Karen Offitzer
Assistant Professor of Writing, Institute for Core Studies
First-Year Writing Program, Institute for Writing Studies
M.F.A. in Creative Writing, University of Arizona
M.A., New York University
offitzek@stjohns.edu
Creative Work
My nonfiction books focus on American culture (Diners and
Grand Emporiums, by Metro Books; the Import/Export
Business, by Citadel Press,) and my short fiction and literary
essays explore first person narratives (Alaska Quarterly
Review, Artist and Influence, and Phoebe: A
Journal of Literary Arts). My awards include a National
Endowment of the Arts grant, the Society of Southwest Authors
Award, the American College Outstanding Faculty Award, a California
Council for the Humanities grant, and several University Scholar
Awards. My first documentary, Li’l Hoopster Dreams, a
10-minute short about the role team sports plays in the lives of
young boys, was named best documentary short film at the CSUN
documentary filmmaking screening awards, and my second short,
I’m Not Who You Think I Am, exploring the effect of a
year-long free humanities education program on the lives of those
who were homeless or working poor, received several grants and
awards. My current focus, in both personal essays and academic
research, is on relationships: between siblings, family, friends,
as well as the relationships between students and teachers. I’ve
recently optioned a screenplay (co-written), and a television
series exploring the connection between setting and movie
themes.
In the classroom
I met with an old friend and colleague who said, of her
experience teaching writing at an urban university, that she was
having a year of “teaching dangerously.” I’ve long considered my
own approach to teaching writing as dangerous in some respect, and
had often thought about how providing students with opportunities
to write about their lives has led to essays which often bring up
seemingly dangerous topics: abuse, rape, death – and accompanying
dangerous emotions such as fear, hate, or loss. Much has been
debated about this approach – what is the danger of writing as
therapy, writing as confession, writing as a narcissistic activity?
How do we teach students to reach beyond their own experience and
use carefully chosen words to re-create these experiences for
others? How do these writing exercises help a student learn the
fundamentals? How do we teach students to respond tactfully and
effectively to the confession-laden work of their peers?
While I have yet to come up with any surefire answers to these
questions, I have, in the interim, developed a strong trust in my
ability to infuse my classes with the compassion, enthusiasm, and
sense of community in which strong writing thrives, and have
developed a high comfort level with the discomfort such “dangerous”
writing often invites. Shunryu Suzuki-Roshi, in Zen Mind,
Beginner’s Mind, said, “The best way to control people is to
encourage them to be mischievous. Then they will be in control in
its wider sense. To give your sheep or cow a large, spacious meadow
is the way to control him.” Perhaps the danger of which I entice my
students to partake of is more accurately described as
mischievousness - by giving them the space to wander, to try, to
fail, to analyze, discuss, and revise, they are encouraged to gain
control of their writing and thus become better prepared to pursue
their goals and dreams.