I just had an epiphany: if I spent as much time actually making art and writing as I do collecting ideas, supplies, and instructions I would be the Queen of All the Things now.
Okay, appreciate that. I’m also in the mode of “what will I do differently, the same, or better next year?” but that’s a post for another time.
Here are a few ideas that passed my line of sight recently:
First is a drabble idea: While I’ve done sensory image focus on drabbles in the past, I am going to reshape it based on @seeceeread’s idea to focus on character building through smells. I won’t mention the alcohol in my instructions, though, because, you know, Rule No. 1: “Don’t get Mrs. Love fired.”
Yesterday, I met two amazing ladies for wine and talking — one I have known for a while, and the other is a new friend. We have a lot of mutuals in common, with some varying degrees of experiences from positive to…not. And as I was catching them up with some anecdotes, and grinding over some of the mishaps and harm that’s been done, it occurred to me that I wasn’t framing it squarely — this was harm, but I escaped it! I am…lucky!
If my readers perused through this silly post, one might wonder if I am lucky…I mean, things happen, and death isn’t about luck — we all die. I’m thinking about luck being the ‘space between the notes’* as the musical score of my life.
Some remarkable examples:
I was lucky when I so happened to overhear a colleague in the hallway talking about the ELL classes starting that night — the ones I had asked my principal about and wanted in, but she cut me out of the communication and only invited her favorites — but I was there, at that moment, in the hallway, and got my ELL (MLL) endorsement!
That endorsement led me to another amazing district, where I am valued and respected. And, since that particular admin group had done everything in their power to get me out of “their” building (the one I’d been serving for 12 years), this was truly lucky!
I was lucky that they also treated someone else shabbily, and that person helped me get into the new district
Going back further, I was lucky when I got the phone call from the cohort program asking me if I was still interested in becoming a teacher.
I was lucky that I saw a mailbox with another J.Love on it and he became my sweet and funny husband. (That’s a story for another time.)
I was lucky to have a dad as awesome as the one I did. I am lucky to have my mom.
I am lucky to have amazing friends. The shape of the friendship may change, and sometimes that causes me sadness, but I just need to remind myself, again and again, until it sticks, my own path is pretty cool. Their presence or absence, or mine in theirs, should be healthy and consensual.
I am lucky with ideas and have the mind to work through them.
I am lucky.
*I always thought it was Peter Gabriel who said this, but the interweb says it was Claude Debussy.
There are some teaching traditions I love to keep — and writing a ‘suite of drabbles’ is one. This year I put together prompts based on names of colors. You’re welcome to comment and ask for more ideas, or the structure of this; however, it’s simple. Students write nine drabbles, choose their favorite one, and “share it’ with others. They get credit for writing all ten.
Okay, I have reasons, okay? Okay?! At the end of the year, it occurred to me what a strange brand of English teacher I am. I’m not a red-Flair-pen, writing feedback kind of teacher that students 1. don’t read, 2. don’t understand, or 3. read, and then give up when they see 5/50 points. Yes, they rip it up.
I am an art-major-writer-reader-creator-collaborator-scholar-creative kind of teacher. (I hope that clears things up.)
But next year, I’m going to do better. And by better, I mean using the expertise I possess, using the rubrics the ELA department uses, and weaving together a substantial and formidable instructional practice. And I won’t ever have to use a red pen.
The ideas:
Existing Rubrics and deconstruct into single-focus rubrics
Existing rubrics: parse into mini lessons
Weekly Wednesday Writing
Writing Workshop
Composition Notebooks (there will be a follow-up post about these)
Tabulate and curate the resources — a living archive
Now, how I’m going to tabulate this information, I’m not really sure. I’m thinking I’ll set a date on the calendar that’s called “After things are cleaned up and tidy in the house, dedicate a notebook/binder to this, Kelly” day. Maybe July 7th would be a good day for this.
Not me having to take a few deep breaths to calm my spinning brain down so I can pretend to be a linear thinker for a few hours…
Here we go!
With a Google Form survey, I asked my sophomores what they would like to do for the fourth quarter, and while some of the texts we teachers are required to teach were underwhelming, almost every student said they wanted more writing instruction. To that end, I’ve been trying to weave together my bits of string and yarn to support deeper, authentic writing instruction.
Here is a great example of a RAFTS: Pretend you are an NPC in a game and provide sidequests to travelers and heroes. What sidequests would you give to the other players? You can choose any setting, plot, range of characters, and story map. Consider making what would be ‘side quests’ in our school environment.
Take a different point of view on a commonly known story from your own life, culture, nation, or beliefs. Be respectful!
I promised my science teammate some science RAFTS, and if anyone has a science or math background and would like to share some in the comments, I’d love that!
Years ago my friend and mentor Holly introduced me to RAFTS — Role, Audience, Form, Topic, and Strong Verbs. Using the RAFTS format for teaching writing and writer’s craft helps students break away from the ‘blank page’ and word count fears. And, my friend Jennie finds the most amazing TikToks, and shared this one this morning:
Here is one possibility in deconstructing this RAFTS:
You’re the wife of Michael Myers, the notorious serial killer from the Halloween series. You have two small children, and now live in a suburb of Chicago. For a family vacation, you go on a camping trip to a somewhat crowded campground though you’re concerned Michael might be up to his old ways.
Ah, the synergy and serendipity of collaboration and conversation.
I’m sitting in my writing shed, something I wanted forever, am very grateful to have, and am still paying off. And the barn-style door does not stay propped open on its own (does anything?). Returning from a walk, I go back to the shed to see what kinds of inspiration can be gleaned from a sunny, anxious depressing, cortisol-filled day. Now, mind you, the garden statuary of the squirrel has a long story, and not sure I’m going to write it right this minute. But I use this statue to prop open the door, and it came to me that this statue is symbolic of a guardian, a talisman, of mine. Quick snapshot, and onto my IG post of the day. Today is the 218/366 (it’s a Leap Year).
And then I thought–whew– wouldn’t this be a good writing prompt idea for my students? I know we all live in different spaces, sometimes sharing an apartment with extended family. But if they could imagine and fantasize about legendary guardians and protectors, what fantasy objects could their “loose parts” help them create?
I’ve often said being an art major informed my teaching. I use writing territories and many low-risk writing strategies. The trick is I’m not going to be ‘there,’ but merely a hologram. Stockman’s Loose Parts reminds me of writing territories but more refined and functional. When I’ve used writing territories in the recent past, some students are confused and don’t grab onto their own stories. The three timeline writing works, but even that can be traumatic. Allow writers to choose from their own writing territories, or collection of loose parts.
It may be wrong or naive of me to hope that the state standardized testing is gone, at least in its current form. The writing has morphed into solely writing to respond. It’s an autopsy of reading, too, and makes little or no connection to the symbiotic act of reading and writing.
Every time I feel I have my Professor McGonagall-mojo in place, inevitably realize I am only a Trelawney. I want to be firm, peering over the edge of my spectacles, jumping in and of animal bodies with ease and precision (aka going from my awkward projector on the cart to the tiny weird screen, to the tiny space for the doc camera, etc.: the tech in my room is…uncomfortable). If I could shout out with my confident Scottish brogue, “TWENTY POINTS FOR FIRST PERIOD!” with a flick of my wand, oh what wouldn’t I give?
But alas, every day my practice leans toward the Professor Trelawney style, and unfortunately, for the Dolores Umbridge’s of the world (of education) this is –not good. For me. But like Trelawney, I have a few tricks in my sturdy tapestry bag:
I know my content area (even if tea leaves and tarot cards are to ELA like potions are to Science: ELA content is confusing for more linear-minded folks)
I love my students. And I know it takes time and the small moments that can’t be documented to build relationships and trust. Expecting it to happen overnight doesn’t honor the humanity in teaching.
I love my colleagues: and a huge thank you to a mentor in the building who jumped in and helped me with one particular lesson.
Tessomancy 101: your first draft will not be your best. Pour another cup.
One of the cumulating assignments (not a project, mind you, an assignment) is a traditional essay. Here is the prompt:
Consider the meaning of the novel’s title, Inside Out and Back Again. How does this title relate to the universal experience of fleeing and finding home, and in what ways is Ha’s experience a specific example of this universal experience?
Essayius Patronus, yo! This is a high cognitive, rigorous and steep prompt. Deconstruct how much it’s asking for the second month of school from 8th-grade students (who are still essentially 7th-grade students): it’s…a lot.
But that’s my job, and what I love doing: how to build a scaffold so that no one falls off, or at least can get back on to meet the requirements.
Remember: this doesn’t happen overnight
Throughout the course of the novel and other readings, we curated quotes and moments
This was one interactive lesson: quote pages and comments.
Spend a fair amount of time having them just connect concepts to themselves.
We wrote a hook to ease them into the larger prompt about a time they moved or transitioned. This is a human experience. Some have personal stories that are similar to Ha’s: they are indeed, refugees, immigrants, and moving closer to home, many students have encountered big transitions of emotional lives.
And this is where my occasional Professor Trelawney got something right: one of our building mentors who frequents our afternoon classes helped me model the writing: I interviewed him as I tell all students –that’s what writers do–they ask questions for themselves and put the answers–and more questions–on the page.
Mr. Sudon helped me with this:
We wrote the hook first, then spent a class on the introductory/thesis paragraph (we had talked about thesis prior), and then each day as a class decided what parts to focus on next. Here’s where we landed:
Hook
Introductory/Thesis/Claim paragraph
Body Paragraph: Focus on Ha leaving/fleeing Saigon
Every day I provided sentence starters for the paragraphs (practice and identifying what they are doing as writers helped). Students wrote a little every day, by hand, then typed up what they could in a Google Doc, and submitted what they have done so far.
I know a few fell off the scaffold.
And to get them back on, I’ll put together a paragraph-by-paragraph resource document for them, and they can finish on their own. I’m thinking of doing stations next week
Station Ideas:
If you still need to type your draft
If you still need to write your draft
If you are nearly completed with the essay, need to make a few changes, and refer to the rubric
Ready to move on: provide enrichment ideas (use my Reading Road Trip blog for this purpose)
Thinking sooner than later, because it’s time to bring some magic into the mix.
“You can laugh! But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
PS: This past week was full of Crumple-Horned Snorkbacks, too:
*dog poop tracked in my already smelly room
*someone threw three students’ notebooks in the girls’ bathroom trash (I replaced them all, and am buying cool markers for the students whose notebooks were trashed)
*many confusing schedule changes and rearranging of students without consultation, discussion or teamwork –here’s to that getting better.
Writing is a gift–and perhaps if students of writing see themselves, their words, as gifts to themselves and others we can reshape how they feel about writing (which isn’t always positive).
Creative constraints provide necessary restrictions for all of us who wish to create productively. It may seem counter-intuitive, but creative constraints produce better focus and creativity, not less.
