Nearly ten years ago now I was lucky enough to attend two of Kelly Gallagher’s writing seminars here in Spokane. I even got the opportunity to introduce him at the second one, which was put on by WSASCD–not every day that someone gets the honor of introducing his hero.

I learned a lot from Kelly in those two days, but of all that I learned, two things in particular stick out. One, “everybody improves.” Two, “writing is never done; it’s only due.” And while these did immediately resonate with me and impact my practice as a teacher of writers, it has taken years for me to arrive at a place where I feel like I can truly foster and support these notions, and it is largely due to my de-emphasizing grades.  It has given me the freedom to focus on learning, to focus on writing in a way that puts process over product, a way that emphasizes growth, not grades.

And so it is with this in mind that I have approached writing this year. And with this first essay I am perpetuating the “due-not-done” process in both deed and name. I am no longer going to call final drafts, “final drafts.” I am going to call them “due drafts.” Along with that, I also try to change the mindsets of my young writers by sharing the following.

Our writing is not a home in which we dwell; it is a vehicle in which we move. It is a construct. It is a creation. And as such, it is an investment. And that investment places heavy demands on us, both intellectually and emotionally, giving it a personal quality that transcends much of the work we do in school. But it is only a construct, only a creation in the end. It is only writing, not the writer. Not us. It is a temporary vessel, a skin we shed as we learn and grow from each piece we write–a metamorphosis. We write. We learn. We grow.

In the end, I tell them, that their writing doesn’t matter; they, the writers, matter. And so I seek to prove that in deed. I am asking them to do their best until its due. At which time, I will give them feedback on what they have submitted. They will hit, and they will miss. That’s the nature of learning. But, hit or miss, they will not remain, for they have outgrown their latest shell, and they will move on to their next experience better than they began the last. Of course, it will take some time for the kids to adjust and trust. Despite my reassurances, many still find and feel it to be a final draft deadline, but I hope as the cycle spins, kids come to trust in the process, kids come to look beyond the deadline, kids come to look within to find what really matters. Them. The writers.

Here are my requirements for and my example of a “Due Draft.”

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns

…move our writing down the path.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. No post today. Life got in the way. Sorry. Be back at it tomorrow.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…move our narrative essays down the path.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Ryhme.

Happy Wednesday.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Our writing is not a home in which we dwell; it is a vehicle in which we move. It is a construct. It is a creation. And as such, it is an investment. And that investment places heavy demands on us, both intellectually and emotionally, giving it a personal quality that transcends much of the work we do in school. But it is only a construct, only a creation in the end. It is only writing, not the writer. Not us. It is a temporary vessel, a skin we shed as we learn and grow from each piece we write–a metamorphosis. We write. We learn. We grow.

I am not certain I successfully secured this notion in the minds and hearts of my young writers yesterday. Initially, it was my response to their wide-eyed, stress-induced reactions of learning that I put the narrative essay on the fast track, making it due Monday. I wanted them to understand that I was not looking for a masterpiece. How dare I, were that so? Yet, I think that’s the message, the banner we wave, when we present kids with writing experiences in school. We tend to present the expectation that the only success to be found in the experience is from creating a perfect paper. Perfect. As if. How long does it take to arrive at perfection? How many failed attempts? Is perfect even possible? I write nearly every day. And even in my practiced state, I rarely move toward, much less achieve, the gold standard. Some of my posts are hits. Many are misses. But, hit or miss, I learn and I grow from each and every one. And that’s what I want for my kids, but it is hard for them to see, to understand, to trust. And it is particularly challenging when writing is only 2/5 of our time together. We have to put into perspective what it really takes to become an effective writer and approach it in a way that not only challenges but more importantly supports our young writers. And so, I will continue to work with them, to build trust. In the end, all that I care about is that they grow. All I care about is them. I don’t care about the writing. I care about the writer.

So, today, I will roll up my shirt sleeves and dig into the work with them, helping them grow as writers, getting them ready for the next transport as we move through our year of not simply creating writing, but growing writers.

My writers will consider these questions today as they move forward, questions that stem from our Andrew Stanton TedTalk yesterday.

Am I conveying my message?

Have I made the reader care? (emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically) 

Have I made the reader work for his meal? (Stanton suggests that we should give our audience 2+2 to work with instead of 4.)

Am I providing a compelling narrative frame that connects ideas and creates anticipation?

These are challenging questions for kids who generally write one narrative a year. These are challenging questions for writers like Stanton who have written several blockbuster movies for Pixar. Writing is challenging. And like anything that is, there is fantastic fulfillment when we achieve success. But how measure that success is important. I measure it in terms of progress. Is there really any other way to do it fairly in my context? Writers writing. Writers learning. Writers growing. Writers. I care about nothing else.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…push ourselves as writers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

We are bound by words. We are connected by sentences. We live on pages. We exist in stories. In my classroom, from Smiles and Frowns to Community Circle to Mindset Mantras to Journey Journals to Sappy Sy Rhymes, we are woven together by the threads of our words, the fabric of our stories. It is how we connect. And then, too, there are those more formal times when we write to discover ourselves and others through the words we find as we search inward to better understand outward.

To that end, we are in the midst of such discovery as we unearth the truths discovered in our own experiences in our narrative essays.

Prompt: In a narrative essay, reveal a truth that you have discovered about the human experience from one of your own life experiences.

To date, the kids have completed a first draft and have gotten feedback on their introductions. From here, we will now work on the organization and development of their essays. For that, there is a copy of the handout that I will give them below. But before we get there, I will share a TedTalk “The Clues to a Great Story” by Andrew Stanton, Toy Story and Wall-E writer. (The Clues to a Great Story) A word of caution, there is a graphic joke in the first minute that I will not share with the kids, but the rest is great. After that, I will then share and read my next draft of my essay, also below.

My goal here is to get the kids to rethink writing a bit. They are so accustomed to the five-paragraph-essay approach that they have a hard time doing differently. They always ask me how long a paragraph has to be. For years they have been taught that it has to be a certain or minimum number of sentences. I get this to a degree. Kids generally do not write enough to achieve a critical mass, so the minimum-requirement approach can be helpful, but it can also be detrimental as kids worry more about quantity than quality, or they believe, rather, that meeting quantity requirements equals quality achievement. So, I strive to get them to think instead about purpose, encouraging them to set out with the idea of achieving a particular purpose with each paragraph, fretting not about length. For the narrative essay, I am asking them to write in three modes: narration, exposition, and reflection. In my essay below, I have color-coded my paragraphs by mode, so the kids can see a model.

For this essay, though there will be a final product, I am mostly concerned about process, and in the end, I will only assess introductions for purpose/focus and the body for organization and development of purpose paragraphs. Later, they will have an opportunity to take it to the final publishing stage if they want, but for now, it is a vehicle for process.

By some luck, I was able to secure the Chromebooks all week, so I have changed our plans a bit, and the essay will be “due” on Monday. I am eager to move on to our next writing opportunity with description, so we are going to. That said, I will be busy conferring with kids all week as we move their writing. As such, it will be an exhausting but fulfilling week. Can’t wait to walk with my kids through their stories, connecting with them, bonding with them. We live in words.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…work on our narrative essays.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“Okay, gang. Here’s some optional sentence practice for tomorrow’s performance. I am encouraging you to write and label fifteen sentences: five simple, five compound, and five complex. But, you need to make a big kid decision as to how many you’re going to do based on your confidence level. If you feel confident with the simple sentences, don’t do them. If you’re not very confident, do them and get some feedback from me. You decide.”

After Smiles and Frowns yesterday, this is how I opened each period. And despite leading early with the word “optional” and ending with the words “you decide,” every period–with no exception–someone raised a hand asking, “So, do we have to write all fifteen?” Kids. Love ’em, but by gosh they drive me crazy sometimes. I have a beautiful voice, so I am always dumbfounded by the fact that there could possibly be anyone out there among them who did not hang on every word of my eloquent explanations. Kidding. Really, it’s just job security. If not for the fact that I have to repeat myself, I may be out of a job. So, I repeat myself, and oh man, who knows how many times I have had the pleasure over the last twenty-two years. Regardless, I repeat. It’s what I do. I am a teacher. But there’s more at work here than kids not listening.

“Option” goes against the grain. It runs counter to years of conditioning in a carrot-and-stick system where few if any options have existed before. They are not accustomed to making decisions. They expect me to do that for them. That’s the nature of their existence, so when faced with the opportunity, it feels foreign to them, and it becomes more a matter of trust than poor listening. They don’t trust me…yet. But they will, and so I do not take it personally. We are out here in uncharted territory. But some day, they will believe, will trust that optional means optional. Of course, I am also weaving a web here, for with choice comes responsibility. Today, on the performance, they will learn if they made a good big kid decision. But I have options for that to: retakes. They always have the option of retakes. Always, another word that’s taking some getting used to.

“Can we use our resources on the performance?” Always. Another word I oft repeat as kids are getting used to me and my odd ways.

“Always. You may always use resources.”

That’s the point. Resources are meant to be used, not tucked away in a binder, out of sight, lest they help kids “cheat” on an assessment. I provide and encourage resources, for I can think of few occasions in the “real world” where we don’t use resources: mechanics use manuals, doctors rely on second opinions, cooks use recipes, cashiers use cheat sheets for produce codes, and the list goes on. So, in room 211, we use resources. Ironically, it is often the teachers who would never allow resources on a test who are also the very same ones who use the “real world” to scare kids and justify their own not-really-of-this-world practices. I am not interested in the learn-it-and-leave-it model, the learn-it-for-test approach. I am interested in learning. And I think there are better approaches than what we have relied on for years. But that is a hard trend to buck, and as such, as with “optional practice,” the kids have a hard time trusting me when I say, “Always.” But I hope at some point I earn that trust, and they come to believe that optional means optional and always means always. Always.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…take the sentence performance.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. End of the week for the kids. Tomorrow I get to sit in meetings with adults all day. I will miss the kids.

Just another day on the 180 trail. No attempts to be inspirational. Nothing to share that’s practical. Just an otherwise ho-hum October day. Many kids will be taking the PSAT this morning. Those who aren’t will complete a sentence review for a performance tomorrow. In addition, they will have a chance to clear their trails of some clutter, getting late assignments completed, etc. I will use the time to continue my efforts to get less behind. Never ahead. Just less behind.

Hard to believe that we have already reached the 1/6 mark in our journey. So proud of where I have gotten so far with my kids. They are adjusting to my grading practices, and they are becoming more comfortable with the practice-feedback-performance cycle. They are also settling into having greater ownership and responsibility over their learning. Yesterday, after spending ample time thinking about, planning, and then beginning his epic poem, Dylan informed me that he made a decision, actually three, but I only vaguely remember all that he said, for he had me at, “I made a decision.” He kept talking, and I remember bits, but admittedly I was lost, transfixed in euphoric excitement over his taking control of the direction of his Passion Paper, sharing with me that he was ditching his epic poem for something steam punk related (I was only half listening, remember). Regardless, he changed his Passion Paper. His Passion Paper. Not mine. Decision on, Dylan. Decision on.

And so, we will continue down our path, one day at a time, one decision at a time. And, as we do, it is my earnest hope that others make the same discovery as Dylan, the discovery that they, not only I, have the freedom, have the power to decide. Of course, I believe it helps when we can create a culture where kids truly can make that discovery. Where kids are not afraid to do. Where kids are inclined to reflect. Where kids are determined to do better.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…review for the sentence performance.

…clear some clutter from our paths.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Hope to make it all day today. Went home sick yesterday. Feel less awful today.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I weave a web. I attach a string here. I attach a string there. Some I leave for later. Some I cling to now. Some will never connect. Others will attach and connect in ways I never expect. I am at once random and manipulative in my craft. Sometimes I pursue. Other times I wait. But I am at all times an opportunist. I take advantage when I can, a truth for which I bear equal parts shame and pride. For it is not always easy to reconcile one’s manipulation of others. And though I’d like to believe that my intentions are always honorable and selfless, I am not always sure, for the line is thin. Either way, yesterday, I took advantage.

It was my first bad day of the year. And it won’t be my last. As to why, the list is long. But suffice to say, the parts equal a telling sum: I am human. Most days, I can stave off this annoying truth by donning a Superman shirt, rising to the occasion for my kids, summoning super-human energy and patience for those I serve. But some days, the shirt doesn’t matter. Some days, I don’t even try. Yesterday, was one of those days, and my spinnerets had a mind of their own.

First thread. Smiles and Frowns. I shared a frown, revealing that it was on off day for me.

Second thread. An apology. I apologized to the kids for not having their essays done, remarking that my actions never caught up with my intentions over the weekend.

Third thread. Journey Journal. On most days, we reflect on academic things. Yesterday, I asked the kids to title their entries, “Advice.” I then prompted them to consider and share what advice they would give to someone who was having a bad day. I, next, asked them to underline a key phrase and share aloud with the class. Selfishly, I needed to hear it. It mattered to me coming from them. Consciously, I knew I was not the only one who would benefit, for I was not the only one to share a Monday frown. In truth, I was one of many.

Fifth period presented an unexpected thread. Fifth is after lunch, and it is not always my most productive class. Lovely kids, but kids all the same, and sometimes, especially on a Monday, they are not my most motivated kiddos. Yesterday, was no exception. I gave a few gentle reminders throughout the period to get to work. “Gentle” in my mood was a good choice, for it is not fair to project my mood onto the kids, especially in ways that would be out of character. It’s not their fault that I was grumpy. But seeing an opportunity, I changed the Journey Journal prompt to, “Imagine a good-natured teacher who after some time the kids began to take advantage of his good will, and despite his gentle nudgings to get to work, the students continued to waste their time…” I then asked them what advice they would give that teacher for how to motivate his kiddos. Their responses were golden. Message sent. Message received. Thread connected.

Fourth thread. Mindset Mantra. Our mantras shifted to beginning with “we” this week. Our first mantra, “We are valued members of this community,” was resonant, even if only unconsciously as we heard ourselves and others say that we mattered. We have been speaking this in different iterations for weeks now (“you,” then “I,” now “we”).

Fifth thread. Sappy Sy Rhyme. I have been doing this for two weeks now. I end each period with a sappy, want-you-to-know-you-matter message. I want to have the last word, and I want that last word to stick as the wheel turns and the twenty-three hour countdown begins till I see them next.

Earlier threads.

From Student Letter.

I hope you discover the value of community and the power of empathy. Though our learning journeys are unique, we all travel similar paths. When we come to realize that through our similar trails we share a bond, we begin to understand that we are not alone, that we can learn with others, that we can learn from others. When we connect with others, we learn. When we connect with others, we can understand. We will connect. We are a community.

From “Roles, Routines, Rights, and Responsibilities.

Role #2: Valued Community Member. This is your second most important role. At present, many of us are not well-acquainted, but we are in this together either way. And as we will spend a lot of time together both struggling and celebrating over the days to come, my hope is that we establish a community that is rich in relationships and in excess of empathy. We are a community.

Yesterday, I needed the kids. I needed their understanding. I needed their empathy. It was about me. I cannot deny that. But, too, I think it’s bigger than that. Though it is a web I weave, it is also a net I build, a community I create to catch us when we fall, to support us when we need it. And we’re all gonna need it, even those of us who hide behind t-shirts.

I didn’t “teach” anything yesterday as I sat at my desk scrambling to get kids feedback on their narratives. But I do think there were opportunities to learn, opportunities to learn things that won’t be on the state assessment come spring, but things that will be on their horizons as they step through the human experience, now and later, threads in their webs. In the end, our web.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue working on our writing.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Today, we are writers. The kids are working on two pieces of writing at present: their narrative essays and their Passion Papers. I am behind on getting feedback to them on their narrative essay introductions, so I am going to ask them to work on their Passion Papers today while I work on feedback. Over the weekend, I devised a plan to expedite the feedback process by creating a feedback guide, a list of my commonly-made comments, coding each with a number (see  below).

I had to come up with something like this. It takes too long to write these comments on one-hundred-twenty essays, and if I am writing the same comments over and over, why not simplify? Plus the kids can’t read my crappy handwriting anyway, so at least now they can actually read the comments. I will provide each writer with a half-page feedback guide, circling the numbers that pertain to their particular piece. It’s funny how, even though I know this will be faster and productive, I feel like I am somehow “shirking” on my duties by not writing comments. I know I am not, but it bugs me anyway. In truth, something had to give. I am woefully behind already, and I can’t spend all weekend doing this type of stuff, and I could. But what’s sad, is that even if I did, I would only be less behind, not done. I have to recharge, and I have to step away from the work at times. My hope is that little tweaks like this will help me find some balance.

As the kids continue writing today, I am going to introduce some “tricks of the trade” to help them develop some capacity as writers. I will do a brief mini-lesson on the “tricks” that I adapted and developed (see below).

I will then ask the kids for forgiveness for my being behind, and then we will all set to work.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…change to “we” instead of “I” for Mindset Mantras.

…continue working on our writing.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

And that’s our Monday. Short week. No school for kids on Friday, so I will modify the schedule a bit. No “Life is Lit” this week. Will have a short sentence performance on Thursday, and then the kids will get some promised personal-reading time after that. Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Despite my efforts to shift my kids’ mindsets about “tests,” many still harbor old notions of tests in the classroom, which generally manifest in the form of anxiety. They are being tested. They are being critiqued. They are being labeled. They are being sorted. They are being judged. And for too many, they believe they are being defined. And that’s a problem. But in a test-and-move-on, ready-or-not system this is a prevalent view, and so when I tell them “this is not a test,” they do not believe. Kyle 5th period yesterday, even said as much, as he questioned the rose I presented by another name. Looks like a test. Smells like a test. Feels like a test. Must be a test.

His logic’s not off. For it is a seeming mirage I present in form, but it is in function where his claim misses the mark. Of course, I wish that name alone would change their minds, even admonishing myself when I slip and call it “test” (old habits are hard for me, too.), but in form, it will likely always look a test. I have limited control over that. However, I have firm control over function. I have final and ultimate choice and say over how I use the form, regardless its name. And so, that is where I will spend my time and energy in transforming my kids’ minds on the role of performances in my classroom.

And so, yesterday, I offered, in response to my stress-filled little wonders, that the performance was a step not an end. It was simply an opportunity for me respond to their shots at the provided targets, to give them feedback on where they are, a snapshot. And as I skimmed their responses upon turn in, I saw that we still have work to do. They are not where I want them to be…yet. But they will get there, and their work yesterday will help inform my responses as we move ahead, as I help them take better aim. I have to do better. They are still not wading deeply enough into the pool with their analysis. And so, my performance needs work, too. And my hope is that my owning that will also help the kids take greater ownership as we work together to move down the path.

One step at a time. Some kids took three or four steps yesterday. Most stayed on their present perch. A few took a step or two back (that’s learning). One, CJ, took a tumble. After 40 minutes, she had nothing on her paper. Tears in eyes as the bell rang, she still sat at her desk. I knelt beside her, patted her on the arm, told her it was okay, and asked her if she wanted to come in Tuesday during access time and take it together. She nodded, smiled, and packed up. A standout in regular LA last year, she was encouraged to take honors this year. And I am not going to leave her behind. And I don’t “have to.” I am in control of how I use performances in my class. I am in control of how I respond to each and every kid’s journey this year. There are no ends on this trail. I will not let CJ fall and stay behind only twenty-seven days in–any days in. I will get her through. This is simply a setback, not an end. She will climb.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…engage in Community Circle. First Friday of every month we have Community Circle. Love this fun, focused approach to building culture and community with my kiddos.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

And then there are those days when even coffee may not be enough. In truth, of late, many days have felt as such, and today is certainly no exception. Coming off a three-day binge of helping kids tap into their creative centers, scrambling to get feedback to them before our next performance (today), dealing with at-home stress (discovered our freezer in the garage that we just filled with half a grass-fed, organic beef wasn’t working), coming upon and dealing with a disturbing bullying situation at the end of the day and being called the “F” word a few hundred times for my trouble, running alongside and cheering for my son at his cross-country race (tied for 2nd), cooking dinner and catching up with my kids, connecting with and rooting for my gradeless peeps around the world, and worrying over all that I DIDN’T do, I am tired. But little matter. I’m back at it again today. Tapping away on the keys, drinking too much coffee, and scheming to a fit a week’s worth of work into a day, I am back for more.

And I always will be. I love what I do. And this year is off to a magical beginning. All my years (twenty-two of them now) have been great, but this one is a bit different. Only twenty-six days in and we are rocking. I am so pleased with and proud of the culture that the kids and I are establishing. Yesterday, I walked into my 5th period class and Moses (who generally passes) and Maisie were leading Smiles and Frowns from the front of the room–before the bell. What was the rush? Well, the cross-country kids were leaving five minutes into the period to travel to their race, and they didn’t want to miss Smiles and Frowns, so they started it on their own. I took a seat and watched. When it came my turn, I smugly smiled at Moses and passed. And then, Maisie, with the help of Moses, started teaching complex sentences from the handout I had given her since she’d be leaving early with the XC team. And she did okay.

I am tired today. I am stressed today. But I am gonna be okay. With kids like Maisie, Moses, and a hundred more, I am going to be okay. Man, I love kids. Love them.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…have a performance opportunity with theme.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.