In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott really challenged me to rethink some of the traditions to which I held fast as a teacher and writer. For example, she advises to just begin. No fancy pre-writing rituals required. Just start writing. And keep writing, doing so on a regular basis. Not everything will be brilliant--but that's OK. Eventually, something meaningful will emerge.
And that brings up a second theme Lamott hammers home (and yes, I meant to say "hammer.) Publishing should not be the end-all, be-all to writers. While it may be nice to be published, and it does bring legitimacy to what we do, the journey is what's important. That's not to say that being published (many times as it turns out in order to really make a living as a writer) isn't admirable. It's just to say that if we lose sight of why we write that can make what we write fraudulent. And fraudulent writing may sound pretty, but it will lack the power to transmit long-lasting meaning.
I found Bird by Bird to be humorous, inspiring, and just what I needed at this stage in my journey as a writer. I recommend it particularly for those who may be hesitant about just diving in.
What a privilege to see my colleagues present workshops that not only were engaging, but highly beneficial in terms of what I can bring to my own classroom. Gloria and Mercedes reminded me how studying a second language can bring understanding to the structure of a primary language. Not only that, but honoring other cultures can be a fantastic way to increase student interest and engagement. I will hope to increase my students' sentence savvy by encouraging them to measure the importance of each word. My writer's notebooks will be more organized, purposeful and useful to my students. I will have a more focused plan to prepare my students for the Direct Writing Assessment. Finally, I will use media to teach my students the art of persuasion in a fun, motivational way.
The above only touches the surface of what I will be able to incorporate into my writing instruction next fall. I'll need time to go back through all the handouts, to reflect about and possibly modify activities to meet the needs of my students.
In her article, "I Don't Grade Papers Anymore," I was drawn in immediately by Marylyn Calabrese's confession that she hadn't graded papers for over ten years. This aligns similarly to my own experience--as I grew in my understanding about learning and grading, it became clear that students simply didn't read my red-inked comments on their graded papers. Instead, they flipped right to what mattered to them the most--the grade. I didn't stop grading papers upon this realization, but I did begin to conference with students. Conferencing--as I've mentioned before--is a powerful way to help students grow in their writing.
A couple of years ago, I had the opportunity to take a class from our district's curriculum director entitled, "How to Grade for Learning," and it was based on the book of the same name by Ken O'Connor. I have to say--it really shook up my world in terms of grading. I came to understand that many of our time-honored traditions simply have no impact in terms of report student learning. In fact, grading in general does a poor job of reporting anything other than assignment completion. So often, behavior is wrapped up into grades as well. I've heard teachers say things like, "..so and so has worked so hard this semester and they've got an 89 now. But I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt and give them an A." Similarly, I've heard colleagues boast about not awarding a grade based solely on a student's attitude. What we need, therefore, is a more productive way about reporting learning and ways to report behavior--but keep them separate.
"Portfolios" is a word that is widely used but widely misunderstood in education today. Many teachers view portfolios as simply being a collection of loosely related artifacts that end up in the landfill by year's end. Other teachers may more systematically organize the portfolio but do not use it purposely for assessment. Even more troublesome is that most students do not understand why they are even maintaining a portfolio. Though I've experienced these challenges first hand, I truly see the benefit of teaching students how to collect their work over time to illumninate their learning and growth as a writer. I plan to have two folders available for my students next year: a. one for writing in progress and b. one for selecting and organizing their best work. I will intentionally--through conferencing, questioning and class discussion--draw their attention to the purpose of their portfolio (as a means to think about their growth as a writer) and to develop a way of sharing their writing with others outside the school setting. In other words, their work will not end up in the landfill.
Hang soaked clothes with pins or pegs, pour iced tea, eat rosehips. Lift the cellar doors and feel the cool draft of the basement.
Burn black coffee. Fry potatoes, bacon, onions—grease coagulating in the cast iron pan.
Drive logs down a flume. Drive a line horse. Drive a weathered post. Be the peacemaker or the hammer. Speak plain. Be patient. Love with a nod of his head.
Once again, Ms. Warne has articulated the frustration many of us feel concerning the nature of standardized testing, the way we know students learn, and the way we know we should teach literacy. Simply, there exists a major disconnect between high-stakes testing and effective pedagogy and assessment. The question, "hadn't the test creators read the research?" prompted me to reflect about the the growing body of literature that supports using a constructivist approach, i.e., a writing workshop, in the classroom. Similarly, developing a culture in the classroom that values learning, respect and trust provides the necessary framework to make it all work.
As I continue my study of the work of writer-educators such as Lane,Calkins, Weaver, Moffett, and Warne, (and many others)it has become increasingly clear that teaching writing in the context of literacy is extremely complex. High-stakes, one-size-fits-all testing presented in multiple-choice, electronic format is a wholly inadequate way to assess the growth of writing, yet we hang our hats on it as the end all, be all.
Conferencing with our students may be the most powerful way we can help them advance in their writing. One issue that Calkins brings to light is that many (maybe even most) teachers have given up on conferencing, largely due to time constraints. We feel tremendous pressure to cover material in order to prepare our students to pass the state test. But in my own experience, conferencing with students has been the only strategy that consistently promotes growth in writing.
Something that I've learned about my own conferencing style regards how to ask questions. Calkins refers to one step in questioning as the "research stage," and I really like her analogy. We are seeking to discover a student's motivation for writing the piece, ascertain their current affect, ask them to assess how good they think their piece is, all of which helps direct a their effort to learn how to improve their writing. In terms of my own questioning, I have to admit that it takes on more of a "fix it" role rather than an exploration of my students' motives. In the end, I want them to do the work in the learning, not me.
First, what a well-written, informative piece. I really appreciate how Ms. Warne succinctly addressed issues that plague the current educational milieu in terms of teaching writing--that there is conflict between how students seem to learn versus how we assess, i.e., standardized testing. Through it all, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It is completely possible to teach students how to write using a recursive process and prepare them for the state test.
Atwell's assertion that "I'm careful never to talk about the writing process because the phrase implies one series of steps through which everyone proceeds in creating a piece of writing" was curious; perhaps I would agree with her in principle but I might point out that writing is a process but it is recursive in nature. I think Ms. Warne clearly articulates this idea later in the piece when she states, "as I help students explore the writing process steps for themselves, using the terminology that will appear on the ISAT, I am helping them step out toward a world that will read and use--and perhaps enjoy--their writing.
I had the privilege of being a member of the Wright Fellowship at the University of Idaho with Bonnie Warne. I found her to be brilliant, caring, collegial and an endlessly inspiring.
One of the things I appreciated about this article is how Dix reminds us of how complex revision is, particularly at the transactional level. Intentionality of a writer to "reflect, compare, evaluate, identify deficiencies, generate possibilities and then revise" reflects the intense cognitive nature of writing. Again, Dix points to the recursive rather than linear process that fluent writers use. Finally, transactional writing requires metacognition, a concept that requires educators to teach students how to become aware of their own thinking in terms of composition. When I work with my students, I teach them that revision is the intentional changing of the words or word order(not merely at the syntactical level) to influence meaning.
One of the first things that popped out to me in this article was the notion that "the possibility of revision distinguishes the written text from speech." It illustrates the idea that the written word has the potential to be so powerful. In fact, it also underpins the reason why writing can be such a joy--that we can delight in word choice to get at the precise meaning we desire.
Sommers goes on to lament about the lack of understanding that many students have regarding the transactional nature of writing. Most simply look at surface changes--syntax, capitalization, spelling--but never get to the point when they look at words in terms of changing meaning. As I reflected about her point, I wondered how much life experience informs our writing and therefore our ability to manipulate words to create meaning. I also thought about how much a student's own development and readiness impacts their ability to revise beyond the surface level. Though experience and development do play a part in revision, I believe that teachers should strive to nudge students to the next level in terms of their thinking about creating meaning.
Last year I wanted to try free writing, and I remember, vaguely, setting up the free write with some lively topic ideas. When I said, "go," students dug in. But Paul just sat there, like usual. I could have predicted it. But I had a strategy in mind--I asked Paul to write the words, "blah blah blah..." until something came to mind. Eventually, something did come to his mind, and he was able to write three or four sentences.
As I read some of Lane's suggestions for struggling writers, I was struck by the notion that many kids--maybe even our future writer--can not or do not like to free write. For that matter, I don't really care for it either. I want my words to count, even if no one but me reads them. And most times, having time to think before putting pen to paper helps me sort out my ideas. That's the kid of writer Paul was--one of my best, too.
I will probably try the roller coaster strategy Lane lines out in chapter, with the proper set-up, of course. But if a student looks off into the distance for a bit, I won't panic. And as for having a student write "blah, blah, blah,"--I'm going to stick with giving think time instead.
During the spring semester two years ago, I was finishing up my research about creating community in the classroom and how to reach the reluctant writer. I came across several articles and book excerpts that defined the importance of conferencing with students as one way to connect with them and advance their writing. Previously, I had given verbal feedback, but I really relied on the margin comments in red ink. Not surprisingly, students rarely followed through on my suggestions--they were much more interested in their score.
In chapter 7, Lane reiterates the importance of conferencing as a tool for helping students grow in their writing. Some suggestions he gives to improve the effectiveness of conferencing, which I will definitely try, include: let the student speak first to encourage them to talk about their writing; all students to draw their own conclusions about what will improve their piece; as a student talks, take notes because this helps reflect accurately what was said; work with 2-3 students at a time to deflect your need to "fix" the student's writing.
For me, the most interesting suggesting was to encourage the student to speak first during a conference. Perhaps the greatest benefit of this will be that students will feel much more ownership of their work. I'm anxious to see how my students will respond when I try this.
Predictable and simple are two concepts Calkins uses to describe classrooms that foster creativity, and as I reflect back to my first year back in the elementary setting, I couldn’t agree more. There are several ways I addressed organization of space that I think helped students grow in their writing. First, I put our schedule on the board daily and honored it. I did this knowing that many students feel more secure when they can count on what is coming next in their day, and this included writing time. I also discussed with my students that at certain times, we needed a library-like atmosphere so people could think more clearly. There is ample brain research to support the need for quiet, but for students to understand, I use an analogy. I have them think about how computers work—that computers use RAM memory( to process information here and now and to run programs) and ROM memory—space the computer uses to store information that will be retrieved later. Students readily understand that talking with neighbors, listening to music, or general classroom hubbub requires the brain to use short-term memory (like RAM on a computer) to filter through it all. But, we need our working memory to create. We also need to be able to access our long-term memory (ROM) at times during the creative process. So, the best environment to create in is often quite, simple and predictable.
I have found over the years that students are much more willing to follow guidelines when they understand that there is a purpose—and even research—to support them.
As I begin my second week with the Northwest Inland Writing Project, I have come to a blasphemous conclusion about writing: one size does not fit all in terms of the writing process. Let me share with you a vignette that happened as a result of not understanding this notion.
This past year, I am proud to say that I offered my 5th graders numerous ways to organize their ideas before they began a piece. They could use a list, web, outline or the dreaded “four-square” method. (I say dreaded because it was the only one that produced audible moans—it had been hammered to proverbial death earlier in their careers, apparently…). One day, a student raised his hand and asked, “Can’t we just start writing?” Not having read Barry Lane’s After the End, I panicked. Stammering, I finally told the student, “No—you need to choose and do one of the pre-writing strategies.” If this had happened during the first few months of school, maybe I could have made a case for insisting on him demonstrating a formal piece of pre-writing. But we were in the second half of the year. We had built a solid, safe community in which students could take risks. He was ready to venture out on his own.
Rief reiterates the idea that “there is no one process that defines the way writers write." Anne Lamott in her book Bird by Bird advocates just to write, write, write. Barry Lane talks about diving in and “exploding a moment.” The effect these and other writers have had on me so far will significantly inform my practice in terms of the way I teach writing. And now I know that it's OK to "just start writing."
Response to Sheryl Lain’s, “Reaffirming the Writing Workshop”
To be honest, I don’t recall much of anything from my teacher education program that prepared me for teaching writing. Like many teachers I know, I hung my hat on traditional methods—assigning topics, rigid formats, lots of red ink in the margins, and, frustration with seemingly little or no gain in my students’ writing. In her article, Sheryl Lain beautifully articulates this frustration while simultaneously reminds us that there is a better way! For me, Lain’s treatment of the topic “writing workshops” serves as a reminder of the importance of creating an environment that has the potential to foster a love for literacy in our students. She also reminds me of how to implement the writer’s workshop in an increasingly demanding milieu of standardized testing demands. That in fact, adhering to the workshop format increases our students’ scores on such tests.
Several points in Lain’s piece resonated with me. First, she describes the importance of using daily journal writing. I especially like how she emphasizes the use of student writing to teach specific skills, such as sentence combining and comma use in terms of improving flow and to address standardized testing issues. Another point that I will take with me to the classroom is the importance of modeling. Lain not only writes with her students, but is the first to model sharing her work. This accomplishes two goals: it shows her students that she values writing and demonstrates how to share. I will incorporate this into my workshop time next year.
Of the articles we’ve read thus far, this one has been the most useful. Sheryl Lain offers practical solutions and research to back up the importance of teaching writing through the workshop model the National Writing Project advocates.
Response to Non-Magical Thinking: Presenting Writing Developmentally in Schools By Janet Emig
In her piece, Janet Emig poses the question, “What if it is just as natural to write books and read them as it is natural to die or be born?” This question inspired me to really think about how language developed, its purpose, and just how I teach literacy in my classroom. First, let me say that I don’t believe writing can happen “just naturally,” at least in terms of advancing young writers to an acceptable point. For example, if I want my students to write more descriptively, I can’t just say, “You need to write more descriptively,” and leave it at that. (In the beginning of my career, I honestly struggled with how to get my students to write more descriptively beyond simply teaching about adjectives or adverbs as discreet sub skills) Rather, I need to be intentional while weaving the idea of purpose when discussing with students how they can make their writing more descriptive; in fact, it’s not about being descriptive, it’s about making writing more interesting to compose and read.
From, “Now That You Go to School” James N. Britton
I think Britton’s big ideas concerns labeling different types of writing or communicating in terms of their purpose. Expressive communication is not rehearsed, is responsive to what others might say or do, and the purpose is to communicate in writing or speech in the present. Poetic writing seems to have the purpose of storytelling. It is one-way communication, and while it may (and should) evoke thought, it is meant for the purpose of sharing the writer’s point of view. Transactional writing seems to serve the purpose of a well-organized, two-way dialogue. The writer is meant to communicate thoughts or ideas to an audience that serve the purpose of evoking thought. The reader is supposed to react to the piece.
In class, we completed an activity that required us to conceptualize Britton’s and Moffett’s ideas visually. I chose to represent them on a continuum, and while Moffett’s ideas seem to lend themselves readily to a continuum, I had to force expressive, poetic and transactional communication to fit. In retrospect, a Venn diagram much more responsively represents these ideas. This is primarily due to the influence expressiveness (in other words emotion, expression, spontaneity) has on the other forms of communication Britton discusses.
(originally printed in College Composition and Communication, Volume 16, No. 5 (December, 1965), 243-48.)
First, when Moffett says that a student “…get some kind of feedback other than red marks,” I couldn’t agree more.In my experience, students who have the opportunity to learn in an environment in which risk-taking is encouraged (and not punished by grades) are able to raise the level of their writing to much higher standards.Mind you, risk-taking is an exceptionally important aspect to learning.But so many times students conform to the format and never really branch out because risks are so often rewarded with low or even failing grades.My views regarding this issue have been shaped by years of reflection as well as by Alfie Kohn’s Punished by Rewards and Ken O’Conner’s How to Grade for Learning: Linking Grades to Standards.Kohn’s general premise—that rewards can in many ways act as a punisher—give cause to reflect about practices such as putting stars on papers (why did you get a star on your paper when mine was just as good?) or using mass punishment (since Johnny can’t get started, we’re all staying in until he gets something down on paper).From O’Conner’s work, educators are encouraged to think about grading practices that are, in actual fact, illogical.Take the giving of a “zero” on a piece for whatever reason—turned in late, didn’t follow directions exactly, etc.Typical grading systems are based on a scale, such as 60-69=D, 70-79=C, and so on.Using this system, an “F” should be scaled from 50-59.If a student truly did not attempt to write or did not turn something in, they should receive a 50.By awarding a 50, an educator recognizes that the student did at least do something (even if it was just thinking), and the grade will not permanently damage the entire grading period.In other words, the student can still pass, and the grade has greater potential to reflect learning, not just whether or not the student finished.Feedback for students’ writing, then, should come in multiple forms, including conferencing with peers and teacher or adults, written feedback and opportunities to share drafts in any stage.Students then feel free to take risks, dig deeper in their thinking and soar in their writing.
Moffett goes on to say something with which I disagree completely.He states, that he is “leery of asking the student to read about writing.”Moffett explains that “trial and error best develop judgment and taste, and that explanations of good style, technique and rhetoric create more problems than they solve.”I believe it is essential for students to read, discuss and thoroughly study well-written pieces.Similarly, reading about the thought processes good writers use to produce their work certainly has benefited all levels of writers.Just as a quick example, I am reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott.I am learning about writing in two ways: first, studying word choice, flow, and structure from a superb writer will give me pause about my own word choice; second, I will benefit from her own reflections about writing in terms of the process she uses when she writes.
