Every day in the Creative Writing classroom, underneath the gentle patter of rain or swish of wind outside, the low hum of saxophones from the Conservatory Music department across the field, and one of our own daring voices reading out poetry loud and clear, a far more subtle sound can be heard. The air becomes alive with hundreds of snaps. It’s a sound I’ve grown to love over the past few weeks, but I’m afraid I’ve already begun to take it for granted.

Here in CW, we use snapping as a way to show admiration for or resonation with a particular line or phrase in the writing that’s being shared aloud. This is a longstanding tradition within the department. Rather than interrupting the reader, snapping allows us to communicate praise without taking away from the flow of the writing. And even though I’ve only been in CW for just over a month, I can say with certainty that hearing a resounding snap go around the room after a line of your poem is one of the best feelings in the world. I relish that in the way theater kids love hearty applause. It reminds me again and again that it’s in CW where I belong—a classroom full of people who understand a love for writing.

I think it all goes to show the strong community that the students of this remarkable department have built up over the years. We’re constantly uplifting each other, treating each poem as the beautiful and unique artwork it is, while helping each other develop our craft. I already can’t count how many times somebody’s heard that I’m in Creative Writing and followed up immediately with an expression of disdain and the inevitable “So what do you do… sit down and write for two hours?” And I can never fully explain to them because they just don’t get it. The bonds we forge in CW are so special that the first four weeks of every year are dedicated community weeks in which the new freshmen learn how to lift up and laugh with and be vulnerable to their new classmates. Every student gets assigned a buddy, an older or younger classmate to act as a mentor, a collaborator, and a friend. As an introvert, this scared me at first, but I know now that there is nothing to be afraid of. Older buddies don’t see it as a responsibility, but as a privilege, and it helps you build connections across grade levels.

CW is truly the teenage fairytale, that idyllic place where you can be your authentic self, an archetype that is so often separate from reality. It doesn’t matter if you have some unusual hobby that drains your free time and wallet in equal measure, or are terribly addicted to some specific kind of energy drink. You are weird, and you’re a writer, and best of all, you’re here where you belong in a room full of forty other weird writers.

I, however, harbor a dark secret: I can’t snap. At first, of course, it was incredibly disappointing that I couldn’t engage with such an incredible tradition. Did this mean that I was unable to show my love and recognition of my classmates’ poems? Would I look self-centered? But apparently I wasn’t the only one who had this problem, and as always, CW adapted to us. Emily, our department head, was able to come up with a special soft knock to our desks we could use as a substitute for snapping. It’s not quite the real thing—to be honest, it always sounds like someone’s at the door—but the mere fact that it was created especially for us is a testament to the fact that nothing can get in the way of the Creative Writing community. 

I may not be qualified to say this, but I truly think CW has created something special that can’t quite be found when it comes to some of the other arts at SOTA. Despite a much larger grade of incoming freshmen than ever before, we’ve maintained that palpable sense of closeness that has been present in the Creative Writing classroom since the first day. And I feel confident we won’t lose it as the school expands over the next four years. When the next class of freshman shows up in the fall, all nervous smiles and untouched notebooks, I’ll be there, snapping for them. Or at least knocking my hand against the table for the whole world to hear.