justice than to be able to express an effective argument and propose a solution.

So, as "cute" as the little girl was who read a piece about Civil Rights leaders, when I listened to her read her piece, I saw a future civil rights leader. A child, who at the age of 10, was able to express things that mattered and present them to an eager public in a way that engaged them. I saw a child who had been given the tools to change the world.

As "cute" as the little girl who read a piece about love and compassion was, what I saw was a 9 year-old who was able to think through her emotions and express them. That means she can grow into an adult who can greet discord with compassion, express love and caring for people in her life, set an example for dealing honestly with her feelings and the feelings of those in her life.

As "cute" as the boy was who read a piece about planning his birthday party, what I really saw was a child who was able to express the details necessary to achieve the task of planning a party, but also express how good it feels to give and share.

And more than ANY of that, looking around the room, I saw my neighbors, my community and my future. We were all there for our children, and for each other. You know that "town square" that everyone bemoans the absence of? That community that people say has been replaced with computers? That's where I was last Wednesday, and there was nothing virtual about it - it was very real.

These lessons are not part of most school curriculums. Thank goodness programs like Powerful Writers exist.

Now, the businesswoman in me also needs to point out that all of this took place at Starbucks. They didn't have to do much, really, except allow us to be there. But in so doing, they allowed the recreation of that fabled Norman Rockwell community that people insist is slipping away in the flotsam and jetsam of our modern lives. This event cost Starbucks virtually nothing - whatever 36 free hot chocolates to kids who read cost. What they got out of it was what we all got out of it:

Membership in an engaged community committed to a shared vision of the world we can create together.

That's powerful.

(Oh, as for my daughter. She, read. A little. She wrote a 6 page story about why she loves her cat. She read 4 sentences. That was enough for her. But, as her mother, that was 4 sentences more than I though she would do, and I was sooooo proud of her. Progress is progress, no matter how small.)