By: Anthony Feckey
Today, we discuss Peter Stenson’s writing process, the empathy he aims to impart via his stories, and his insights on the mental health issues facing today’s college students. Peter’s work has been impacted by his own experiences. Peter, a professor, has a distinct perspective on the difficulties young adults face, particularly those who went through high school during the epidemic. He discusses how to build relationships in the classroom and the value of establishing a welcoming environment for learning.
Peter manages to juggle his love of writing, teaching duties, and family life despite his hectic schedule. Come along as we explore Peter Stenson’s thinking and learn how his experiences motivate his creativity and his desire to establish a very personal connection with readers.
You have been upfront about your own struggles with various mental health concerns. Do these experiences also color your characters?
Yes. How could they not? I’ve dealt, and continue to deal, with some of these issues. While I’m fortunate to have been clean for a long time, I still deal with those mental health issues that probably led to or exasperated my addiction in the first place. Depression, anxiety, body issues. Sexual stuff. So, yes, my characters get to also deal with some of those things.
You’re welcome, thank me later! Have fun working your menial retail job while you’re besieged with thoughts of…I don’t need to get into specifics, but bad thoughts, all bent on self-destruction.
But I think these are important things to examine. For myself, for sure, a sort of therapeutic expelling of demons, but also for a reader. Maybe there’s some recognition there. Maybe there’s some exercise in empathy. And that would be nice, yeah?
Empathy- hmm, sometimes I forget what that is. It would be nice to feel more of that, wouldn’t it?
Yes, I think we could use more people flexing that empathetic muscle of theirs, which, at this current moment, has all but atrophied.
That’s actually a good segue into your profession as a professor. You’ve discussed the mental health crisis you’re noticing in your students. What are you seeing?
Exactly what you characterized it as a mental health crisis. I’m specifically talking about a microgeneration of kids who were in high school during the pandemic. Basically, the last four years of college freshmen. They are struggling. Immensely so.
Of course, this was the trajectory Gen Z was already on, but man, it took a sharp turn upwards over the past few years. From schoolwork to attendance to attitudes to willingness to verbally discuss things to anxiety to depression to addiction. All of it. Kind of like a profound sense of isolation. It’s imbued in it.
Do you have any suggestions for how to face this crisis?
Smarter people than I are working on that.
What is your solution in the classroom?
Connection. I mean, this isn’t exactly groundbreaking pedagogy, but I think it kind of boils down to establishing a genuine connection with the students. I had an experience during the fall of 2020. Things had shut down the previous spring. At the university where I teach, things were still buttoned up tightly. The only people on campus were freshmen. We had a class of 24 in a massive lecture hall, six feet between every student.
I was in the middle of a lecture when I looked out at my students. They were masked and glassy-eyed. They paid attention, but they weren’t really, you know? Like they would have had the same look and moving pencils taking notes if I were listing batting averages of the 1989 Twins. I realized they were terrified. They were isolated. They were drowning in loneliness. I stopped my lecture and told them we were going to “check in.” They could talk about anything or not talk at all. I started. I told them I was terrified of getting sick, my kids getting sick, that this was our new normal, that I felt a loneliness I never knew was possible. Each student shared. And then we went back to the lesson.
I bring this experience up because it changed how I teach. Without connecting with students, without demonstrating that I truly care about them, their lives, their struggles and triumphs and annoyances—which I do, honestly, like every one of them—the class wasn’t going to matter. They weren’t going to learn anything of significance. They were going to continue to feel isolated. That’s now a huge part of my teaching practice. Grammar, audience appeals, and direct textual evidence can wait. The buy-in of a student who feels valued and seen is off the charts. They’re all in for content if they know I care about them, as people, a hell of a lot more than I care about them as scores in my gradebook.
So, if you’re teaching full-time at the collegiate level while also raising three children, when do you have time to write?
Add to that an unhealthy amount of time spent watching skateboarding and pimple-popping videos on TikTok. But yeah, I’m busy, but no busier than anyone else. Probably less busy, actually. There’s a lot of freedom built into my schedule. Generally, I’m like three, ten-hour type days. The other days, I do some grading or lesson planning, but I try to keep these to a few hours. My three kids are now all in school. So, I try to crank out an hour of writing as soon as they’re dropped off. On days I teach, I get up at 4:30, drive the hour to work, and write in the car for an hour before I go to class. The weekends afford me a little more time for writing, or rather, my wife affords me this time early in the morning, knowing I’m a hell of a lot nicer to be around if I’ve written that day. Sure, I’d love more time to write, but right. My children are the best thing I’ve ever had a hand in creating. I love them more than anything. A novel taking an extra year to write is the most inconsequential trade-off imaginable.
We, Adults Available on Amazon!
Published by: Khy Talara
