Every teacher hopes for the moment when the kids GET it, and that moment is not often accompanied by bells or whistles; instead, sometimes it’s a subtle click and the students begin owning the material. They don’t regurgitate it just for approval; rather, they’ve taken it in, reformulated it so it makes sense to them, and have begun to incorporate it into their learning.
Best case in point: Friday Writing Workshop. At this point, the kids are well-versed in how to give feedback, and they are usually constructive. We had our last four writers present their work last week, and from the moment they started, I knew that I was sharing a moment with them that they owned. The first writer said she wanted feedback about flow, about word choice, about places where she could strengthen her analysis (they were writing a poetry analysis essay). Another asked for help on his organization. Another asked for feedback on the nebulous “everything.”
And their peers responded in kind. They offered insight about where the balance seemed off in their peers’ papers, where they noticed repetition, where a more concise word would suffice rather than the wordy, overly flowery construction another favored. They marked up drafts for specificity, circling points in the papers for added emphasis, making notes, helping, always helping.
I didn’t have to say a word. In fact, I think that if I’d have said anything, it would have first been repetitive, because the kids say everything (and more, actually) that I was thinking, and it also would have taken the power away from the writer to lead a workshop, receive feedback, and use that feedback.
They absolutely understand what a writing workshop is all about. What’s critical, in this space, I think, is that they own it. They feel the communal responsibility: that we are all responsible for making each of us better writers.
We are all writers here. Every single one of us.