Benny’s Story: Finding Voice and Power Through Writing

I asked my students to write a personal essay — a story only they could tell — with rising tension and a clear beginning, middle, and end. Simple instructions. But then came Benny.

Benny had arrived at our large city university from a rural community in North Carolina. Many of my students came from similar backgrounds, but Benny’s writing revealed deep struggles: he hadn’t yet mastered even basic subject-verb agreement. His sentences sputtered and broke apart like a puzzle missing key pieces.

When Benny first met with me, he was petrified. “I’m going to flunk, right?” he asked. He wanted me to know he was good at math. I sensed he’d long avoided English classes, treating them as useless — like harp lessons for a Beluga whale.

Despite the tangled language, Benny’s essay shone through with the weight of his large heart. I asked him to tell me the story aloud. Suddenly, his words came alive, raw and powerful. I was spellbound.

“Benny, this is going to be one of the most important stories in our class,” I told him. But he’d have to read it aloud for his final grade, and he needed to learn the grammar that had eluded him for years. “It’s up to you,” I said.

Benny asked to meet regularly. We set appointments, and he never missed one. He visited the campus writing center and, for the first time, cracked open a writing manual. He taught himself the grammar and structure needed to make his story clear. I kept nudging him toward completion.

By semester’s end, Benny stood before the class and read from his portfolio — a personal story of racism and quiet heroism, with himself at the center, waging war through kindness and courage. He had built a beachhead of friendship that rallied support for a persecuted minority group on campus. At first, he was the only one standing up for them. The story held scandal, threats to safety, and drama worthy of a thriller.

But it ended in triumph: the stigmatized students gained acceptance. Benny was the hero of his own story — though he didn’t realize it until his classmates erupted in applause. Tissue boxes were passed around, as Benny’s honesty had opened their eyes — and sometimes that causes tears.

He was stunned. No longer worried about passing, Benny had discovered not just a story voice, but his reason to write. He had found the power of connection. He had made us see.

Shepherding others to write, edit, or revise is about more than grammar and structure; it’s about helping the writer find their voice and discover the power within their stories. Benny reminded me that even when the fundamentals are missing, the heart and courage to tell one’s truth can transform not only a piece of writing — but a life. Every writer has a story worth telling, and sometimes all they need is someone to listen and believe.