An Emig and an Emu walk into a bar...

Oh, Emig. This is not the first time something I’ve read or learned during NIWP SI 2011 has felt more like a “calling out” than an informative discourse. I’d be read, read, reading along, and then BAM, a quick list of “What we do’s” vs. “What we should be doing’s” would smack me upside the head (heart?) and make me search my memory for moments when I’ve been guilty of teaching the ineffective, unproductive, even harmful way… Argh!

And I say teaching, I guess, because that’s the word we use to describe any actions teachers take in front of a classroom of students, right? That’s our verb. Teachers teach, students learn. But what if neither is happening? What if neither happens for a really long time? Entire months, quarters, school years? When will someone come along and say, “Oh dear, you haven’t been teaching at all! And look at those students—they haven’t learned!”

So, here. Here is a list of things teachers of writing should be doing, if good teaching of writing is to take place:

1. Write yourself! A person who doesn’t herself write cannot sensitively help others to write.
I can’t think of the last time I’ve written anything more complex or substantial than a greeting card. When I began teaching, I had a strong conviction that English teachers should read and write regularly. Somewhere during the…oh, first week of my first year, probably, I lost sight of that philosophy. Lost sight of it somewhere in the sea of grading, planning, and side-bar committee obligations I got caught up in.

2. Observe other writers and teacher-writers regularly.
Living in Priest River, this isn’t the easiest thing to accomplish. However, authors share their work pretty regularly in Sandpoint, which isn’t an impossible drive. I need to be more in sync with opportunities to listen to other writers.

3. Be conscious and adjust to attitudes, constructs, and paradigms of student writers.
I know I am weak here. I do my best to get buy-in from kids, but often when that buy-in is tough to procure, I resort of pleads or promises that, like, it won’t hurt too badly or that it’s “almost over.” I need to be more gentle in my approach to teaching writing. I need to understand that for some kids, it’s as pleasurable as a dentist visit. That is as much my problem to deal with as it is theirs. And I’m the one with the tricks and the ability to help them change their ideas about the writing process.

4. Assess growth in writing against its developmental dimensions (recognize growth and distinguish that from mistake)
I think this will be perhaps the most difficult goal for me to reach. I am such an objective grader (rubric is my middle name) that I’m not sure how to identify, specifically, what amount of growth is taking place within a student’s writing. This section earned a question-mark annotation, and even now, several days later, I’m not sure what that will look like as far as grading goes. And then the proficient, even prolific, writer comes to mind—how do I assess growth from a student who already exceeded grade level expectations the first day of class? I’m not saying this is impossible. I’m just leaving it floating out there for a while. I need to marinate in the potential of this goal and talk with others who practice it. I like what Emig wrote, “Developmental errors forward learning while mistakes impede it.” I think that is a good focal point.

Emig’s article was enlightening and left me much to ponder. Along with Moffett and Brittan, I’d say these three articles made the entrance fee into SI 2011 totally worth it.