Best Practices

  Joan C. Tornow, Ph.D.

Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit. -- e.e. cummings.

After studying elementary classrooms for four decades, I’m still astonished at children’s emotional intensity during these years. In the perennial debates over curriculum, we must never lose sight of this question: How can we make the classroom a place where every child feels a comfortable sense of belonging? A sense of belonging fosters self-esteem, and with self-esteem, a child is better able to function and to learn. Indeed, belonging, self-esteem, and achievement are all woven into the same fabric.

A classroom writing community is an excellent place to weave this fabric. When students share their concerns and areas of expertise, they bring more of themselves into the classroom. They contribute their knowledge and unique point of view to the community. And the community honors them for sharing where they've been and what they know.

Every child, whether he's been around the world or around the block, has a lifetime of experiences to try to make sense of. Given the chance to reflect and communicate, students are drawn toward making meaning as well as appreciating what makes each writer unique. Every child is nourished by the interest of others and, in Cummings' words, begins to see that he or she has something "worth listening to."

In classroom writing communities, a student works at writing much as a potter works at shaping a vase or a painter works at transforming a canvas. A writer, like any other craftsperson, can rarely produce a perfect product in one step. Writers at all levels benefit from spiraling through a variety of “writerly” activities including brainstorming, conferencing, revising, editing, and publishing. In a thriving workshop, these activities do not occur in lockstep. Rather, students choose the activity that will serve their authorial needs at any point in time, just as professional authors do.

A class like this is based on a networking model rather than a hierarchical model: the topics and processes are not directed from above, but emerge from the students themselves as they work together on their various projects. Teachers, of course, introduce new material, while providing structure and guidance. They, too, are inspired in seeing one child seek out another whom he knows to be an expert on pigs, Pittsburgh, or punctuation. They smile when seeing a child hand another a book, saying, "Look what I found. It's just what you were talking about yesterday!" Networks establish a healthy social dynamic based on sharing rather than competing.

A teacher might begin by simply having students call out topics while she records them on a chalkboard. One child’s idea sparks another and soon Peter, who said he had no ideas, suddenly thinks up a whole range of topics.

In such a session, students discover common interests and learn that classmates have expertise upon which all can draw. Sara is excited to learn that Trevor once lived in Korea where Sara's parents were born. Peter finds out that Brenda raises mice, something he wants to do. The door is open for students to seek each other out as experts on a host of topics. The teacher contributes an idea or two, modeling everyday topics as opposed to extraordinary experiences. Students learn that the best topics are not about superheroes and around‑the‑world trips, but about dilemmas and delights in everyday life.

When students are supported in writing about topics of their own choosing, the teacher is treated to a smorgasbord of information about her students. As many educators have emphasized, education should not be about coveringmaterial, but rather on uncovering and building upon the interests, passions, and curiosities of individual students. A writer’s workshop is a perfect place to engage students in constructing meaning as they engage in an ever-expanding network of ideas and information. 

At times, students form small groups to talk about their writing. Here they develop skills both in understanding and in being understood. A teacher advises: "Try to form a picture in your head of what the writer is telling you. If the picture is blurry, ask questions until the picture comes into focus." This activity shows the author what could be added to a draft to make it more understandable and interesting. The classroom writing community serves the growth and motivation of all within it. And all students come to feel they are members in good standing of the writing club. Their self-concept as writers and learners serves them well.

The first draft is a discovery draft in that it allows the writer to freely explore a given topic. A broad topic may benefit from becoming more focused, or a small topic may expand in directions not originally envisioned. Tony began writing about his grandfather’s farm, but the piece evolved into a treatise on what kinds of tractor seats are most comfortable. Tony’s pride about his expertise delighted everyone. He couldn’t wait to start a new piece devoted to another topic about farming – the harvest.

Although drafting requires intense effort, the child's motivation is at a peak. What child doesn't like to be listened to? What child doesn't look forward to "show‑and-tell"? But in a typical "show‑and‑tell," the focus is on something the child has – typically a toy. But in a writing community, the focus is on the child’s knowledge and experience. This type of sharing celebrates not what a children have but what they know, what they do, and who they are. 

The teacher, working at the board or using a projector, demonstrates the process of writing a first draft. She explains the thinking that is “behind the scenes” as she begins to write down words. For example, she might say, “I’m trying to capture how excited and scared I felt when I was your age and moved to a new school. I think I’ll start this way: ‘My mom waved to me as I stood in the school doorway with my Snoopy backpack on my back. I said to myself over and over, ‘Room seven, room seven,’ because I knew that was where I needed to go.”

The teacher makes her thinking explicit with comments such as, “I thought about starting the story with my eating breakfast but I decided to start right at the point when I come in the school. Does that get your attention?”

At least once a week, the teacher writes silently at hertable, just as the students are writing silently at their tables. She stares thoughtfully into space, then returns to writing in a burst of activity. She crosses out words and turns her paper sideways to insert new text. She models in numerous and ongoing ways that writing is complicated, and that ups and downs are normal. She also seeks input from the class, modeling how writers seek and use thoughtful critique.

The daily workshop closes with the students gathering in a cozy corner, perhaps amid pillows and stuffed animals. Each child has an assigned day to sit in the “Author's Chair." Only a few students are assigned to read on any one day. But this is a regular time to celebrate achievement, to practice listening, and to see that everyone has something valuable to say. There is a supportive routine: "We'll have two comments about what you especially like in Keesha's story and then two questions about what you'd like to hear more about."

How powerful is this sharing time! We forget how seldom children are sincerely asked for advice. They soon take pride in this role. And meeting in a circle to listen to an author read from his/her work … well, there’s nothing quite like it. It is certainly an authentic literacy event. 

The sharing of writing seems to have the most profound effect on those who do not see themselves as good students. Luke, a ten‑year‑old with learning disabilities, was enjoying lunch outdoors with several classmates. I asked if he would like to read his piece about crab fishing with his uncle. He shyly consented. In the shade of a tree, his friends listened with rapt attention, saying, "Wow!" and "You're lucky. I've never been fishing!" Then they moved into questions for Luke: "Did a crab ever pinch you?" "Do you eat crabs?" Luke's face glowed with the apparent realization that not only did the students value his story, but they valued him.

That night, Luke took his story home and revised it, strictly on his own initiative and internal motivation. He  added details which had come up in the discussion. His eyes

gleamed the next morning when he pulled his revision from his backpack and thrust it toward me. "When can I read again?" he asked. Luke's expertise in crab-fishing might never have surfaced in the day‑to‑day discourse of a typical urban classroom, but in a writing community, experts crop up every day. On that sunny afternoon, I think Luke realized that he, too, was a member in good standing of the writing community, for in a community everyone has a place.

A child may go "back to the drawing board" with a piece many times, or consider it finished in a relatively short time. In seeing the work of others every day, students develop an increasingly keen sense of what makes a piece finished and ready to be edited for publication. Then, the child refers to an editing checklist, reminding her of the conventions discussed by the class. She may consult class "experts" on a range of issues such as paragraphing, dialogue, spelling, grammar, and so forth.

The act of finding meaning for one's self, while at the same time communicating with others, is at the heart of the writing process. In a classroom writing community, each child grapples with this in a supportive atmosphere. This flow ‑‑ from working alone to working with others, to working alone again ‑‑ is an important dynamic, useful throughout life. 

Publishing can take many forms. If it’s possible to have the stories typed, perhaps by volunteers, the impact is powerful. When students see their words in type, they are often thrilled. Publishing little books with sturdy covers, renders the connection with commercial books tangible. The inclusion of a dedication and an “About the Author” blurb both help extend the book’s impact to the child’s family. If the child speaks multiple languages, this fact is mentioned, honoring diverse language skills. Favorite books and activities are also mentioned. Soon, everyone wants to edit, illustrate, and publish their own books.

Students take each newly‑published book home for a few days, further involving the family in the learning community. Later, each young author may go "on tour," reading his or her work to other classes. The shelf labeled “Local Authors” continually sprouts new titles – each as unique as the child who produced it. 

In a writing community, students work with a sense of direction and commitment rarely found in a traditional classroom, thus minimizing discipline issues. Teachers enjoy the tone of such classrooms. They find it energizing to learn from their students on a daily basis. In responding to the children's writing, the sensitive teacher models empathy, humor, and a sense of awe at the complexities and diversities of life. She helps each child grow in understanding of self, others, and the wondrous world we share.