Tag: Writing

The first rule of write club…

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Must give credit to John Spencer once again for this idea. He tweeted:

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Now the thought of Chuck Palahniuk writing the back story for a cartoon intrigues me, and I began to think of multiple mash-ups of writers and stories. This morning I envisioned a complete Nathanial Hawthorne Scarlet Letter version of Rugrats, whereas every time Angelica attempts to bully the babies she must wear her insignia “A” embroidered on her chest, serving multiple purposes. The adults are the villagers, of course, standing firm in judgment. Well, it played out better before I had coffee. Now I’m not so sure.

But what about Stephen King and a treatment of Roadrunner? I think Kurt Vonnegut could do justice to Bugs Bunny. Or as John quoted, ‘create sad backstories to all the Animaniacs.’ Brilliant. This, of course, is the essence of fan fiction, with a hefty side of writer’s craft, style, and voice for good measure.

zim

Allow me to meander a bit:

Ayn Rand takes over an episode of Invader Zim.

Neil Gaiman rewrites a ‘Hey, Arnold’ episode.

J.K. Rowling takes on Powerpuff Girls.

G.R.R. Martin rewrites Dexter’s Laboratory.

Dr. Seuss: Ren and Stimpy, of course.

Suzanne Collins and Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends.

Okay, I could go on all day. I am seeing a really fun lesson idea here: D&D dice with each number associated with an author and then a second roll for the cartoon episode. 

What other ideas come to mind?

Postcript:

 

Now–parents–think for a second. When I was growing up Bugs Bunny and his ilk alluded to operas, literature, film, etc. I know there are ‘jokes for grownups’ in current children’s media, today, too, but I am a bit out of touch with the ten and under crowd these days. My sons are 18 and 21, and they share gritty, funny binge-worthy media. We are long past the Rugrats days. If you’re a parent of kids under 10-11 and let them watch tv, what do they watch?

 

 

The Write Stuff

Cosmin-Munteanu-In-doubt

Writing to visual prompts is one of students’ favorite and most engaging things to do. It generates fruitful opportunities for a variety of perspectives, questions, mode (genre)  and forms (delivery system)  of writing.

To that end, I’ve been collecting visual prompts for years, and have fallen in love with Pinterest (late to the party, I know) as a means of collecting ideas:

https://www.pinterest.com/kellyclove/writing-image-prompts/

If you’re looking for a student interactive site, check out Write About and Writing Prompts. And I still add prompts connected to CCSS on my other writing blog, too: Up From the Gutter.

Story power.

Someone was listening.
Someone was listening.

Stories are powerful, and make things stick.

And teachers: it’s okay if you tell stories. Your talk is important, too, when balanced.

Really.

I am a proponent of the well-timed anecdote, the personal connection that makes content relatable and relevant.

There’s been a movement, or perhaps a misunderstanding of the new standards, to make the classroom so student-focused it’s lost sight of the other human in the room: the teacher.

Consistent with these NAEP recommendations, the Common Core Standards for Language Arts now call for an “overwhelming focus of writing throughout high school to be on arguments and informative/ explanatory texts” and that the distribution of writing purposes across grades “should adhere to those outlined by NAEP” (NGA/ CCSSO 2010e, 5). This de-emphasis on narrative writing is a mistake.

Gallagher, Kelly (2015-02-28). In the Best Interest of Students: Staying True to What Works in the ELA Classroom (Kindle Locations 1870-1873). Stenhouse Publishers. Kindle Edition.

 

But here is something we all know – we know we don’t start off in life as “teachers” (at least I didn’t, far from it) but simply ourselves. No matter what we end up doing for a profession, we have our stories first.

The best teachers, doctors, lawyers, salespersons, managers, nurses, CEOs, taxi drivers, scientists, football coaches, and politicians have one thing in common: the ability to connect with people through storytelling. Being able to tell a good story is not a school skill, it is a life skill, and as such, it should be given greater, not less, emphasis. If we want our students to be good storytellers, they need to read and write more narratives.

Gallagher, Kelly (2015-02-28). In the Best Interest of Students: Staying True to What Works in the ELA Classroom (Kindle Locations 1873-1876). Stenhouse Publishers. Kindle Edition.

And if you need more proof that “yes you will use narrative writing in ‘real life,’:

Using Narratives and Storytelling to communicate science with non-expert audiences: Abstract:Although storytelling often has negative connotations within science, narrative formats of communication should not be disregarded when communicating science to nonexpert audiences. Narratives offer increased comprehension, interest, and engagement. Nonexperts get most of their science information from mass media content, which is itself already biased toward narrative formats. Narratives are also intrinsically persuasive, which offers science communicators tactics for persuading otherwise resistant audiences, although such use also raises ethical considerations. Future intersections of narrative research with ongoing discussions in science communication are introduced.

Keywords: persuasion, ethics
From Writing Narratives About Science: Advice from People Who Do It Well by Maryn McKenna: To me the most important tool for telling narrative is time. Not just time within the narrative, which is what allows you to tell the story as a chronology, but time for research and reporting before you begin writing. Really good narratives are grounded in memorable characters confronting difficult problems, and it takes a lot of research time up-front to identify them.

“Confronting difficult problems:”  the mothers who choose not to have their children vaccinated, or the husband who supports his wife during breast cancer treatment, or the teenage girl struggling with an unwanted pregnancy. Real stories, with wide implications. And as we share our own stories, consider the same parameters we provide students: audience awareness, risk taking, language, and intent.

Passing notes in class, 1944

There are many scholarly articles about the use of narrative in multiple professions if you need additional research-based rationale if you’re ‘caught talking during class.’  Balance, of course, is always the rule of the day.

What do you write about when you write as a ‘person’ and not necessarily a ‘teacher person?’

 

The Write Thing.

We are having a grand conversation about the rigor of texts in our school, looking vertically both to the lower grades and the high school grades, to find appropriate, “rigorous” texts (as some define by high Lexile scores as the sole criteria).

As with many shifts, if I don’t do the reading and thinking on my own, I never can adapt or shift professionally. So, to the experts! Away!

Grant Wiggins defines rigor as being in the task (so therefore, not the teacher, and not the text).

So, what is rigor? Rigor is not established by the teaching. It’s not established by framing teaching against standards, therefore. Rigor is established by our expectations: how we evaluate and score student work. That means that rigor is established by the three different elements of assessment:

  1. The difficulty of the task or questions

  2. The difficulty of the criteria, as established by rubrics

  3. The level of achievement expected, as set by “anchors” or cut scores.

The blog post continues to discuss Webb’s Depth of Knowledge and rubrics for deeper thinking. This is so comfortable to me, and something I can wholly embrace. I feel that in my practice I have been doing this for years, but never had the clear light shining on the rest of the path.

And by now we are all familiar with this triangulation of text complexity:

common-core-in-public-and-school-libraries-21st-century-nonfiction-conference-15-638

But in the tug-of-war about rigorous texts, it is my mission to include writing. Deep, rich writing. I have been reading The Writing Thief by Ruth Culham: every so often we read an educational text that both validates and inspires. This is one of those. She masterfully balances the art of reading and writing, not an either/or.

How did I figure out that reading informs writing? Well, there’s a wealth of educational research to back up this thinking, which you’ll find in Chapter 2 . But mostly, experience has taught me that reading makes better writers. When I read poetry, I’m likely to try my hand at a poem or two. And while they may not be as memorable as those I’ve just enjoyed, writing my own provides me with a mental workout and a valuable learning experience. When I read a powerful nonfiction article, it makes me want to read more about that topic and find a way to weave that information into something I’m writing. When I see a campaign slogan, I think about how the candidate is saying a lot with a little. When I hear a song lyric that speaks to me, I find myself singing along, noticing the rhythm of the piece, and trying to replicate it in prose. I hear a powerful verb or phrase and steal it for my own writing. I’m a writing thief. It seems like every writer should be.

Culham, Ruth (2014-04-28). The Writing Thief: Using Mentor Texts to Teach the Craft of Writing (Kindle Locations 185-192). International Reading Association. Kindle Edition.

My question is, is there a triangle of complex writing tasks, and moreover, should there be? Culham blasts the standard, formulaic “five paragraph essay” model, along with other rigid modes of writing. The writing for standardized test she views as just one small mode of writing, not the end-all, be-all.

If you could create a writing model, what would yours include?

Off the top of my head, here are two charts I created that in no way do I feel are complete:

What if writing was shifted or turned depending on the engagement of the writer?
What if writing was shifted or turned depending on the engagement of the writer?
What if the reading complexity triangle were translated to a writing one? What would it look like? How could it be managed?
What if the reading complexity triangle were translated to a writing one? What would it look like? How could it be managed?

Sometimes the simplest means to have students engage in more complex ways is the minimalist approach. Don’t put numbers or word count on the task, but put voice and thinking above all. I have enjoyed adding to my collection on my writing blog Up From the Gutter (my writing blog for students/teachers) and think John Spencer and his team have done a phenomenal job with Write About.

And we need great mentor texts, and refreshing and singular voices to hear with new ears, and old friends to listen to. Here’s a list of high Lexile books I’ll be revisiting and researching. Some I’ve used for years, and others I need to take a look at:

https://bpljrreadingsuggestions.wordpress.com/2012/10/09/high-lexile-1000-yaadult-titles-in-bpls-collection/

But over-arching, consider the highest level of rigor, and that is evaluative, real-world issues:

http://www.tolerance.org/blog/diverse–books–spotlight

So, how would you describe the rigorous integration of writing and reading? Ultimately, we all agree we are guiding our students to find their voices. What say you?

 

WIHWT: the beginning of The Graveyard Book

There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.

The knife had a handle of polished black bone, and a blade finer and sharper than any razor. If it sliced you, you might not even know you had been cut, not immediately.

The knife had done almost everything it was brought to that house to do, and both the blade and the handle were wet.

The Graveyard Book  by Neil Gaiman Copyright 2008

Ten Reasons Why I'm Not Writing Right Now…

…and one reason why I will.

 writers-block

This morning, it dawned on me in the early golden lavender light on this September day that I have banished my voice. I haven’t been writing.

Not sure what it is about the morning routine that allows my brain to actually THINK a bit more clearly, but it is clarifying. And I am using this forum as a confessional — here are the reasons why I think I haven’t been writing lately:

10. Intimidation: I became suddenly, consciously aware of my creative vulnerability. My fig leaf is exposed. I sought out others to read my blog, give me insight and critiques, and I got it. Over 4,300 visitors have been to m blog since its inception. That is not as many as others, but more than some. The blogs I read, that I follow, are the apples on the tree, the knowledgeable and the truthful.

http://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/

http://jtspencer.blogspot.com/

http://doyle-scienceteach.blogspot.com/

http://theline.edublogs.org/

http://thisbrazenteacher.wordpress.com/

9. Jealousy: Springing forth from intimidation, comes jealousy. The internal snake, on its belly, envious of the walking upright freedom of exploration, takes her frustration out on others’ talents and creativity.

8. Sloth: Sometimes I’m just plain lazy, a four-letter words I despise.

7. Regrouping: Do I just need to scrape out my brain for awhile, and start over, mentally fresh? Perhaps.

6. Need fresh canvas: The experiences and anecdotes have become stale.

5. Fresh horses: Kind of feel rode hard and put up wet. Been riding the Cliche Ranch ponies for too long.

4. Genre Fatigue: Perhaps water-logged with bloated blog. Perhaps I should just try writing haikus every day, gently using freshly ground black ink from octopuses’ tears on the wings of dying moths.

3. ?

2. ?

1. Lack of skill: This relates back to intimidation. I am questioning the strength of my voice, and it feels weakened. The immunities have failed, and there is no vaccine to booster health.

The main reason why I must continue to write: It will save my life.

Overconfidence.

 jeff-koons-dog

Is there such a thing as “over-confidence?”

How do we learn to know when we don’t know something? As I was looking over the recent assessments, one student wrote “[Yay I feel so accomplished! <3].” I trying to puzzle out how or why this student stated this, because the score was 37%.

Was this student feeling overconfident, or perhaps was this a pre-emptive strike on the ego, knowing the responses weren’t very well crafted, and wanted to take away any negative feelings?

I don’t know.

I am over-analyzing it, perhaps.

A few years ago, when I was working on my Masters, a requirement was to take a public speaking course. The instructor was really more of a peer than a mentor, only because, well, I’m older, and this isn’t my first time at the rodeo. In any case, he really knew his stuff. He had lived through public embarrassment at a speaking engagement, and made it his life’s mission to really learn how to be an effective public speaker. No memorization, just key points, and use the adrenaline, the anxiety, to move, have energy, and passion about one’s topic. I have always remembered that–think of the big points I want to make, and use the stage anxiety of being in front of over 130 people every day as fuel to energize and persuade my audience of key points.

But, when one does nothave this anxiety, does it mean one may not have the passion, too? So, if a student bombs a test, and says, “Yay, me!” and truly believes they aced it, were they passionate about what they were learning in the first place? (If a test falls in the forest, and no one’s there to grade it, does it assess anyway?)

I calculate that I have probably taken over 400 tests in my lifetime. I count every year of school from first grade through twelfth, and then college, and then my master’s program. This probably includes driver’s license testing, too, but not blood tests. I got a B- on that one. Some of those tests & quizzes caused me great anxiety, so much so that I would probably classify it as test anxiety at a clinical level. But I muddled through. Most tests caused my adrenaline to pump up, in a good way–they were a challenge, and I wanted to do well, and see if I could. I like taking tests, if truth be known.

I don’t know, though, what I would do if the tests I had to take meant that I wouldn’t graduate from high school. Not that I wouldn’t have passed, but we don’t know that, do we? I was never put to the test. No wonder students have checked-out mentally and emotionally. When there’s that level of anxiety associated with something, it is no longer a challenge but a real-life game of survival, ala Lord of the Flies style, not the television game show style. Next thing you know pigs’ heads are going on pikes, and there will be face paint. That’s usually not conducive to classroom management.

We have to think of some alternatives. Every time students are tested, teachers are being tested, too, in loco magistra, if you will. So, while our level of anxiety has risen, yours has not? The simple answer in our state would have been to keep the test, but throw out the high-stakes portion, perhaps? It is part of your graduation portfolio, but not the be-all, end-all? Too late for that, methinks.

Hope not, though. I prefer adrenaline over anxiety any day.