“Try This”—An invitation for all students to be writers

Posted on Mar 23 2009 at 10:38 AM

8:55 AM: students walk in, grab their Writer’s Workshop binder, settle into their seat, and look up at the board to scan the day’s agenda and learning objectives. At the top, TRY THIS is written in bold, blue letters, welcoming students with a prompt: We all have memorable “firsts”—my first day of 6th grade, my first airplane ride, my first school dance, my first heartbreak, my first puppy, my first big fib, my first crush—make a list of your “firsts”. Feel free to keep it in the form of a list, or if a strong memory is triggered, go with it; follow that energy; tell your story. Without another word of direction, students dive in: pencils gripped tightly, shoulders hunched over, heads leaning forward, some hands moving swiftly across the page, some eyes squinting in deep thought, a chuckle, a smile, scribbling from one line to the next, flipping the page, a nudge then a quick peek at the “first” written by the boy sitting next to him—followed up by the satisfying head bob and “niiiiice”. Enjoying what I see, a community of writers, I pull up a chair and join in. Soon I, along with my students, am swept up in the many fond (and occasional wish-I-could-forget-that-time) memories of “firsts”—and students see that I am a writer too.

Careful to not lose track of time, knowing I am easily absorbed into these moments of writing, I look up at the clock—already 9:05—and I tell students to take another minute to wrap up their thoughts. Pencils still racing across the page, hesitant to let go—this is how we begin each day of Writer’s Workshop—students immersed in writing, lost in the process of transforming memories into words, finding their state of “flow” in the midst of a busy school day. These ten minutes of “Try This” writing are sacred (especially for reluctant writers), serving as an invitation for all students to enter into writing as a personal practice: an opportunity to explore, dig deep, be imperfect, misspell, understand what they’re really thinking and feeling, tell the truth, take risks. I remind students, “Don’t erase. Don’t cross out. Because there are no mistakes. ‘Try This’ writing is just for you, so let go of any preconceptions, any pressure, any urge to perfect your punctuation… for the next ten minutes, just sit back, relax, and let your mind speak through your pencil. You may be surprised with where you go and what you have to say. But don’t back away; follow your energy; this is your time.” I emphasize this point because the purpose of “Try This” is to make time for daily, low-stakes writing—a chance for students to run wild, feel free, release their writer within. It’s not a natural inclination for some students, but once they get going, they soon discover the magic and wonder of how language can be a vehicle to expose, reveal, and communicate their voice, their story. And they’re hooked.

“Try This” writing is daily proof that the key to students learning to write is not a mystery; it does not require a complex solution; it cannot be purchased as an expensive, package deal. The simple truth is this: students learn to write by writing. It is a journey that all writers embark upon and continue throughout their lives; and as I look around at my students, I smile. I know they are enjoying the ride.

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