CREATIVE WRITING: A CURRICULUM FOR SECONDARY STUDENTS

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CREATIVE WRITING:

A CURRICULUM FOR SECONDARY STUDENTS

BASED ON PROCESS WRITING AND PEER RESPONSE GROUPS

Chandra Selene Friend

Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the degree of Master of Arts in Education

at Goddard College

Advisor Date

Second Reader Date

Goddard College Intensive Residency Program in Education

Spring 2005

Abstract

This high school-level creative writing curriculum begins with an overview of the

course’s basic structure, followed by a detailed list of learning objectives. Teaching methods





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Table of Contents

Abstract page i

Preface page iii

Chapter 1 – Creative Writing: A Curriculum for Secondary Students Based on Process Writing

and Peer Response Groups page 1

Chapter 2 – Developing the Creative Writing Curriculum: The Academic, Professional, and

Personal Process page 42

References page 84

Appendix A: Selected Annotated Bibliography page 87

Appendix B: The “Road Test”: A Four-Session Writing Workshop Plan page 91

Appendix C: Autobiographical Material page 96



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Preface

Why is creative writing important? By “creative” I mean writing propelled by

imagination; writing that expresses or explores new ideas (or old ideas in new ways); writing that

comes out of a writer. Creative writing is existentially important for young people in school

because it allows room for their selfhood to breathe. More practically, creative writing can help

students develop all of their writing skills, and can inspire a renewed interest in reading.

Creative writing is not about hatching little novelists (although that could happen). In

fact, writing is worthwhile even for the near-all of us who do not possess a towering talent. We,

too, can make art, if not perhaps Great Art. It might even be enjoyable to someone else or two

(and to ourselves, we hope). Many people find writing to be an effective means of working

through the knotty problems of life. And of course, writing is also half of literacy, which is an

economic and cultural requirement of all capable individuals in our society.

But mainly, I think, writing is worthwhile because it helps us be better human beings.

We exist in a matrix of language, so the more we engage with language, become power users of

language, the more dynamic is our engagement with life. Writing, as the most concrete and

deliberate expression of language, increases our agency by enhancing our ability to articulate

(and clarify and even create) thought. Writing helps us know what we think and name what we

feel. These abilities make us bigger and stronger, psychologically and spiritually. We cancommunicate and relate better with others. We can make informed decisions about our selves

and our lives. We have voice.



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Chapter 1

Creative Writing: A Curriculum for Secondary Students

Based on Process Writing and Peer Response Groups

“Our worst enemy is orthodoxy. When we teach to someone else’s – or even our own –

rules about what we and students can and cannot do, we surrender authority and

abrogate our responsibilities as professionals. Worse, we stop learning” (Atwell, p.

254).

Contents

A. About the Author

B. Overall Goal and Course Description

C. Learning Objectives

D. Teaching Methods

E. Assessment

F. Learning Activities

G. Additional Materials

H. References and Resources



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A. About the Author

Chandra Friend was educated at a variety of schools that practiced a variety of

educational philosophies – from Montessori and Waldorf to a music magnet school, a college

preparatory high school, and an elite liberal arts college. Several years after completing her

B.A., she decided to return to school permanently by becoming a high school English teacher.

Ms. Friend’s diverse experiences as a student and her budding identity as a progressive educator

drew her to attend Goddard College for her M.A. in Education. This curriculum was developed

as her master’s thesis project in 2006. Ms. Friend hopes in the near future to have some fun, be

challenged, and change the world one teacher at a time.

B. Overall Goal and Course Description

The true overall goal of the creative writing course – its function – is to provide a

balanced mixture of structure and freedom that allows and encourages student writers to develop

writing fluency and access their own writing voice.

The course duration is one semester (sixteen weeks). The curriculum is geared toward

high school students (9-12) with little prior experience with creative writing. It is not a

standards-based course. If implemented in a public high school, it would probably be offered as

an elective. The course consists of four units, each four weeks in length. The first unit is anintroduction to the “process writing” method and to peer response/ small group work. The

second unit is on short story writing, and the third is on poetry writing. The last unit gives

students an opportunity to write at least one more piece in the form of their choice; the remainder

of the term will be devoted to final revisions of existing work and the compilation of portfolios.

The final portfolios will then be bound together into one volume for publication and distribution

in the community.

A set weekly schedule provides a regular routine of writing, reading, and feedback

activities. The Methods section discusses how to conduct each type of activity. Each unit also

includes mini-lessons and writing exercises specific to the unit’s theme and goals. Only a few

lessons are designed to be used on specific days, however. On the other days, the teacher has

discretion in choosing readings, mini-lessons, and writing activities (according to the weekly

schedule) to aid students’ progress at the time. A variety of assessment methods and tools are



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provided (in the Methods and Assessment sections, and in the Additional Materials section) to

help the teacher determine students’ needs throughout the semester. Reading suggestions and

additional writing exercises (the Teacher’s Idea Well) are included in the Additional Materials

section.

C. Learning Objectives

These are in order from concrete to abstract. Please note that very specific, measurable

outcomes, in learning writing, are often the least important (for example, correct spelling is much

less important that the vaguer “interesting style”).

1. Students will know basic literary terms and concepts (metaphor, alliteration, point of

view, etc.). Their knowledge will be evident when students can: a) identify literary terms and

concepts in context (published, peer, or own writing); b) explain literary terms and concepts to

peers; and c) deliberately use literary techniques to achieve desired effects in their own writing.

2. Students will understand the writing process. Their understanding will be evident when

students can: a) freewrite for ten minutes; b) use ideas generated in freewriting to draft a new

piece; c) reflect on their writing in oral conferences with peers or the teacher; d) revise their

drafts, possibly more than once, using their own, peer and teacher feedback; e) edit their revised

drafts into finished pieces ready for publication. Effective use of the writing process will befurther evident when students can: f) explain the phases of the process to peers; and g) explain

how they have adapted the process to suit their individual needs and preferences as writers.

3. a) Students will be able to give helpful feedback in the context of small peer response

groups. This will be evident when students: a) listen attentively while the writer is reading their

work and while group-mates are speaking; b) orally paraphrase what they heard; c) point out

specific passages which are strong or effective and explain why those passages stand out for

them; d) point out specific passages which are confusing or unclear and explain why those

passages are confusing or unclear to them; e) avoid evaluative statements about the writing; f)

exhibit compassion toward the writer and their group-mates; g) discuss writing as though it

were fiction, unless the writer voluntarily indicates otherwise.

3. b) Students will be able to receive feedback in the context of small peer response groups.

This will be evident when students, in their role as writers, a) lead discussion of their own work



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by asking questions of their group-mates; b) listen attentively to others’ comments; and c)

record comments for future use in revising their work.

3. c) Students will be able to facilitate feedback in the context of small peer response groups.

This will be evident when students, in their role as monitor a) keep group members on task; b)

curb arguments and negative comments; and c) solicit comments when necessary.

4. Students will be able to write an effective short story. This will be evident when

students: a) depict one or more characters through description, exposition, and dialogue; b)

create a setting in which the action of the story occurs; c) construct a plot with a beginning,

turning point, and resolution (not necessarily in that order); and d) select and consistently use a

specific point of view to tell the story.

5. Students will be able to write an effective poem. This will be evident when students

deliberately use: a) line breaks; b) imagery and metaphor; and c) other poetic devices of their

choice (for example: regular meter, rhyme, alliteration, personification).

6. Students will demonstrate voice in their writing. This will be evident when students’

writings show: a) consistent individuality in diction, syntax, organization, tone, imagery and

figurative language, and choice of theme or topic; b) a distinct worldview, perspective, point of

view, or opinion; and c) a sense of emotional resonance, a sense of authenticity or realness, and a

sense of the person/writer behind the writing. *Caution: This set of goals is especially liable to

subjective interpretation.7. Students will demonstrate fluency in their writing. This will be evident when students: a)

write articulately and expressively; b) effectively develop and organize ideas; c) use syntax,

diction, grammar and punctuation correctly OR for deliberate effect. *Caution: This set of goals

is especially liable to subjective interpretation.

8. Students will feel more confident about their writing. This will be evident when

students report that their writing exhibits: a) authentic voice; b) interestingness; and c)

improvement in correct writing mechanics. *Caution: This set of goals, if reached, will

probably be reached indirectly.

9. Students will be less fearful of writing. This will be evident when students report that

they find writing to be: a) easier; b) more enjoyable; and c) more interesting than before the

course. *Caution: This set of goals, if reached, will probably be reached indirectly.



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10. Students will be more interested in reading. This will be evident when students report

that they a) seek out and choose their own reading material; b) find reading to be more

enjoyable; and b) find reading to be more interesting. *Caution: This set of goals, if reached,

will probably be reached indirectly.

D. Teaching Methods

The following are in order from most frequent to least.

• Individual writing (process method)

• Small-group work (peer response)

• Mini-lessons

• Student/teacher exchange – (see also “Guidelines for Teacher Response” in the Additional

Materials section)

• Reading and whole-class discussion of reading

• Whole-class sharing of writing

Individual writing (process method)

The process writing approach is widely considered to be the best practice in writing

instruction (see Williams, p. 99, for his citation of NAEP data that support this method.) Theeight pieces of the process are: invention/prewriting; planning; drafting; pausing; reading;

revising; editing; and publishing. These pieces are called “phases” rather than “stages,” because

the real process of writing does not occur in a specific sequence. The phases don’t follow a strict

order, and every writer has different methods. The basic idea is to not write the piece all at once.

When writers become more aware of the phases of the process, their own writing process

happens more easily and effectively.

A common concern among advocates of process writing is that students “spend far too

much time fiddling with sentences and punctuation rather than concentrating on getting their

ideas on paper” (Williams, p. 115). Rather, the writer should consider himself/herself to be the

sole audience of the first draft. Only later should the writer’s energies be devoted to revision and

editing. Different parts of the brain perform editing functions than perform idea-generation and



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exposition functions. It is far more effective to do these tasks at different times than to try to

write perfectly and interestingly at once.

The first step in teaching the writing process is to introduce your students to the

“freewriting” or “stream-of-consciousness” technique. This will be the staple writing method for

the course. Essentially, freewriting means just sitting and writing for at least ten minutes. No

worrying about grammar or spelling, no stopping to think of the “right word” or trying to be

organized. Just blather – rant – write.

Ask students to start by writing down a summary of the assignment or exercise (or of

their own idea, if applicable). If they get stuck, tell them go back and reread the last couple of

lines they wrote, then keep going. They don’t have to write in complete sentences. If they find

themselves using line breaks, as though writing a poem, that’s fine. They should say what they

want to say in whatever way it naturally comes out. The key is to write in your real voice.

If many of your students speak a non-Standard English vernacular, or if English is not

their first language, you might invite them to do their freewrites in their home dialect or

language. This will allow them much better access to their thoughts and ideas. The revision

process will provide ample opportunity for them to “translate” as needed.

After the first freewriting session, hold a short whole-class discussion. Questions to ask

might include: How did it go? Would a couple people be willing to “tell the story” of their

freewriting? Other experiences? We’re trying to get a sense of what this process is like fordifferent people; how well it “works” (or doesn’t). How do people feel about the actual thing

they just wrote? Is it nonsense? Is it great? Are parts of it worth keeping, reworking, going

further with?

Immediately after this discussion, ask the students to go back and read what they just

wrote. Suggest they read it a couple times over. Ask them to underline the parts they like. At

the bottom of the last page, they should write an encapsulation of what their freewrite is about.

This doesn’t necessarily have to be a sentence – just a summary.

For the first revision session, students will revise their own work through a kind of re-

freewrite. Ask them to read over their own freewrite from last time; then ask them to do a

second freewrite in which they refocus their ideas. The idea is to figure out what’s really good in

the first freewrite, and to start with restating that, either verbatim or by rewording it. Then they

should continue in the freewrite mode, taking their ideas further, or deeper. They should use the



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pieces they underlined, and use their summary as a jumping-off point. (If a student is really

completely dissatisfied with the first freewrite, you might allow them to start afresh with another

freewrite). Do this re-freewrite for ten minutes.

Several mini-lesson topics dealing with the nitty-gritties of the revision process are given

in the Learning Activities section for Unit One. Less nitty-gritty is the actual process through

which writers decide what to keep, what to delete, and what to alter. Students will (we hope)

find their peer response group’s feedback helpful in making revision decisions. Reading one’s

work aloud can quickly bring one’s attention to awkward passages and technical errors.

However, the most useful, and the simplest, revision technique is to allow some time between

drafts. Forgetting it a little bit allows the writer to re-see (re-vision) the details of their piece.

On writing days, have extra paper, notebooks, pens and pencils available for students

who did not or could not bring their own. Maintain quiet as much as possible so that students

who need silence in order to write are accommodated. Allow students to listen to music on

headphones at low volume. You might also play music softly in the background – classical (if

they can stand it), jazz (not too experimental), or instrumental electronic music. Avoid music

with audible lyrics, as these can be distracting for writers.

As much as possible, the teacher should participate in writing activities and share his or

her own writing along with the students.

While everyone is writing, take the opportunity to hold very brief conferences withindividual students. Try to meet with each student over the course of a week or so. In

conference, ask the student to describe what they are currently working on, and what they plan to

do next – revise? which stage? write something new? what? Use the “Weekly Record of Student

Progress” form (in the Additional Materials section) to keep track of whom you have talked with

and what was discussed.

Further reading: Peter Elbow, James D. Williams.

Small-group work (peer response)

Group process expert Karen Spear (1988) notes that writing and collaboration are natural

partners, because of the social nature of language (and thus of writing, too) (p. 14). Indeed,

writing is almost always a collaborative effort in professional settings. Group work capitalizes



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on the nature of writing as a process of thought: ideas develop during writing and during

conversation.

However, work groups only work if the group members have the requisite social skills as

well as the writing skills (or whatever is being worked on). In writing classrooms, then, social

interaction skills must be explicitly taught simultaneously with the writing skills specified by the

curriculum.

Structuring the groups: Using the completed “Work Group Preferences” forms (provided

in the Additional Materials section) and any criteria of your own, set up groups of four students.

Four is a better group size than three because a four-person group can still function if one

member is absent. Give each student a printout of their group, with full names and a number (1-

4) for each member. The numbers will help ensure rotation of the “monitor” role. Keep a master

list of the groups for your own reference.

Responsibilities of group members: In peer response sessions, the writer whose work is

getting feedback will lead the group during that time. This means that the writer is responsible

for asking questions (using the feedback guidelines and/or their own questions), listening

attentively to feedback, and taking notes for use in revision. In each group work session, one

member will be designated as the “monitor.” The monitor must be someone other than the

writer. The monitor’s job is to keep group members on task/on track, and to keep the peace. The

monitor will pay attention to the time, ensuring that everyone gets a chance to participate. Themonitor will also do their best to ensure that no one dominates the conversation, and no one gets

left out. That might mean letting someone know it’s time to hear another voice, or encouraging

someone else to contribute to the discussion. The monitor also has the responsibility to stop any

bashing or cruelty that might occur. While disagreements in opinion are welcome (and often

helpful to the writer), arguments about whose opinion is “correct” are pointless, and the monitor

should keep an ear open for such instances. The monitor will also point out to the writer if they

are arguing, apologizing, or making excuses instead of just listening.

Before the first time students work in groups, the teacher, with a volunteer writer, should

model for the whole class how a successful feedback session might go. While the writer is

reading, look at their face, not at the writing on the page; listen closely; after the reading,

paraphrase back to the writer, point out strengths, and ask clarifying questions. After the

demonstration, ask the class to think about and discuss the following: What do people do when



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they listen to one another? What do people do that shows they are listening closely? How do

you know when someone has heard and understood you?

Then demonstrate a not-so-successful feedback session: Look around the room or at the

writing instead of at the writer; jump in (as soon as the writer finishes reading) with a story of

your own similar experience; make evaluative, judging statements; give advice (“You should do

this, that, the other thing”). During discussion, ask students: What do people do that shows they

are not listening closely? How do you know when someone has not heard and understood you?

What is bad listening? What is good listening? For both speaker and listener, what are the

difficulties and benefits of listening well?

These demonstrations and discussions should help students begin to develop their

listening skills. Listening involves four skills: attending, reflecting, drawing out, and connecting.

Attending means paying close attention to what the speaker says; it also means believing what

peers say is important, not just what the teacher says. Reflecting involves paraphrasing back to

the writer/speaker what you understand them to mean. Drawing out means asking questions of

the writer/speaker, getting them to explain, explore, and elaborate on their ideas. Connecting,

finally, is the necessary step of summarizing and pulling together all the various ideas that have

come up during a group work session.

There are two rules that will help ensure good response sessions. It might be a good idea

to post these somewhere in the classroom.Rule 1: Be compassionate.

Rule 2: All work will be read as fiction unless the writer says otherwise.

Pat Schneider of the Amherst Writers Workshop (2003) has found Rule 2 to be a very

effective way to protect confidentiality and emotional boundaries: “Only when all work is given

the dignity of being treated as literature, as separate from the life story of the writer, can a group

of writers be truly free to write about anything” (p. 239).

Feedback is not the same thing as criticism or evaluation! It is essential that the teacher

get students to understand and believe and practice this approach in peer response groups. The

feeling of unease that arises when students believe they are being criticized, or that they must

criticize their peers, is the killer fog for peer response groups.



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If possible, and especially during the first few weeks of the semester, give students an

opportunity to do at least one revision of a piece before asking them to share it with their

response groups.

Further reading: Nancie Atwell, Peter Elbow, Pat Schneider, Karen Spear.

Mini-lessons

Each day, the teacher should give a mini-lesson, a five- to seven-minute presentation on

one rather small topic at a time. The mini-lesson will probably get the most student attention if

given at the beginning of the class period. This is the time for the teacher to share personal

knowledge about writing, words of wisdom from professional writers, and student insights, too

(you can invite someone to tell the class about a solution or discovery they’ve made). Mini-

lesson topics usually fall into one of three categories: procedures, writing craft, and technical

skills (conventions).

Mini-lessons are most effective when the teacher carefully chooses to discuss an issue

because of its immediate relevance. If students are starting to revise their first piece, for

example, the teacher should offer several mini-lessons on revision techniques.

The following list of mini-lesson topics will be helpful in envisioning the kinds of

knowledge and skills the students are learning in this course. Topics relevant to specific units

are restated at the beginning of the Learning Activities section of each unit.• Introduction to course, including rules, expectations, syllabus.

• Instruction in writing process.

• Instruction in peer response/small group work – the basics (include demo).

• Issues in personal writing: courage, confidentiality, appropriate choices of work to share with

peers, appropriate responses to others’ work.

• Generating ideas, psyching yourself into writing, “writer’s block,” and self-discipline.

• Expectations readers have of writers; expectations writers have of their readers (teacher,

group, class); reminder that writing class is not therapy.

• Revision techniques (use carets, arrows, circling and crossing out; cutting and rearranging;

also conceptual aspects).

• Instruction in peer response/small group work – further discussion.

• The short story: What is it? What elements does it have? What makes a story a good story?



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• Focus: Don’t describe every little thing the characters do.

• Showing is better than telling. As Mark Twain once said, “Don’t say the old lady screamed.

Bring her on and let her scream.”

• Tone: how word choice affects the emotional resonance of the writing.

• Fiction know-how: narration, description, dialogue, genre, plot, setting, characterization,

point of view, flashbacks and foreshadowing, leads and conclusions. Not all at once!

• Poetry: What is it? What makes a poem a poem? What makes a poem a good poem?

• Poetry know-how: alliteration, assonance, consonance, rhyme, meter, line breaks (end-stop

and enjambment), stanza, imagery, metaphor, specific > abstract. Not all at once!

• Poetry forms: history of formal poetry in English; couplet, haiku, limerick, sonnet, villanelle,

sestina, ballad, free verse, rap, etc.

• Poetry in performance: reading aloud; poetry slams; oral tradition.

• Instruction in editing, including editing marks.

• Instruction in preparing work for publication (format, font, printing, layout).

• About the publishing world: literary magazines, chapbooks, and self-publishing.

• Your prospects as a future professional writer: slim (but that doesn’t mean there’s no point!);

importance of writing skill in any/all professional and personal contexts (communication,

advocacy in commerce, politics, relationships).

Further reading: Nancie Atwell.

Student/teacher exchange

This curriculum provides four mechanisms through which the teacher can instruct,

monitor, and give feedback to individual students. Each mechanism is described below. The

“Guidelines for Teacher Response” in the Additional Materials section include a form to aid the

teacher in weekly recordkeeping and note-taking, as well as instructions for writing narrative

responses to each student after each unit.

The first tool is the once-weekly notebook check. During writing time on Tuesdays, the

teacher should go around the room and make sure that every student a) has their writing

notebook (and is writing in it!), and b) has at least begun each exercise or assignment given since

the previous notebook check. If a student does not have their notebook, please provide them

with a few sheets of paper so that they can participate in the day’s activities.



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The second tool is the weekly due date. Every Thursday, each student must turn

something in: an exercise they are planning to revise into a finished piece, a piece currently

being revised, a piece ready to be edited (for correct spelling, punctuation, and usage), or a

brand-new piece. The teacher should hand these back the next day, with written feedback

appropriate to the piece’s level of completion. Editing drafts should be edited for correctness

only (no comments on content); all other drafts should receive no editing feedback. The teacher

should respond as a reader to these drafts, asking questions and pointing out strengths and areas

of confusion. These guidelines align the teacher’s mode of response with the writing process and

with the principles being cultivated in the peer response group work sessions.

One-on-one conferences are the third kind of exchange. The teacher should try to meet

briefly (for less than five minutes) with each student once a week. During writing time is

probably the likeliest opportunity to pull a student aside for a short chat. The teacher should ask

the student to describe what they are currently working on. Do not ask the student to read their

piece or read it yourself (even silently) during the conference. Writers need to verbalize their

thoughts as their writing unfolds. Listen closely to the student, then ask one or two questions to

help them clarify where they’re going with their piece. After the conference, be sure to make a

few notes about the student’s concerns and progress. If you notice several students having

similar problems in their writing, you might use the next day’s mini-lesson time to address it and

offer solutions.The fourth feedback mechanism is the teacher’s narrative evaluation at the end of each

unit. Careful recordkeeping and note-taking over the four weeks of the unit will enable the

teacher to write helpful, informed reports for each student. See the Assessment section and the

“Guidelines for Teacher Response” in the Additional Materials section for more on the end-of-

unit report.

Further reading: Nancie Atwell, Alfie Kohn.

Reading and whole-class discussion of reading

All writers need to read, and read a lot. Research consistently finds that good writers are

avid readers, and vice versa. Creative writing students need to read contemporary poetry and

stories – relatively recent writing. It is important for developing writers to be exposed to work

done in familiar language, about familiar topics and situations, taking place in recognizable



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worlds (i.e. the present day, or the very recent day). Tennyson and Eliot are not good models for

today’s poets, although they are always worth reading in and of themselves, and as inspiration.

O’Connor and Balzac wrote wonderful stuff, but their work reflects long-gone eras and

vernaculars. Contemporary work also shows developing writers what styles, themes, and genres

appeal to today’s audiences (or at least to today’s anthology editors) – a secondary consideration.

The resource list for this course includes several recommended anthologies of

contemporary poetry, short stories, and works in other forms (see Best American Nonrequired

Reading series). The “sudden fiction” anthologies would be especially useful to creative writers.

These stories, widely varying in subject matter and style, are short enough to read (and re-read)

in a single class period. Their shortness enables the reader to hold an entire story in the mind at

once, turning it around and thinking about its techniques, structure, tone, and effect. Such

practice would be useful for writers learning to conceptualize their own stories.

I recommend purchasing a couple of copies of each book on the resource list. Make

these available to students in the classroom library. Each student should be issued at least one

contemporary poetry anthology and one contemporary short story anthology to take home.

Preferably they would own their copies, which would allow them to annotate. Additional

readings can be provided in packets (for each unit), as handouts (day-to-day), or on the overhead

(if your district has an insufficient paper budget).

Some reading should be assigned as homework (longer stories would be a good choice).Shorter stories and poems can be read in class, either during sustained silent reading time or

aloud (by the teacher or a student volunteer). You may choose to read a poem or story aloud in

class after students have already read it for homework.

To ensure students are reading work that is relevant and interesting to them, you might

assign one student to bring in a favorite poem or story on each reading day.

See Additional Materials for a handout on responding to published work.

When discussing assigned reading as a class, focus on specific aspects of the text so that

students can begin to understand how the authors create meaning. For example, when discussing

stories, ask students to attend to narration, description, dialogue, genre, plot, setting,

characterization, point of view, flashbacks and foreshadowing, leads and conclusions, and tone.

When discussing poetry, attend to alliteration, assonance, consonance, rhyme, meter, line breaks

(end-stop and enjambment), stanza, imagery, metaphor, and form. The importance of specificity,



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of showing rather than telling, should be emphasized repeatedly. Ask students to point to places

in the text that convey meaning through concrete imagery. How does the author show the reader

who this character is? What are your feelings about the character, or about the story; where in

the text do those feelings get sparked?

Allow students to find and make their own meanings in the text. The teacher’s are not

the only “answers” – it is crucial that students develop a sense of personal and intellectual

connection with what they read.

Further reading: Nancie Atwell.

Whole-class sharing of writings

Set aside a class period at or near the end of each unit for students to read their finished

pieces aloud to the whole group. The first time you do this, you might want to allow two half-

periods, so that students who are too nervous to read on the first day will have another

opportunity.

Place the desks in a circle, or invite students to sit on the floor in a circle. This

arrangement not only helps create a sense of community, but also alleviates some of the stage-

fright that comes of standing at the front of the classroom and reading/speaking to rows of seated

people.

Do not insist that every student read. Ask for a volunteer to go first; then let each writerdecide when to read. You might read some of your own writing, too.

This is not the time for comments or responses – this is finished work. However, you

should invite discussion once everyone who wants to read has done so. Students will likely have

questions for each other (How did you come up with that idea? Is that a true story?) and plenty of

opinions. Use a light touch when moderating – this is a literary conversation!

At the end of the semester, it is time to publish students’ work. Ask each student to turn

in at least four pieces of finished writing. Everything that is turned in on time, correct, typed,

and formatted as the teacher requires, should be published in the class

chapbook/magazine/portfolio. There is no need to institute standards of quality or make

selections by vote – this is each writer’s time to be heard.



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E. Assessment

Assessment/evaluation and grading are not the same thing! Writing will be assessed by

the writers, by their group members, and by the teacher in order to help the writers make

progress (formative assessment). Course grades, on the other hand, will be based on work

completed, attendance, and class participation.

There are two sources of assessment: Student self-reporting of progress (see “Student

Report on Self, Group, and Class” in Additional Materials section) and teacher observation of

progress. The student report is designed to aid the teacher’s assessment of each student, but also

to help the students themselves understand their own progress.

Teacher assessments include observation (and record-keeping), oral conferences with

students, written feedback to students on specific pieces of writing, and written narrative reports

to students at the end of each unit. See “Guidelines for teacher response to student work” in the

Additional Materials section.

Technical errors should not be corrected, either by peers or by the teacher, until the writer

submits a draft for editing. See “Individual Writing (process method)” in the Methods section

for the reasoning behind this guideline.

The teacher may want to give a few quizzes on readings, and on literary terms and

techniques, to ensure that students do the work as well as to assess their knowledge. I have

found that students are more likely to do their homework if they know they will be tested on it.If a student answers more than 50% of the quiz questions correctly, they should receive two

check marks; lower scores should earn one check mark.

Suggested grading method: This is a pass/fail course. Each assignment turned in on time

will receive two check marks. Each late assignment will receive one check mark. Late work

will be accepted within one week of the original due date (i.e., if the original due date was a

Thursday, the last day a student can turn in the assignment and get credit would be the following

Thursday). The reason for this policy is that students will not be able to participate fully in the

class if they are doing work more than a week later than everyone else; also, it will help motivate

students to do their work in a timely manner! In order to pass the course, students must turn in

70% of the work.



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If possible, teacher and students should assess the methods of assessment at least once

during the semester. This could be done through whole-class discussion, addressed in individual

conferences, or given as a writing assignment.

F. Learning Activities

The weekly structure outlined below will provide regularity and structure to the course,

which otherwise is quite flexible. No more than two homework assignments per week are

advised, neither of which should be over the weekend. Please see the Methods section for details

about doing writing, reading, and peer response in this course.

Monday: Writing

- Assign reading homework for Tuesday

Tuesday: Reading, writing

- Notebook check

Wednesday: Peer response, writing if time permits

- Assign writing homework for Thursday

Thursday: Writing, typing

- Draft (or final copy) due to teacherFriday: Peer response OR reading, writing

- Hand back drafts (or final copies) to students

Unit One: Writing and Responding

Goals to focus on:

2. Students will understand the writing process.

3. a) Students will be able to give helpful feedback in peer response groups.

3. b) Students will be able to receive feedback in peer response groups.

3. c) Students will be able to facilitate feedback in peer response groups.

Mini-lesson topics:

• Introduction to course, including syllabus, expectations, and rules (the teacher’s, then ask if

more are needed).



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• Instruction in writing process.

• Instruction in peer response/small group work – the basics (include demo).

• Issues in personal writing: courage, confidentiality, appropriate choices of work to share with

peers, appropriate responses to others’ work.

• Generating ideas, psyching yourself into writing, “writer’s block,” and self-discipline.

• Expectations readers have of writers; expectations writers have of their readers (teacher,

group, class); reminder that writing class is not therapy.

• Revision techniques (use carets, arrows, circling and crossing out; cutting and rearranging;

conceptual aspects).

Activities:

Day One:

• Discussion of teacher’s and students’ academic and behavioral expectations and “rules,”

including what students may write about (drugs? sex? violence? suicide and abuse? slander?

expletives?).

• Get right into the writing! Ask the class to freewrite on a specific topic – something

important. The teacher may suggest the topic; or the class can brainstorm as the teacher

records their ideas on the board, then democratically choose one topic for all to write on.

The teacher should do this exercise along with everyone else. After writing for about ten

minutes, ask for volunteers to summarize or read aloud what they wrote. Feedback should bevery brief, and strictly limited to positive comments. This exercise helps students understand

that in this class, writing is a community activity, not just a private transaction between

teacher and students.

Day Two:

• Option One: Truth and fiction. Ask each student to write a ten-minute autobiography in

which at least one detail is fictional. Volunteers may share their autobiographies, and the rest

of the class gets three guesses as to what was fictional. Feedback should continue to be

limited to positives.

• Option Two: Interviews. Ask students to choose a partner to interview – someone they don’t

already know well. The assignment is to write a short “sketch” that will show the rest of the

class something distinctive about each person. Perhaps the class can generate possible

interview questions together. Sketches should be finished and typed up for the next day, so



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everyone will get a copy. This exercise helps people get to know each other, and the

resulting publication helps the class start to feel like a community. It also helps the teacher

evaluate students’ writing skill levels. Feedback should continue to be limited to positives.

• Students fill out “Work Group Preferences” form (included in the Additional Materials

section).

Day Three:

• Introduce students to freewriting, following the instructions in the Methods section on

Individual Writing (process method).

• Introduce peer response, beginning with a demonstration of successful and unsuccessful

feedback sessions. Assign peer response groups. Follow the instructions in the Methods

section on Small-Group Work (peer response).

Days Four through Eighteen:

Follow the weekly schedule provided at the beginning of this section. Select daily

writing exercises from those supplied in the unit (below), supplementing as needed from the

Teacher’s Idea Well (in Additional Materials). Follow your instinct as to what to offer each day.

Allow students to write on some other topic if they need to (i.e. if they have a burning idea they

need to work on).

• Create a class Idea Well: Everyone writes down a topic for writing and puts it in a bag or

basket that remains accessible throughout the term. Individual students may choose a topicfrom the basket if they feel stuck; or the whole class can freewrite simultaneously on a topic

pulled from the basket. Make time once a week or so for students to come up with topics.

• When their first assignment is due, ask students to write about what kind of feedback they

want on their work. What are their expectations of the respondents (teacher, group, class)?

Some reading response assignments:

• Read the story “Girl” by Jamaica Kincaid. This is a story about a mother and daughter

discussing practical and impractical things, and about lessons. Discussion: What values are

implied in this story? What are their lives like? What do you think they think of men?

Writing exercise: What lessons did/does your mother teach you (or your father)?

• Read the story “The Things They Carried” by Tim O'Brien. This is a story about the daily

lives of soldiers in the Vietnam war. Discussion: How is meaning conveyed in this story

through lingo and through objects? Writing exercises: Make a list of things you



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carry...maybe this list becomes a poem or story? Next, consider the quote: “Men killed, and

died, because they were embarrassed not to.” What do you do because you are embarrassed

not to?

Days 19 and 20:

• Whole-class sharing opportunity

• Student report on self, group, and class

• Teacher’s written narrative report to each student

Unit Two: Short Story

Goals to focus on:

1. Students will know basic literary terms and concepts.

4. Students will be able to write an effective short story.

Continue to work on goals from the previous unit.

Mini-lesson topics:

• Instruction in peer response/small group work – further discussion.

• The short story: What is it? What elements does it have? What makes a story a good story?

• Focus: Don’t describe every little thing the characters do from the time they get up in the

morning until they go to bed at night. Be selective.

• Showing is better than telling. As Mark Twain once said, “Don’t say the old lady screamed.Bring her on and let her scream.”

• Tone: how word choice affects the emotional resonance of the writing.

• Fiction know-how: narration, description, dialogue, genre, plot, setting, characterization,

point of view, flashbacks and foreshadowing, leads and conclusions. Not all at once!

Writing activities:

1. Setting: Time, place, and mood are expressed through descriptions of customs, manners,

clothing, scenery, weather, geography, buildings, methods of transportation – what else?

Descriptive writing practice: The teacher (or someone) brings in an image of some kind and

everyone spends ten minutes or so writing a thorough description of the setting. Perhaps this

could be done in groups, where each group has a different image. Maybe they are images of

famous places or monuments, and others have to guess what they are from the writing?



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2. Biography by group: Ask the class to brainstorm answers to several questions about each of

two characters. Write the suggestions on the board. Then have everyone write a

biographical sketch or story using some or all of the answers. This exercise is is fun and

tends to evoke comical material. Questions: Character’s name? Place of residence? Pet?

Favorite item of clothing? Strangest item of clothing? Favorite food? Hates? Collects?

3. Plot: Introduce the classic plot outline – a situation is established, a conflict arises, a turning

point occurs (climax), and then resolution. Use a fairy tale as an example. Then ask students

to think of a favorite book (or movie) and to consider its plot, then write a plot summary,

referencing the classic plot outline. If it does not conform exactly (which is likely), where

are the divergences? Writing exercise: Write a short fairy tale that follows the classic plot

line (onceuponatime, youngest son/daughter seeks fortune, overcomes obstacles, triumphs,

marries prince/princess, lives happilyeverafter).

4. Legends: Is there a legend in your family? In your neighborhood? A legend about a person

or a place, or some story that should be a legend? Odd place names are a good way to start

inventing legends. Ask students to write down a legend they have heard or a new one they

make up. Get the basics down first – details can be added later.

5. Characterization: Read a passage from Charles Dickens that introduces a character (Uriah

Heep, perhaps) for inspiration. Ask student to write a character study of someone they know.

Be sure to do plenty of “showing” and not too much “telling.” Aspects of characterizationinclude: appearance, speech and behavior, thoughts and feelings, beliefs and rituals, and

others’ perceptions of the character.

6. Write a monologue as spoken by an historical or fictional person (not someone invented by

the writer, though).

7. Writing dialogue together: Get everyone into pairs and number them One and Two. Ask

each number one to invent a character for whom they will speak, and then write on a piece of

loose paper a provocative comment in the voice of that character. For example, I might

decide I am a cranky old woman who says, ‘Argh, you’ve done it again!’ When all the

number ones have written their opening statements, have them pass their papers on to the

number twos, without telling who the character is. Now the number twos decide who the

character is who will answer the first comment (also without telling their partners). For

example, my partner might decide his character is a teenaged kid who is tired of being



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scolded. He might write, ‘Fine, then! I’m outta here!’ Without each person’s knowing who

the other’s character is, allow the pairs to continue to write dialogue for 15 minutes. Then

have each pair read aloud, each writer speaking their own character’s lines. Discussion will

ensue, no doubt!

8. Dialogue: Using yourself and two or more of your friends as the models, write a

fictionalized conversation among three or more characters. Try to capture the style of your

and your friends’ real-life speech: slang, rhythms, incomplete sentences, interruptions, etc.

9. Arguing amongst yourself: You’ve heard of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the

other. Re-characterize them as you please, such that each takes one side of a debate you’re

having (or have had) with yourself. Choose any question or topic that is (or was) difficult to

figure out. Write a dialogue between the two characters discussing/arguing the question.

Use quotation marks, indenting, two colors, or two sides of the page if you like.

10. Points of view: Introduce the four major points of view (first person, third person objective,

third person limited, third person omniscient). Then ask students to rewrite a familiar fairy

tale from a specific point of view (i.e., “Cinderella” in first person; “Jack and the Beanstalk”

from third person omniscient).

11. Overheard: Write down bits of conversation you hear in public places. Note details of

setting, what people look like, their gestures, etc. Try writing from these notes – in different

points of view, perhaps (e.g. pretend you’re one of the people you overheard and write infirst person).

12. Autobiography becomes fiction: Start with a short piece of writing you’ve done in your

journal, something from your life, something written in a relatively narrative way. Read it

over, then put it aside and rewrite it from memory – but this time, introduce into the narrative

some object that was not there in the first draft, and that was not there in your memory.

Make it completely imagined. Go on writing for a bit, and then introduce a character (again,

completely imagined) that wasn’t there, and give him or her a significant place in the

narrative. Alternately, rewrite with the original in front of you, but change “I” to “he” or

“she” and rename the character who was originally you. Then write another version that

introduces a new object, character, etc. This is a way to start writing fiction, using your real

life experiences as a jumping-off point.

Last two days of unit:



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• Student evaluation of teacher


Unit Three: Poetry

Goals to focus on:

5. Students will be able to write an effective poem.

6. Students will demonstrate voice in their writing.

Continue to work on goals from the previous two units.

Mini-lesson topics:

• Poetry: What is it? What makes a poem a poem? What makes a poem a good poem?

• Poetry know-how: alliteration, assonance, consonance, rhyme, meter, line breaks (end-stop

and enjambment), stanza, imagery, metaphor, specific > abstract. Interspersed throughout

the unit, not all at once!

• Poetry forms: history of formal poetry in English; couplet, haiku, limerick, sonnet, villanelle,

sestina, ballad, free verse, rap, etc.

• Poetry in performance: reading aloud; poetry slams; oral tradition.

Writing activities:1. Group “connection” game poems: First we do a round of “connection” – a game where we

go around in a circle, each person saying the first word that comes into their mind when they

hear the word of the person before them (i.e. next to them). A sort of person-to-person

stream of consciousness. Go around the room once, then write down all the words on the

board. Then ask everyone to take ten minutes or so to write a poem using as many words

from the list as they please. When everyone is finished writing, invite sharing. The purposes

of this exercise are a) to see how different the poems are (and thus the poetic potential of

each person), even though the poets are all using the same “vocabulary”; and b) to see how

poems can come out of language itself, just as much as they can come out of the poet’s desire

to “say something”.



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2. Cliché poems: Ask the students to write the worst, most clichéd poem they can write. Share

all the poems aloud, if possible. This is the teacher’s chance to discuss poetry dos and

don’ts. Recommendations: No love poems, no formal poems, and no rhyming (for now).

3. The “I am from” poem: Start by making several lists. First, items in your home which help

make you unique. Next, items right outside your home. Next, items and landmarks in the

community you live in. Next, elements of your heritage (surnames, ancestral nations, etc.).

Next, family sayings and phrases your relatives habitually use. Next, foods people eat at

your family gatherings. Then – write a poem that uses some of these things, and the phrase

“I am from” (as often as you like).

4. Write a nonsense poem. This is a good way to hear the sounds of the language.

5. Found poems: Ask students to choose a passage from something they’ve read recently (a

paragraph or two from a story, newspaper article, etc.). Make it into a poem by deleting

words and playing with line breaks.

6. Parallel poems: Use the “found” poem or another fresh chunk of prose. Underline some of

the words and phrases – your choice. Write a new poem using those words and phrases

(adding other words if necessary).

7. Grab a book of poetry, open it, and take down a line. Write from that line.

8. Make a list of things that are important to you, or to a character you’re writing about. Can

the list become a poem?9. Found images: Find/choose an image (perhaps an old photo) and contemplate it for a good

few minutes. Then list 25 specific details about the image. Put the list aside for a few days if

you like. Then write a poem/story from ideas in the list and the image.

10. Write a riddle poem. Do this by describing an ordinary object in great sensory detail: how it

smells, tastes, sounds, feels, and looks. Don’t be too obvious!

11. Favorite words: Make a list of thirty to fifty of your favorite words. They can be favorites

for any reason – meaning, sound, look, whatever. Put the list aside for a day or two. Then

choose a handful of the words and write a poem with them.

12. Borrowed first lines: Ask everyone to write a few different sample opening lines; then swap

and have everyone write from the line(s) they receive.

13. Write the dreams of all the people who are sleeping in one house or tenement apartment

building.



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14. Ode to an everyday object: Write an ode to something in your bedroom or immediate home

environment, something familiar. Students choose one of the poetic forms.

Last two days of unit:




Unit Four: Revision and Publication

Goals to focus on:

7. Students will demonstrate fluency in their writing.

8. Students will feel more confident about their writing.

9. Students will be less fearful of writing.

10. Students will be more interested in reading.

Continue to work on goals from the previous three units.

Mini-lesson topics:

• Instruction in editing, including editing marks.

• Instruction in preparing work for publication (format, font, printing, layout).

• About the publishing world: literary magazines, chapbooks, and self-publishing.

• Your prospects as a future professional writer: slim (but that doesn’t mean there’s no point!);importance of writing skill in any/all professional and personal contexts (communication,

advocacy in commerce, politics, relationships).

Writing activities:

• More reading, writing, and peer response group work, of course. Writing exercises may be

given or suggested by the teacher, or may be entirely generated by the writers themselves.

However, more freedom of choice should be available during this unit.

• Selection of at least three pieces (one from each unit) to use for portfolio/publication.

• Lots of revision, in groups and on their own.

• Editing.

Last three days of unit:





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• Student evaluation of teacher

• Teacher’s narrative report to each student

Last day of class:

• Publication and celebration! Ask the students how they would like to celebrate their

achievements. Suggestions: stage a reading or poetry slam at lunchtime for the school

community; have a potluck party; go on a field trip to a local arts café; invite a local poet or

rap artist to perform for and talk with the class; bring art materials with which students can

make a handwritten presentation copy of one of their poems; or hold a special whole-class

sharing session.

G. Additional Materials

1. Teacher’s Idea Well

2. To the students – about this course (handout)

3. Work group preference form

4. Student report of own progress, peer response group, and class (after each unit)

5. Student evaluation of teacher (after second unit and at end of term)

6. Guidelines for responding to published work (handout)

7.

Guidelines for responding to peer work – the basics (handout for use in small groups)8. Guidelines for responding to peer work – further discussion (handout for use in small groups)

9. Guidelines for teacher response to student work

10. Record of weekly student progress



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Teacher’s Idea Well

The exercises and assignments that follow are drawn from numerous reliable sources –

writers, teachers, workshop leaders. I have written from many of them myself. I invite you to

add your own! These can be used as set exercises for the whole class, or offered to individual

students as needed, or can be adapted for the class’s Idea Well.

• Description from memory: Freewrite a description of a place that is very familiar to you

(bedroom, workplace, etc.). Try to see it super-clearly in your mind’s eye. When you write,

try to convey the emotional resonance the place (or the objects in it) has for you.

• Choose a color. Take a fifteen-minute walk and notice everything that is that color. Come

back to your notebook and write for fifteen minutes.

• Write about food, something that is very solid and real, write about a meal you love, the

foods you love the most. Be specific…

• Think of a childhood memory that relates in some way to language or words. List out some

details, then freewrite the memory.

• Your name: What do you like and dislike about your name? How does it feel to be called by

it? How does it feel to have been named by your parents?

• Haunting your childhood: Draw out the floor plan of the first house you can remember livingin. Then write your way through the house, describing the rooms, niches, events that took

place. What were your secret hiding places? What objects or mementos do you recall? Do

you remember particular seasons in that location? When you’re done, read it over and star a

couple of especially memorable bits. Write again about those.

• Neighborhood: Brainstorm a list of places in your childhood neighborhood (or one you

remember well). Write down the events that took place in those places, the perhaps eccentric

characters there? Then pick one of the events and write further about it.

• Relatives: Think of an event or situation one of your family members (not you) has

experienced. The situation could be one you did or did not witness yourself; or it could be

imaginary. “Use details and images to help your reader see the setting and the actions of the

incident.” Try writing in the voice of a relative.



27

• Animals: Write about a pet you have or had; perhaps a memorable event involving the pet.

Or write about an animal you’ve encountered (recently?) – wild or not. Or research an

animal (what it eats, when it mates, care of young, where it sleeps and plays), then put aside

your notes and write from memory.

• Animal point of view: Choose an animal and write a journal entry from that animal’s point

of view, without actually mentioning what kind of animal is “writing”. What might this

animal comment on that humans might not notice? How might this animal understand

everyday objects or events of the human world? When sharing these pieces, ask

listeners/readers to guess what kind of animal is “speaking.”

• Instructions: Give detailed instructions, using senses and imagery, about how to… wade a

creek, listen to the wind in the trees, behave on a first date, fail a test, eat an ice cream, or

something else fairly ordinary. Or write instructions for an emotion (e.g. how to be angry).

Or give advice about something specific.

• Paper bag masks: Make a paper bag mask that reflects your mood, shows a role of yours,

reveals something about who you are or who you’d like to be, or something else. Then write.

• Write to your mirror; or in the voice of your mirror, or about a part of your body (try to avoid

being negative).

• Renaming/nicknaming: Brainstorm a list of stuff about yourself – likes and dislikes, habits,

qualities, etc. Write about them and see if you can give yourself a new name or nickname(along the lines of Native American naming practices).

• Meta: Write about writing; or about something in the class (people, the room, whatever).

Write about being in the community of writers and readers.

• Write “off of” a painting: become a character in it, have a conversation with a character in it,

or with the artist.

• Bring an object into class and have everyone freewrite about it; then share.

• Bring a lot of small objects (a couple dozen) into class and have each person choose one to

write about. “Every object here is full of story – what it was before it was made into this

object, and where it has been, and the stories of all the people who have used it.”

• Ask yourself, What matters? Right now, this minute, what matters?

• Taste: “Offer bite-sized pieces of something to eat and see what this food for thought

stimulates.” Try lemon slices, pieces of fruit or vegetables or bread.



28

• Dream image: “Begin with an image from a dream, and write freely, letting words and

associations come as they will, without imposing any necessity of order.”

• Write in your most personal voice, directly to someone.

• Taboo: Start by making a list of topics or things that you consider taboos [in the context of

school, or writing at school]. Ask the group to call out ones they’re willing to share, so that

everyone can extend their lists. Then each person picks one thing from their list – the thing

that will be hardest for them to write about – and writes about it.

• Begin with a familiar piece of writing – say, Mary had a Little Lamb – and then substitute

into it as many words as you can. Maybe start with three words substituted, then share?

Then do more? This could be a demonstration of the power of revision…

• Write in great detail about something you do often (shaving, washing dishes, mowing a lawn,

cooking a favorite dish).

• List three things you want to keep and three things you want to lose. Then write.



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To the Students: About the Creative Writing Course

This course is designed to foster the growth of students’ writing. Students will write

every day, either in class or at home (sometimes both). Most of the writing will be “freewriting”

– a method of drafting with which you will soon become familiar. Freewriting can be in any

form the writer chooses – prose, poetry, whatever.

There will be assignments to revise this material, often into specific forms (poem, story).

In later drafts, revision will be aided by peer and teacher feedback. Peer response groups (four

students) will work together throughout the semester.

If a student comes in to class with an idea already in mind, they may ask permission to do

that instead of the given assignment. The teacher may or may not allow it, depending on what

the current assignment is and what the student proposes.

Students must keep a separate notebook for this class. You may store it in the

classroom if you are concerned about losing the notebook, or about privacy at home.

Along with daily writing, there will be reading assignments at least once a week, often

twice a week. We will work with our peer response groups about twice a week. Students will be

asked to turn in work twice a week – one notebook check, and one new draft; later in the term,

two or more revisions will be accepted instead of new work.

Course grades will be based on work completed, attendance, and participation.

Weekly schedule:

Monday: Writing

- Assign reading homework for Tuesday

Tuesday: Reading, writing

- Notebook check

Wednesday: Peer response, writing if time permits

- Assign writing homework for Thursday

Thursday: Writing, typing

- Draft (or final copy) due to teacher

Friday: Peer response OR reading, writing

- Hand back drafts (or final copies) to students



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Creative Writing: Work Group Preferences

The information you provide below will help me put together the work groups for this class.

Work groups will consist of three or four students who will collaborate on brainstorming,

revision, and other activities throughout the term. We’ll discuss the nitty-gritty of small group

work together soon.

Please list three to five people in this class with whom you believe you would work well (not

necessarily your best friends – this will be a work group, after all):

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Please list up to three people with whom you feel you would not be able to work (if necessary):

1.

2.

3.

There is no guarantee that you will not be placed with these people. Your input is valued,

however.

Thank you!

Name:



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Creative Writing: Student Report on Self, Group, and Class

(ask students to complete this at the end of each unit)

Many of these questions are directly related to the stated course goals. This report is designed

to be central in the assessment process.

Please choose two to four most-helpful questions from each section. Respond as fully and

honestly as you can to the questions you choose. You’ll have plenty of time to write. Use a

separate piece of paper to reply (don’t forget to put your name on it!). You’re welcome to

discuss any other issues or concerns you have, too. I hope that thinking through these questions

will help you have a clearer sense of your own progress, as well as providing me with valuable

feedback about how the groups are working, how the class as a whole is working, and how

helpful I am as your teacher.

I. Self:

• How is the writing going for you at this point? Are you finding that writing comes easily to

you, is fun, important, interesting? Are you frustrated, bored, anxious when writing?

• Does your writing “sound” like you? Or like it’s yours?

• Write about one or two of your actual pieces of writing: how and why they work, or don’twork, or both.

• What are you most proud of in your writing thus far?

• What do you need to work on in your writing?

• Are you finding yourself more interested in reading poetry and short stories than you were

before? Less? The same?

• Evaluate your attendance, class participation, and work turn-in.

II. Group:

• How are your group members getting along with each other at this point? Describe the

atmosphere of the group.

• Which tasks are your group good at doing together?



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• What does your group need to work on? This can be a social issue or a writing/feedback

issue – or both.

• Which group role (writer/leader, monitor, responder) are you best at? Which role do you

need improvement in doing?

• What kinds of feedback have you found most useful, as a writer? Give an example if that

helps you explain.

• If you are feeling frustrated or intimidated by a group member, please write about that. Be

assured that your comments will remain confidential, and that I will not intervene unless you

ask me to do so.

III. Class:

• Are directions and assignments generally clear? Please explain.

• Do you understand how your work is being assessed?

• Do you understand how your overall course grade will be determined?

• Pacing: Are we moving too quickly? Too slowly? Would you like to go back to any topic,

or go into more depth with any topic?

• Balance of set assignments and open ones: Do you feel you have enough structure? Enough

freedom?

• Describe your sense of the tone/atmosphere of the class.

• Do you understand what is expected of you in terms of behavior?

• On the whole, is the class interesting? boring? Which specific tasks/activities are

interesting, and which are boring?



33

Creative Writing: Student Evaluation of Teacher

(ask students to complete after the second unit, and at the end of the term)

Teacher:

Course: Creative Writing(1 = Disagree … 5 = Agree)

1 2 3 4 5

Demonstrates respect and care for students

Facilitates a classroom climate in which all students respect themselves

and others

Holds appropriate, high expectations of students

Listens to students with full attention

Is aware of students’ needs and interests and adjusts instructionaccordingly

Communicates students’ progress to students

Offers a helpful, supportive balance of encouragement and suggestions

for improvement

Communicates clearly through speaking and writing

Acts with fairness and moral integrity

Shows and encourages enthusiasm for learning

Has a sound grasp of the subject material

What is the teacher’s best quality as a teacher?

Please give the teacher one piece of advice or suggestion for improvement:

Is there anything else you’d like to tell the teacher?

Name (optional):



34

Creative Writing: Guidelines for Responding to Published Work

Option 1: Begin by holding the book/story in your mind and finding one concrete image, either

from the book/story or from your reaction to it. Write down that image and then freewrite for ten

minutes or so from there.

Option 2: Read the piece through once as you normally would. Then read it again, paying

attention to what happens in your head as you read. What questions come up while you’re

reading? What memories or associations occurred? What seems most important in the writing?

Why? What seems least important? Why? You can write as you read the piece the second time,

or you can start writing immediately after you finish reading.

More options:

• Think through an interpretation: write your thoughts about what the piece means, recording

the unfolding of your ideas (writing and thinking happen together!).

• Explore thoughts and feelings that come up during and after reading

• Speculate about other events in the character’s/author’s life.

• Write another poem or story that “jumps off” from the one you just read.



35

Creative Writing: Guidelines for Peer Response

The Basics

The writer begins by reading his or her piece aloud. The other group members should

listen closely, taking notes if they find that helpful. Don’t read over the writer’s shoulder!

To begin the discussion, the writer asks another person in the group “tells it back” or

paraphrases. If it’s a story, summarize the plot; if it’s a poem or something else without a clear

plot line, describe the speaker/narrator, and says what the piece is about. Paraphrasing is an

important way to ensure that readers understand the content of the piece. Hearing their piece

paraphrased also helps the writer can also get a sense of how clearly their intended meaning is

coming through. The writer may choose to then clarify their intent verbally, and should also take

notes on which sections of the piece were confusing to the readers. The writer should consider

revising these sections in the next draft.

The next step is to discuss the writing’s strengths. Look for specific examples in the

text. Which passages are most effective? Why? Do not revert to evaluative statements such as

“I like it” – don’t judge it, even positively.

Then, point out the passages you found confusing or unclear, the parts you didn’t

understand or which made you stumble or resist. Don’t forget: Be compassionate!

Finally, the writer has the opportunity to ask any questions he or she might have for thereaders/responders.

There is no need to point out errors in spelling, grammar, and punctuation. These will be

addressed during the final editing phase.



36

Creative Writing: Guidelines for Peer Response

Further Discussion

Reader-based questions:

• How would you instinctively respond if you weren’t trying to give feedback? Would you tell

the writer about something similar in your own experience? Ask what was going on in the

writer’s mind as he/she wrote? Ask for clarification about something? Comment on the

meaning?

• Summarize what you feel the writer is trying to say but not quite actually saying. Where

does the writing seem to want to go?

• Tell how someone different from you might react (your mother, a friend).

• Make up an image for the relationship between the writer and the reader. Is the writer

whispering in your ear? Declaiming from a stage?

• What is the writer’s tone? Find some words or metaphors to describe it.

Criterion-based questions:

• Is there too much abstraction or generalization? Too much telling and not enough showing?

Not enough details?

• Is there too little abstraction and too much clutter of detail? Too little standing back forperspective? Too little forest per tree?

• Is there a point of view or is the writing just disembodied statements from nowhere? Is there

a sense of a speaker or voice?

• Is the whole thing unified? Do the parts hang together and relate and add up?

• Is there a beginning? Does it start off in a way that allows the reader to get a sense of what’s

going on?

• Is there a middle? Some solidity, sufficiency, matter? Or does it turn around and say good-

bye almost as soon as it is finished saying hello?

• Is there an ending? Does it give you a sense of closure or completion?

• If there are paragraphs, are they the right length? Not too much, not too little in each?

• Is the language alive, human, interesting?



37

Guidelines for Teacher Response to Student Work

Teacher assessment mechanisms include oral conferences with students, written feedback

to students on specific pieces of writing, observation and record-keeping, and written narrative

reports to students at the end of each unit. The first two types of assessment are discussed in the

Methods section. Here you will find a form called “Record of Weekly Student Progress” (one

page per student per week) and directions for writing the end-of-unit narrative reports.

Narrative response fulfills the aspect of assessment that is “communication with students

about their progress.” However, assessment also functions as a mode of recordkeeping, and as a

tool to inform adjustments in teaching methods and content. A formative assessment expresses

the question: What am I, the teacher, looking for that will let me know that the students are

ready for what’s next? Writing is complicated, and responding to writing is also complicated:

both are rife with subjectivity and emotion. Narrative response (written or oral) to student

writing is the best way to respect each writer’s effort, integrity and uniqueness.

Preparing to write the narrative report: Read each student’s response to the “Student

Report on Self, Group, and Class” questionnaire, the four completed “Records of Weekly

Student Progress,” and the learning objectives emphasized in the current unit.

Suggestions for writing the narrative report: Address the student directly, perhaps using

letter format. Discuss the student’s progress toward each learning objective in separate

paragraphs (rephrase the language of the learning objectives so the student will understand you!).As you address each objective, start by noting the student’s strengths – the positive points. Refer

to specific pieces of writing and quote specific passages. For each objective, suggest something

the student can focus on improving over the next four weeks (the next unit). If the student has

persistent technical errors, mention one that they can work on correcting.

As noted in the Learning Activities, each unit emphasizes particular learning objectives.

However, each unit is also intended to provide opportunities for continued progress toward the

goals of previous units. The following reference shows emphasized goals plus previous goals in

parentheses.

Unit One learning objectives: 2, 3a, 3b, 3c

Unit Two learning objectives: 1, 4 (2, 3a, 3b, 3c)

Unit Three learning objectives: 5, 6, (2, 3a, 3b, 3c, 1, 4)

Unit Four learning objectives: 7, 8, 9, 10 (2, 3a, 3b, 3c, 1, 4, 5, 6)



38

Record of Weekly Student Progress

Yes/No Notes

Notebook

check:

All assignments written down and begun?

Homework

turned in:

First draft? Revision (and number)? Editing draft?

Peer

responsegroup:

Monitor? Writer? Responder?

Individual

conference:

Student: Week:



39

H. References and Resources

Resources for use with the curriculum:

Eggers, D. (Ed.). (2002-2005). The Best American nonrequired reading. (Series). Boston:

Houghton Mifflin Company.

McClatchy, J.D. (Ed.) (2003). The Vintage book of contemporary American poetry. Second

edition. New York: Vintage Books.

Reed, I. (Ed.). (2003). From totems to hip-hop: A multicultural anthology of poetry across the

Americas, 1900-2002. New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press.

Shapard, R., and Thomas, J. (Eds.). (1986). Sudden fiction: American short-short stories.

Layton, Utah: Gibbs Smith, Publisher.

Suggested selections:

Baxter, Charles. “The Cliff.”

Boyle, T. Coraghessan. “The Hit Man.”

Carlson, Ron. “Reading the Paper.”

Cheever, John. “Reunion.”

Edson, Russell. “Dinner Time.”

Fox, Robert. “A Fable.”

Greenberg, Barbara. “Important Things.”Hemingway, Ernest. “A Very Short Story.”

Hughes, Langston. “Thank You, Ma’am.”

Jackson, Gordon. “Billy’s Girl.”

Milenski, Paul. “Tickits.”

Oates, Joyce Carol. “Happy.”

Ordan, David. “Any Minute Mom Should Come Blasting Through the Door.”

Paley, Grace. “Mother.”

Schutzman, Steven. “The Bank Robbery.”

Tallent, Elizabeth. “No One’s a Mystery.”

Whalen, Tom. “The Visitation.”

McGarvey, Craig. “Sense of Wonder, Sense of Awe.”



40

Shapard, R., and Thomas, J. (Eds.). (1989). Sudden fiction international: 60 short-short stories.

New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

Shapard, R., and Thomas, J. (Eds.). (1996). Sudden fiction (continued): 60 new short-short

stories. New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

Williford, L., and Martone, M. (Eds.). (1999). The Scribner anthology of contemporary short

fiction: Fifty North American stories since 1970. New York: Scribner Paperback Fiction.

Suggested selections:

Barthelme, Donald. “The School.”

Baxter, Charles. “Gryphon.”

Carver, Raymond. “Errand.”

Diaz, Junot. “Fiesta 1980.”

Dybek, Stuart. “Pet Milk.”

Ford, Richard. “Rock Springs.”

Gautreaux, Tim. “Same Place, Same Things.”

Hansen, Ron. “Nebraska.”

Kaplan, David Michael. “Doe Season.”

Kincaid, Jamaica. “Girl.”

Oates, Joyce Carol. “Ghost Girls.”

O’Brien, Tim. “The Things They Carried.”

References used in developing this curriculum:

Atwell, N. (1987). In the middle: Writing, reading, and learning with adolescents. Portsmouth,

New Hampshire: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

Ballator, N., Farnum, M., & Kaplan, B. (1999). NAEP 1996 Trends in writing: Fluency and

writing conventions. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Education, Office of

Educational Research and Improvement, National Center for Education Statistics.

Retrieved on April 28, 2006 from the National Center for Education Statistics website at

http://nces.ed.gov/nationsreportcard//pubs/main1996/1999456.asp

Brooks, D. L. Personal correspondence.

Brown, B., and Glass, M. (1991). Important words: A book for poets and writers. Portsmouth,




41

Cook, K. (2002). Fiction Writing: Characterization [and] Plot [and] Setting: ArtsEdge

Curricula, Lessons and Activities. ERIC document number 475410.

Musselman, F. Personal correspondence.

Schneider, P. (2003). Writing alone and with others. Oxford University Press.

Spear, K. (1988). Sharing writing: Peer response groups in English classes. Portsmouth, New

Hampshire: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

Steele, N. Personal correspondence.

Ueland, B. (1987). If you want to write: A book about art, independence and spirit. (2nd Ed.).

St. Paul, Minnesota: Graywolf Press.

Williams, J.D. (2003). Preparing to teach writing: Research, theory, and practice. (3rd Ed.)

Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers.



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Chapter 2

Developing the Creative Writing Curriculum: A Process Paper

Contents

A. About the Project

B. Whence the Project

C. Decisions

D. Praxis

E. Reflections



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A. About the Project

Creative Writing… is a one-semester (sixteen-week) curriculum for high school students

(9-12) with little to no prior experience writing poetry and/or short fiction. The curriculum

includes learning objectives, but is not based on any state educational standards. If implemented

in a public high school, it would probably be offered as an elective course (due to its being

creative writing, and its eschewing of grades).

The course consists of four units, each four weeks in length. The first unit is an

introduction to the “process writing” method, and to peer response/small group work. The

second unit is on short story writing; the third unit is on poetry writing; and the fourth and last

unit includes more writing, while focusing on revising and finalizing existing work and

compiling portfolios. Ideally, the portfolios would be printed and bound together for publication

and distribution.

B. Whence the Project

I have been a creative writer, on and off, since I was a child. One of the reasons I

decided to become an English teacher is that I believe deeply in the power of Story (reading

them and writing them) to enhance human lives. In the fall of 2005, as part of my teacher

training program, I student-taught three creative writing classes at a small, arts-focused, charterhigh school. In the future, I plan to teach English in either a public or a private high school. I

hope to teach creative writing classes, if possible; or to at least include some creative writing in

my “regular” courses, if that’s all there’s room for.

Within the larger field of education, curriculum has always held my keenest interest.

Reflecting on my own undergraduate education, I have often wondered why certain ways of

thinking, certain ways of teaching and learning, and certain areas of knowledge have been

elevated to the status of the “right ways.” Why are the academic disciplines so strictly separate?

Why is religion taught as anthropology, excising any experiential “data”? Why are creative

endeavors so severely limited in every academic department save Studio Art? Why does it have

to be so hard for individuals to connect their studies with their “real lives”?

In studying curriculum theory and thinking about how I’d do it if I were in charge, I have

come to recognize two great gulfs. To bridge the gulf between school and life, we need



44

relevance. To bridge the gulf between areas of thought, we need interdisciplinarity. Neither

solution can be achieved easily; but if we view relevance and interdisciplinarity as modes of

thought, or as methods or approaches, we can begin to build those bridges.

One very good place to start is in the teaching of writing, since writing is necessary in

every discipline (including “real life”), and writing skills acquired in one course can be carried

along into all the others. Creative writing courses, in particular, develop writing (and reading

and listening) skills which remain valuable throughout a student’s career and into the rest of life.

I discuss these skills in further depth in my curriculum project, and some of the other benefits of

creative writing in my Preface.

All of this cogitation is all very well and good. It has been extremely useful to me to

think through my experiences as a student and my emerging beliefs as a teacher. However, my

experiences as a teacher (which have been limited thus far) complicate matters. Teaching

writing to actual teenagers is no slice of pumpkin pie. So what happens when ideals come in

contact with the real world? Adjustment happens!

My student teaching placement was at Studio Academy of Fine Arts High School in

Rochester, Minnesota. The people in this small city are as (un)diverse as in any Minnesota city –

mostly white, mostly middle class. Studio Academy is a small, arts-focused charter high school

in its sixth year. Its 120 students are mostly in the upper grades since they tend to transfer in

midway through high school. Demographically, the student body parallels Rochester: mostlylower-middle-class white people. The kids tend to be marginal, in terms of subculture: most are

artsy, many might be considered “delinquents,” and there is also a small population of “out”

queer students. The school’s mission is to incorporate the arts into all the academic disciplines,

as well as to offer a lot of art classes in several areas. Ten service learning hours per year are

also part of the graduation requirement. Community spirit is constantly demonstrated at school,

too: the students are affectionate and respectful of each other and of the faculty, and the faculty

treat the students that way as well.

Three credits of English are required for graduation, where a one-semester course is equal

to one-half credit (so, three years of English). All freshmen are required to take English 9, a

standard literature and composition course with plenty of grammar and vocabulary mixed in.

Most students take Composition & Speech in their sophomore year. Several other literature

courses are offered for upperclassmen and qualifying tenth-graders, including Modern Poetry,



45

Shakespeare, American Literature, and British Literature (the last two are usually AP). At least

one creative writing course is offered every semester, too, each worth a half-credit (designated

either as Art as English) just like any other English course. Most Studio Academy students do

choose to take a creative writing course during their time at the school.

In addition to two literature courses, I taught one section of Creative Writing (an

introductory course) and two sections of Advanced Writing (also “creative”). Creative Writing,

designed to introduce students to a wide variety of forms and genres, was a prerequisite for

Advanced Writing, which offered students the opportunity to work on their own projects for the

entire semester (form and content were their choice, though deadlines were set). Neither class

was grade-limited, so my students were a mix of all four grades. Class size averaged around 15

students. At my request, we arranged the long rectangular classroom tables in an approximate U

shape, with the opening at the front of the room. This allowed everyone to face one another,

while also enabling the teacher to walk around the inside of the U, observing and assisting.

My mentor teacher was Mr. M., probably the most popular teacher in the school, and an

accomplished playwright, too. Having taught both courses before, he was fairly clear on their

curricula, while remaining somewhat flexible regarding the length of units and the specifics of

assignments. His methods were fairly set, however. Students usually submitted two drafts for

each assignment; the first worth ten points (deductions for insufficient length, if applicable, and

for lack of adherence to directions), and the second worth fifteen points (deductions for incorrectspelling and usage, as well as for lack of “quality” – I quietly ignored this last guideline when

grading on my own). Late work – whether a day or a month late – was worth half the original

point value. Mr. M.’s willingness to accept assignments weeks after they were given, resulted in

difficulties tracking students’ progress: often they would do work entirely out of sequence, thus

not benefiting from any scaffolding we might have built in. Sharing and discussion of student

work was always done as a class, rather than in small groups, and with a fair amount of direction

(questioning, guiding focus, etc.) from the teacher.

Of course, there were numerous differences in how he conducted the Creative Writing

(CW) class and the Advanced Writing (AW) classes. In CW, student work was rarely shared or

discussed, and when it was, it was chosen and read aloud by Mr. M., who also anonymized it.

Such readings usually took place after students had turned in their final drafts, and so were not

intended to assist writers in revising their work. In AW, however, the class read and discussed



46

every piece of writing produced, whether draft or final copy. Each student had a recurring

weekly deadline (i.e., about five students had to turn work in each Tuesday, another five each

Wednesday, etc.). Mr. M. or I would make copies of the work, staple them into packets, and

hand them out for discussion the next day. It was extremely difficult to keep up that aggressive

discussion schedule.

In CW, the students were given a series of assignments focusing on various forms and

genres (the “I am from” poem, a sci-fi story, haiku, etc.). They also did several exercises,

usually in class (making metaphors, developing characters, etc.). In AW, students chose their

own forms, genres, style and content; they were, however, asked to create something of a

syllabus for themselves at the beginning of the semester, indicating what form they would be

working in (poetry or prose) and what theme they would be exploring. Almost no one held to

their choice of theme as the term unfolded, though.

Neither course offered much instruction in writing technique/process (how do you get

your ideas on paper? how do you get ideas at all?) or in giving and receiving feedback. Before

the term started, Mr. M. told me he wanted to provide clearer guidelines on discussion, which

had proved difficult in the past. Knowing that I had been reading Peter Elbow’s Writing Without

Teachers, he asked me to create a handout that would help students respond better to one

another’s writing. I did so, and we went over it with the students at some length, but we rarely

had (made) time to return to it, and in the end it seemed they had not retained much.A number of problems emerged during the semester. In my journal excerpts given

below, watch for evidence of these: my inability to modify the structure and procedures of the

classes due to the need to conform to Mr. M.’s established ways; lack of revision (and of

opportunities to revise); written feedback limited to the teacher’s; the structure’s forcing of

teachers to edit and evaluate while responding; poor assignment turn-in rate; students’ lack of

confidence and ineptitude in giving feedback; noisiness and lack of focus as a result of large-

group response sessions, repeated daily, without enough to keep individuals busy; and serious

flaws in the actual writing, especially the poetry (dependence on clichés, rhyme, abstractions,

broad topics and themes, resistance to the axiomatic “show, don’t tell”).

Journal excerpts (undated, but in chronological order):

I feel uncertain about Mr. M.’s approach to teaching creative writing. He does

have plenty of good assignments, but I’m not sure that he’s covering the basics - what is a



47

poem? what is a short story? what makes a good poem or short story? How about

techniques for writing? We’ll see.

I have two sections of Advanced Writing, a creative writing course in which the

students write what they please - there are quantity requirements - and classes consist

almost entirely of group critiquing. The second hour class is smaller, and (perhaps as a

result) has a more cohesive, mutually respectful atmosphere. Third hour’s class is larger,

and there has been a lot of whispering and chattering during class. Mr. M. has reminded

me a couple of times that it is important that I reprove them quickly - if I let them get

away with talking, they’ll keep doing it. So I try - but it doesn’t endear me to them.

There seems to be a fine balance to walk between keeping the class focused, and

maintaining friendly relations between teacher and students.

We had an opportunity to do that a few days later, when it became clear that we

were behind in our critiquing schedule. Mr. M. and I asked the class for ideas about how

to catch up, while ensuring that everyone’s work got its fair share of class time. We had

experimented one day with breaking into small groups, which I thought would allow

more in-depth critiquing - but the students said not enough people were willing or able to

talk enough to make it work. I have been trying to improve everyone’s critiquing

abilities (and confidence) in several ways - reminding them to attend to the comments

others make which are helpful to writers, reviewing our critiquing guidelines (Mr. M. andI made a handout and discussed it at the beginning of the semester), and occasionally

asking specific people (the quieter ones) for their views - sometimes these quieter

students need more pointed questions - a sort of scaffolding for critiquing - for example,

what lines in this poem create a visual image in your head? Anyway, when we were

behind schedule, the students decided they would prefer to put a time limit on the

critiquing of each writer’s work. Not my favorite idea, since it requires me to cut short

conversations which might be going in interesting directions - but it works pretty well.

Of more concern in Advanced Writing was what happened with A.’s critique the

other day. This student writes barely-disguised personal poems and journal entries, very

angsty. She has a penchant for simple rhyme schemes and abstract language, which often

make her poems sound like nihilist nursery rhymes. There’s a lot that is strong in her

writing, too - real insight into her own emotions and experiences; a sophisticated



48

vocabulary; an ability to write a lot, every week (no writer’s block for her!); occasionally,

a vivid metaphor or image. Thus far, she has been turning in work that she calls fiction -

the diary entries of a teenage girl (“she’s not me, but she’s kind of like me” - but really it

is her). One day the class turned rather nasty while discussing her latest installment. One

student said “this character is stupid and whiny and I don’t like her”... which made my

heart jump into my throat because of course really “this character” is A. herself. She

didn’t look very happy - and during critique, writers are supposed to just listen, not

defend their work - so I interjected and wrapped it up, with a brief reminder to the class

as a whole to try to remember to be nice to each other.

[The next day] I addressed the issue with the whole class, too - not referring to

A.’s critique, but talking generally - about the need for everyone to be aware that people

are really putting themselves out there when their work is critiqued, and that we all need

to be respectful and compassionate when responding to each other’s work. I also talked

(individually and outside of class) with the two students who’d made the cruelest

comments, asking them to be particularly vigilant about being kinder during critiques.

Both seemed a little surprised - but neither was offended, I think. Result: things have

improved... the class is mellower on the whole, although I think conversation flows less

smoothly because they are feeling cautious about their words. Balance...

My efforts to help students succeed consist mainly of communicating to themabout their progress (or lack thereof) via my written comments on their work, brief

individual conferences during or after class (I try to make time regularly to do these

check-ins), and giving them missing-assignment reports once a week or so. Also, I try to

encourage and/or heckle students who are falling behind - it’s sometimes hard to decide

which approach to take, but so far I haven’t alienated anyone - though the results of the

encouragement/heckling are not, on the whole, spectacular.

Luckily, things have been getting better with Advanced Writing (3rd Hour) - that

cynical, angsty bunch - even though we’re still behind... but I did a couple of really good

things there... I noticed that a number of people weren’t turning stuff in and I asked why

and they said they couldn’t think of anything to write; then I asked if they wanted me to

give them an assignment, just on an individual basis, and several of them said yes, so I

did that. And then I thought, oh, why not have them give each other assignments? So I



49

took five minutes out of the class (both hours) and asked the students to make up an

assignment, put it on a little piece of paper, fold it up, and put it in this basket - so now

we have an “assignment basket” - so if people need an assignment they can just pick one

out of there. Although not everyone who’s taken advantage of the basket has been

pleased with what they found in there!

Basically, there are people who want it to be a therapy session; one girl outright

said that in her writing, that she is expecting it to be a counseling session and it’s not, and

it seems like some others have the same thing going on. I kind of talked about that in

second hour the other day...how none of us are really qualified to be therapists, and that’s

not really what the class is about, but in some ways just the act of writing, and having

people listening, can kind of serve that function. It seemed like that sunk in.

Reflecting on these experiences, I have devised a list of student writers’ essential needs.

Most of these needs were either not addressed, or were addressed but not fully met in my student

teaching classroom. The curriculum I developed for this thesis project takes each of these needs

into account and provides some means to meet them.

Student writers need: quiet time to write in class; practice in writing (use and awareness

of the writing process); small work groups; peer response skills; feedback from peers and

teachers during the writing process (integral to revision); exercises in techniques and forms;

emotional safety in the classroom (mutual compassion and no grades on creative work);flexibility in assignment form and content; ownership of their writing (permission and

encouragement to write with authenticity); invitations to provide feedback to the teacher about

the class and about their own progress; genre familiarity; and more reading opportunities (in-

class SSR, homework, and pleasure reading).

C. Decisions

Eventually the time came when I needed to decide what my master’s thesis project would

be. Goddard’s guidelines indicate that a culminating project should draw on a student’s

academic and experiential background, taking some idea to explore further. At some point in the

fall of 2005, I decided to develop a creative writing curriculum for high school students. The

idea arose from the intersection of: my own history of being a writer, my concern with art-



50

making, my interest in curriculum design, my desire to deepen my knowledge of writing

pedagogy (my pre-student teaching study of writing seemed insufficient), and my experience of

student teaching creative writing with an ineffective curriculum. With the help of my advisors, I

chose a project which is not too big, is personally and intellectually meaningful, and which might

be useful to me later in my teaching career.

During the week-long residency at the beginning of my thesis semester, several aspects of

the project became clear. One was that it (the thesis) would take the shape of a curriculum

development project, an integrated practical component, and a process paper describing it all

(this very document!). Another early decision, urged by my advisor, was to design the course as

an elective: that would mean devising the learning objectives myself rather than choosing from

among existing, semi-relevant state standards. My advisor also impressed upon me the

importance of making this an outcome-based, backward-designed curriculum. With his help, I

brainstormed a list of course goals which, rather to my surprise, have remained constant

throughout the project.

I returned to the list of course goals about a month later, hoping to get a sense of why I

had chosen them, what they meant, and what implications they had for the shape of my nascent

curriculum. Contemplating them, I realized that all of the course goals are “axiomatic” in that

they are self-justifying, important in and of themselves. My course goals tend to be connected

with less traditionally-educational goals: enhancing self-esteem, fostering personal growth,increasing engagement with learning, and developing social skills. However, most of the course

goals also function as precursors to other, more familiar educational aims: students becoming

“better writers,” being prepared for higher-level work (college), improving literacy, and

developing higher-order critical thinking skills. In the list below, the larger/related goals are

included in parentheses.

• Develop voice (self-esteem, personal growth, engagement with learning)

• Be less fearful of, and more confident about writing (self-esteem – especially academic,

better writers)

• Learn writing process (better writers, prepared for higher-level work, critical thinking skills)

• Fluency in expressive writing (personal growth, better writers)

• Workshop/peer response skills (social skills, critical thinking skills, better writers)

• Competency in writing poems, short stories (better writers, literacy)



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• Knowledge of basic poetic and literary terms and concepts (prepared for higher-level work,

better writers)

• Increased interest in reading, increased literacy via the reading/writing connection

(engagement with learning, literacy)

As I contemplated these goals, throwing them into the mix with all the other ideas and

concerns I brought to the project, I was feeling confused. I felt a strong need to get a sense of the

Big Picture. So I drew a picture – or rather, a diagram or “mind map” of the project, showing the

various conceptual pieces that go into the actual creative writing class. This was extremely

useful to me as I planned my reading and studying.

With the help of my map, I came up with the following list of “dimensions of the

theoretical context” of a creative writing class:

• Teacher-student relationship (including responding to student writing, etc.)

• Psychological and spiritual aspects of creative writing (including voice, growth, etc.)

• Writing techniques and processes: Expressive (including journal writing, freewriting); formal

(including poetry, short story, other prose); revision (including technical correctness,

portfolio collation)

• Creative writing pedagogy (including assignment choice and order, scaffolding, expectations,

etc.)

• Cooperative learning/peer response/small group work (including sharing work, givingfeedback)

• Reading-writing connection (including reading for inspiration, students choosing readings,

reading aloud)

• Literary terms and concepts: Elements of poetry (formal and free verse); elements of the

short story

These are more or less in the order in which I ended up studying them.

Around this time, I also wrote what is now Appendix C: Autobiographical Material. I

wrote this piece because I needed to figure out what I think and “where I’m coming from.” Also

I needed to do some writing myself. I pretty much freewrote it (in two sessions), and did just a

minute amount of revision. Having written it, I felt a lot clearer about my own beliefs about

writing, about how writing can be (and ought to be) taught, and about the complex nature of



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writing in school. The piece does seem to serve as an example of sorts, too, for what can happen

when a writer accesses the process!

My original inquiry question – the one I put down on my thesis proposal – was: How can

I find a way to balance, through thoughtful curriculum design, the goals of making meaningful,

well-crafted art, and also cultivating students’ self-development? Over the next couple of

months, I encountered many more questions. Different ones emerged as the “guiding questions”

during different phases of the curriculum development.

The questions I asked and tried to answer during the first half of the semester tended to

be about more interpersonal aspects of writing and teaching writing. My discussion of these

concerns I call “Authenticity and Safety.” Decisions about “Methods” follow. During the

second half of the term, the main idea emerged as “Structure and Freedom.” “Reading” rattled

around quite a bit, as did that monster “Assessment” (especially toward the end of the semester,

in spite of the injunction to practice backward design).

AUTHENTICITY AND SAFETY

Possible the most urgent of the course goals is that of developing “voice” in student

writers. It’s also a slippery goal – difficult to define, not to mention difficult to cultivate –

difficult to figure out how to cultivate. I began with a somewhat vague, intuitive understanding

of what “voice” means, allowing that to serve for the time being as I investigated a couple of other things.

I knew that in order to do good, interesting, authentic, voice-ful writing, students would

need a certain kind of classroom environment. Namely, they would need to feel connected with

their teacher and with their peers – they would need trust.

Berman’s (1994) and Salzman’s (2003) books both talk about how trust is developed in

classrooms, and how authentic writing flourishes there. In retrospect, I think I chose to read

these books because they were not squarely in my field of inquiry; I hoped to find a fresh

perspective on matters which, when they appear in educational books and journals, are often arid

with familiarity.

Jeffrey Berman’s Diaries to an English professor: Pain and growth in the classroom is

about his experiences teaching an undergraduate course on literature and psychoanalysis. As

part of the coursework, and in order to give students the opportunity to reflect and write in a



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more personal mode than is usual in academia, he asks the students to write a weekly diary.

They are invited but not required to write about their personal lives. Berman chooses a few of

the diary entries to read aloud to the class once a week, without disclosing the authors’ names.

There is no class discussion about the entries; however, Berman does respond in writing. He has

several “rules” that guide his responses: he never grades the diaries; he does his best not to

“psychoanalyze” them, trying instead to make only supportive comments; he “promises [his]

students that [he] would be as noninterpretive and nonjudgmental as possible”; and he “strives to

maintain proper boundaries, avoiding both overinvolvement and underinvolvement” (Berman, p.

1-2). On the whole, he tries to respond as a person rather than as a teacher or analyst.

These procedures invite authentic writing and provide a trustworthy environment in

which such writing can occur. Students are free to write what they please – whatever form they

choose, whatever content they choose. Their teacher is careful to respond in an engaged,

positive manner that protects students’ emotional safety. When the writing is shared, the writer’s

privacy is protected even while their voice is respectfully heard by an audience that feels

increasingly like a community.

Berman believes, as I do, that teachers have a responsibility to engage with their students

at close to the same level as the students are offering. As he puts it, “students appreciate

teachers…who can be both authority figures and human beings” (Berman, p. 31). It is important

that teachers be authentic in their responses (both written and oral) – this helps students feelconnected, validated, and safe. Of course, part of ensuring safe-feeling, significant connection

involves teachers’ responsibility to maintain appropriate boundaries.

Teachers need to be empathic. I subscribe to what Berman calls the “intersubjective

paradigm” of education: connection, mutuality, “realness” are its defining qualities. This model

of teaching is particularly appropriate for writing classes, which tend to be emotionally fraught.

Berman firmly believes – and I agree – that “all learning involves both affective and cognitive

elements, and there is no contradiction… between scholarly and personal teaching” (p. 226).

One of the ways Berman cross-checks his effectiveness as an empathic teacher is by

asking students to evaluate him several times throughout the semester. The feedback must go

both ways.

True notebooks is Mark Salzman’s account of two years of his teaching writing to “high-

risk offenders” (homicides) at the Central Juvenile Detention Facility in Los Angeles. At first,



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he was afraid he’d be afraid of the boys, but he was not, and they soon developed a good class

and a close bond. His students wrote mostly on personal topics – their thoughts and feelings

about a wide variety of stuff. Form was their choice – poems and stories (fiction) did happen,

but mostly they wrote what Salzman calls “essays” – expressive pieces around some idea or

event. For example, “father” or “regret.” Salzman would only suggest a topic if the student did

not already have an idea.

The combination of student choice in writing and their teacher’s accepting, encouraging

attitude allowed these unlikely writers to develop their voices as well as gaining insight into their

very difficult life situations.

To investigate “voice” a bit further, I read Peter Elbow’s 1995 essay “Voice as a

lightning rod for dangerous thinking.” This article is, rhetorically speaking, an attempt to bridge

the arenas of academia and interpersonal psychology on the subject of the writer/

writing/“voice”. Elbow tries to rescue the word and the idea of “voice” from relegation to the

unscholarly bin of romanticism/expressivism/individualism. He mounts a defense of the idea by

carefully defining voice as “utterances” that have individuality as well as social function (the

usual function of speaking and writing being social communication).

His four “dangerous thoughts” are: that voice empowers selves who have been mistreated

by society or other people (p. 5-7); that composition studies’ focus on the reader’s perspective is

disingenuous and damaging to young writers (p. 7-10); that voice is the expression of “the most‘bodily’ dimension of language” (p. 12); and that everyone has access to voice, no matter how

new they are to writing (p. 15-16).

A teacher can encourage the development of students’ voices (thus helping to empower

their most real selves) by cherishing and nourishing students’ individuality. Supportive focus on

the writer’s perspective and genuine acknowledgement of each writer’s access to voice are

important ways for writing teachers to invite the expression of students’ individuality.

Of course, the teacher is not the only other person in the room with these student writers.

There are also a lot of other student writers. If we hope to create a community of trust, in which

individual voice can flourish, those writers need to learn to be readers, listeners, and responders,

too.

To get a sense of how a good writing workshop might look, and how a teacher might

facilitate such a thing, I read Elbow’s Writing with power: Techniques for mastering the writing



55

process (1981) and Pat Schneider’s Writing alone and with others (2003). Both books offer

oodles of advice and stories about doing writing, giving feedback, and leading workshops. They

are geared toward writing workshops outside of academic settings, and comprised of adults;

however, both authors also address the specific concerns of teachers and students (if briefly).

Schneider, who must have learned at Elbow’s knee, has a great big-picture perspective,

while also offering plenty of details, examples, and ideas. She gives good advice about the less-

tangible aspects of leading a writing group – how to be flexible (so as to foster, not constrain

creativity), how to be encouraging, and how to ensure safety and confidentiality. She has a

couple of very clear “rules” that I’ve adopted, notably that of treating all student work as fiction

unless the writer says otherwise. This seems to be a good middle ground between total

disclosure and total anonymity, allowing writers to feel their privacy is respected while also

demanding a certain level of trust (which leads to greater intimacy in the classroom community).

While I read, enjoyed, and found useful Elbow’s chapters on poetry writing and on voice,

I was mainly drawn to his section on feedback. He suggests many questions for use in feedback

groups, dividing them into “criterion-based” and “reader-based” types. The former are questions

that help writers hone their technique; the latter offer insights into the writing’s emotional and

intellectual effects on its audience.

It is clear at this point that writers need feedback – encouragement, to help them access

that voice, but also the thoughts and feelings of a variety of readers, to help them shape theirwriting into an effective, interesting communication. Karen Spear’s dense and thorough Sharing

writing: Peer response groups in English classes (1988) proved extremely useful to me in my

quest to figure out how to help student writers respond helpfully to one another.

Sharing writing combines original research on group processes in the writing classroom,

with a pulling-together of a lot of existing research in this field and several others (composition,

psychology). It is designed to inform and instruct writing teachers of secondary and

undergraduate students. The author begins by outlining the benefits of “peer response groups”

(a.k.a. small groups or work groups, consisting of about three to five students) and why they’re

perfect for writing classes. She notes that writing and collaboration are natural partners, because

of the social nature of language (and thus writing, too). Indeed, writing is almost always a

collaborative effort in professional settings (Spear, p. 14). Writing is a process of thought: ideas

develop during writing and during conversation (Spear, p. 100ff).



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However, work groups only work if the group members have the requisite social skills as

well as the writing skills (or whatever is being worked on). In writing classrooms, then, social

interaction skills must be explicitly taught simultaneously with the writing skills specified by the

course title and curriculum. As Spear describes it, students need to learn group “maintenance

functions” (how to notice and adjust the social communication) as well as the “task functions”

(the writing) (p. 25ff). The key to effective small group work is: lots of metacognition.

Groups in which the members like each other seem to work the best (Spear, p. 63). Also,

it is crucial that the writer be the discussion leader during feedback sessions on his/her own work

(Spear, p. 61). This helps ensure harmony in the group, as the writer invites feedback and the

respondees thus feel it is acceptable to give it.

Spear emphasizes repeatedly that feedback is not the same thing as criticism or

evaluation! It is essential that teachers get students to understand and believe and practice this

approach in peer response groups. The feeling of unease that arises when students believe they

are being criticized, or that they must criticize their peers, is the killer fog for response groups.

However, “challenging” feedback is necessary in the process. Spear recommends that students

start with “supporting” feedback, then move on to the challenging kind, and finally to the

editorial kind (p. 132).

The two most appropriate tasks for peer response groups are a) brainstorming/

inventing/ideating, and b) revising/revisioning. Spear advises caution in asking groups to doediting work for each other, because students already tend to focus unduly on technical,

superficial errors in peer work. Williams (2003) notes that teachers have this tendency, too.

Listening skills are essential in giving feedback. Spear lists them out as follows (in order

of difficulty): attending, reflecting, drawing out, and connecting. Attending means believing that

what your peers say is important, not just what the teacher says. Reflecting involves

paraphrasing back to the writer/speaker what you understand them to mean. Drawing out means

asking questions of the writer/speaker, getting him/her to explain, explore, and elaborate on

his/her ideas. Connecting, finally, is the necessary step of summarizing and pulling together all

the various ideas that have come up during a group work session (Spear, p. 123-127).

But how does all this writing happen in the first place? How do students generate the

stuff that gets responded to? Spear, Schneider, and Elbow all espouse the process writing

approach (and Berman and Salzman, too, though they don’t discuss it explicitly). I, too, started



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out intending to promote the writing process; and by the time I’d read these five, that intention

was confirmed.

METHODS

By the second month of my work, I had decided on the essential methods I would use in

the curriculum. My student teaching experience suggested to me that student writers would

benefit from giving and receiving peer response in the context of small groups. Elbow’s and

Schneider’s work, and Williams’s reports of research data (see below) all support this method;

Spear’s book, especially, explained how to put the method into practice.

My curriculum indicates that peer response groups should work together at least twice a

week. (Daily seemed too much, but once a week might not be enough to cultivate and maintain

the group’s sense of intimacy.) In the Additional Materials section are guidelines to help

students learn how to give and receive helpful feedback. The Methods section includes

explanations and suggestions for the teacher about how peer response works and how to teach

students the skills they need to do it effectively.

The Methods section also includes a discussion of the “process writing writing process,”

as I like to call it. This is the number one most recommended way to write (and to teach writing,

and to learn writing). Its essence is: writing to figure out what you really want to write, and then

rewriting until you’ve written what you wanted to write.I implement the process writing approach in my curriculum by a) suggesting that teachers

explain it and teach it directly to students, b) incorporating daily time for writing and frequent

writing activities (usually in class), and c) supporting revision through peer response groups.

The essence of the writing process is the dynamic duo: Freewriting and Revision. My

curriculum entails doing a lot of freewriting, and then turning some of the generated material into

poetry or stories through revision. Earlier in the term, students are not asked to shape their

freewrites into specific forms; however, the second and third units focus on story-writing and

poetry-writing, respectively.

I believe a creative writing class should be at least partly about learning to work within

established forms. I chose poetry and the short story because these are central to literature as we

know it, are doable for young writers in a limited period of time, and because they are fairly

broad and flexible. The curriculum expresses an attempt to balance the goals of learning to write



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(in general) and learning to write in a particular form. Allowing students plenty of opportunity

to freewrite should help them with the first goal; assigning specific topics or specific forms

teaches them some of the conventions of those forms as well as helping them learn to revise their

work.

STRUCTURE AND FREEDOM

Once I felt this certainty about the methods I would employ in the creative writing

course, a new frame of reference emerged in my thinking. I wanted to find a way to build into

the curriculum a balance of structure and freedom. By this I mean two things: first, that student

writers should be provided enough freedom to find and develop their individual writing voices,

while also having some structure upon which to build their skills. Second, the curriculum itself

needs to be structured in such a way that teachers have room to adapt it to their teaching style

and to their students’ needs and interests, while still working toward the stated course

goals/learning objectives.

The work of Richard Herrmann and Diane Tabor (1974) was especially helpful in

pointing to ways one might establish and maintain the second type of balance (between goal-

orientation and flexible spontaneity). Their courses in “expressive writing” (which entailed a lot

of freedom for students as regards form and content of writing) were successful because the

teachers established strong pillars of regularity, ritual and routine.

Following their example, my curriculum includes a fairly firm weekly schedule that

includes time devoted to writing, reading, and small group response work. Whole-class

discussion and individual student-teacher conferencing are to be incorporated as needed, also

fairly regularly. Mini-lessons (probably daily) provide plenty of opportunity for the teacher to

directly instruct students in procedures, techniques, and writing mechanics without monopolizing

class time. The weekly schedule also includes deadlines (a notebook check once a week, and a

draft to turn in once a week), which are effective motivators for students (and everyone else in

the world).

Flexibility is essential. My hope is that the curriculum allows for flexibility without

leaving teachers in the lurch by being too vague. As Nancie Atwell (1987) writes: “Our worst

enemy is orthodoxy. When we teach to someone else’s – or even our own – rules about what we

and students can and cannot do, we surrender authority and abrogate our responsibilities as

professionals. Worse, we stop learning” (p. 254).



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Atwell’s famous In the middle: Writing, reading, and learning with adolescents now

holds an honored place on my bookshelf, too. Her middle school writing workshops demonstrate

a finely-tuned balance of structure and freedom, rigor and flexibility.

Atwell started out being quite “teacher-focused” – she tried to provide scaffolding for her

students while indulging her obsession with her store of writing assignments. However, when

students do not have ownership of their writing, when they are told to write in a specific form on

a specific topic, the writing they produce is inauthentic (lacking voice and interest) and of poor

quality. When Atwell allowed more freedom, her students’ work improved dramatically (p. 3).

She lists what writers need in order to write well: Regular chunks of time to think and

write; their own topics, ideas, and concerns; feedback from peers and teachers during the

composing process; opportunities to learn writing mechanics in context; role models who write;

and a wide variety of reading material from which to choose (Atwell p. 17-18). Atwell meets all

of these needs with her students in her writing workshop. Its essentials are: students choose what

they’ll write; there are no blanket deadlines; everyone gets feedback from peers and from the

teacher; there are plenty of opportunities for sharing in class and, through publication, with the

entire school community.

In support of the writing workshop model, Atwell cites a study by Don Graves which

concludes that “writing is a highly idiosyncratic process that varies from day to day” (p. 76) –

and there’s no getting around that! She also reports her students’ outstanding scores on statestandardized tests (98th percentile among Maine eighth-graders).

Crucial to Atwell’s writing workshop model is careful organization and record-keeping.

She provides each student with a folder in which to keep their writing, and in which she staples

three forms they fill in over time: Titles and dates of finished pieces; Ideas for writing; and

Things I can do as a writer (this is a list of technical issues the student needs to work on). Atwell

herself keeps a “conference journal” in which she records her observations of individual students

(p. 73).

Finally, a regular feature of Atwell’s workshops is the mini-lesson, a five- to ten-minute

lecture/discussion which kicks off each class period. This is the teacher’s opportunity to instruct

students in the craft of writing, to go over procedures, clarify technical issues, and so forth (p.

77ff).



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Returning to my own work… Providing a balance of structure and freedom for the

students (the first of the two balances I mentioned earlier) centers around the form their writing

takes. My curriculum allows room for students to make their own forms sometimes, and to learn

to work within existing forms at other times. All their writing, however, starts from a place of

freedom, because all the assignments begin in freewriting.While many of the exercises I offer in the curriculum do specify topics, I recommend that

teachers allow students the option to write about something else (on a case-by-case basis). When

the exercise focuses on learning to work with a specific form, however, students do not have the

freedom to opt out. Nonetheless, they can still choose the contents with which the form is filled.

I made this decision after reading a number of books and articles with varying views on

the matter. While Atwell, Herrmann and Tabor (and, obliquely, Elbow and Schneider) espouse

students’ right to write about whatever they please, others believe that the best way to learn to

write is to follow a carefully-designed, often topic-specific sequence of exercises.

Notable among the latter are Brown and Glass, authors of Important words: A book for

poets and writers (1991). This book is something of a curriculum guide for an introductory

poetry writing class. Two separate forewords address teacher and students, describing how the

authors envision their using the book. From there, the chapters proceed along a sequence of

topics, beginning with memories of childhood and then broadening the scope out to more

complex subjective and external subject matter. Each chapter also includes discussions of

various techniques and elements of poetry, such as enjambment, imagery, meter, and (near the

end) rhyme.

I was impressed with Brown’s and Glass’s skillful interlacing of assignments, examples,

and technical instruction. Their explanations of the nature, importance, and use of poetic

techniques were particularly clear and insightful – a great help to the beginning writing teacher.

Also, their book is unusual in that the authors give examples of both professional and student

work as models for the writing exercises, while making little distinction between the two.

However, the book has some striking and debatable features. The curriculum theypropose is all about models and exercises. The authors take the stance that they know all the

steps students must go through in order to achieve poetic proficiency. They withhold

information until it’s “the right time” for students to know about it – notably, they have a

stringent no-rhyming rule which they do not explain until near the end of the book. The way this

omniscient-guide position is enacted in the sequenced assignments also implies that the authors



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know exactly how human development occurs, or how it should occur: the sequence reflects a

controlled progression of person-meets-world exercises. I am skeptical about the

appropriateness of their one-size-fits-all approach, no matter how flexible the one size may be.

The philosophy underlying this program of instruction is reasonable, however. Brown

and Glass believe that anyone can write well; and that learning to write, like any learning,

happens through “imitation and emulation” (p. viii). They hope that their curriculum will “take

you from writing intuitively and instinctively to writing with a greater understanding of the

techniques available to you” (Brown & Glass, p. ix-x). My reservations notwithstanding, the

“modeling” or learning-by-imitation approach really made me think about my own beliefs about

how people learn to write. I suspect that different people learn differently. The approach I

ended up choosing is one that provides models and forms sometimes, but which does not

constrain students to their use all the time, especially when it comes to subject matter.

Deborah Womelsduff’s 2005 article, aptly titled “The paradox of structure and freedom:

An experiment in writing poetry,” directly addressed the balance I am seeking. In a creative

writing unit within a fairly traditional language arts curriculum, she experimented by asking her

students to write a poem modeled quite directly on a Dinka (traditional African) poem she

brought in. She was surprised at the fine quality of the work they produced, concluding that

“maybe structure promotes freedom” after all (Womelsduff, p. 27). I am reassured by her

assertion that teachers and curriculum designers “can provide structures that support and directstudent writing without being prescriptive or controlling” (Womelsduff, p. 27).

READING

All writers need to read, and read a lot. Research consistently finds that good writers are

avid readers, and vice versa. The classes I student-taught did not include much reading;

occasionally the CW class would follow along while Mr. M. read a story or poem aloud, but

there was no assigned reading or written responses to readings. I knew before I started working

on my own curriculum that I wanted to incorporate reading – of published/professional poetry

and fiction – into my writing class. Two questions arose: what should we read; and why exactly

do we need to read in order to write well?

The second question is really about the idea of “models.” Some writers and teachers

(Brown and Glass, Womelsduff) strongly advocate using pieces of professional writing as



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models for student writers. Writing with or from a model involves imitating some element(s) of

the original – topic, rhetorical approach, or some aspect of form such as rhyme scheme, allegory,

stanzas, or meter. The purpose of writing from a model is to limit the number and complexity of

creative choices the student must make while writing. The assumption is that the more choices

there are, the more complex the writing task becomes, and the more likely it is that the student

will become overwhelmed and either give up or produce shoddy work.

Student writing modeled on professional writing is often quite accomplished. Seeing

their own success might be helpful for students who need a self-confidence boost in order to

continue with writing. I wonder, however, if such an approach might not limit students’ future

writing, by cultivating a limited set of skills and preferences.

The more distasteful problem with using models is that it veers too close to plagiarism.

Of course, no one is suggesting that students borrow wholesale from the pros; but originality,

although a sliding spectrum, is sacred to artists and writers. A significant part of the glory of

writing is that it enables individual expression. A writer’s writing (through which speaks their

voice) is unique. Better, perhaps, to feed that original voice and produce middling writing than

to sacrifice uniqueness to the godling of quality (whatever that is).

Nonetheless, there is a connection between reading and writing that can not – and should

not – be severed. There are many reasons for writers to read: for inspiration, for lexical

delectation, for research, and for fun. Student writers in particular benefit from reading becauseit beefs up their verbal intelligence – vocabulary, metaphor, analysis, and all those other

nameable and unnamable tools of the word-rich mind. The more writers read and enjoy reading,

the more their writing will please themselves and their readers.

Atwell and Spear both laud the value of connecting reading and writing. Along with their

writing workshop, Atwell’s students participate in a reading workshop involving plenty of

sustained silent reading, student choice in reading material, and written correspondence (“literary

letters”) between each student and their teacher. Spear recommends that students do freewrites

on assigned reading – immediately after the actually reading, if possible. These focused yet open

exercises allow students to experience how reading is a “dialectic” process in which readers and

texts come together to make meaning.

My curriculum adapts their recommendations to include reading-response exercises and

freewrites, with room for the occasional SSR session. However, I felt it would complicate the



63

curriculum unduly to try to incorporate student-chosen texts (other than a suggestion that the

teacher might invite one student to bring in a favorite text each week or so). I chose another

method to accommodate student interests: assigning contemporary poetry and stories.

I have long believed that students would better enjoy and succeed in language arts

courses if they were provided with reading material more relevant to their own lives. Many

teachers promote the young adult genre as a cure-all for teenage literary apathy; but oh, what

schlock! I would suggest that bored readers turn to more recently-written literature instead.

Creative writing students in particular need to read contemporary writing. It is important

that developing writers be exposed to work done in familiar language, about familiar topics and

situations, taking place in recognizable worlds (i.e. the present day, or the very recent day).

Tennyson and Eliot are not good models for today’s poets, although they are always worth

reading in and of themselves, and as inspiration. O’Connor and Balzac wrote wonderful stuff,

but their work reflects long-gone eras and vernaculars. Contemporary work also shows

developing writers what styles, themes, and genres appeal to today’s audiences – a secondary

consideration.

The resource list for my curriculum includes several recommended anthologies of

contemporary poetry, short stories, and works in other forms (see Best American Non-required

Reading series). When searching for likely “textbook” candidates, I selected Scribner’s

anthology of short stories (2003) as a starting point. I read the entire thing and starred about athird of the stories as suitable for/accessible to high school students. But I think the “sudden

fiction” anthologies would be more useful to creative writers. These stories, widely varying in

subject matter and style, are short enough to read (and re-read) in a single class period. Their

shortness enables the reader to hold an entire story in the mind at once, turning it around and

thinking about its techniques, structure, tone, and effect. Such practice would be useful for

writers learning to conceptualize their own stories.

I also feel strongly that all readers, including student writers, would do well to expose

themselves to the literatures of many cultures. I was surprised at how difficult it was to find

good anthologies that made a point of expanding their definition of quality and tradition to

include multicultural writers. From this perspective, I am not really satisfied with any of the

contemporary short-story anthologies I found.



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It seems that the best way to include enough non-white male writing is to supplement my

curriculum’s resource list with additional anthologies specifically devoted to multicultural

writers. I did eventually find one that might work for prose: Hear my voice: A multicultural

anthology of literature from the United States (1993). However, I did not purchase it (too

expensive) and I could not find it at any of my local libraries.

I did, however, find a very good anthology of multicultural American poetry: From

totems to hip-hop, edited by Ishmael Reed (2003). Reed is quite opinionated about how idiotic

and damaging is the canonical approach to anthologizing; and I quite agree with him. The

anthology includes writings by people of all the major ethnic groups (including whites), men and

women, straight and gay, politically left, right, and radical; it also includes student work (!),

without overtly identifying it as such.

My original motivation to look for and buy From totems to hip-hop was my

disappointment in the Vintage anthology’s selection. I recognized three nonwhite poets (out of

about a hundred) in this anthology published in 2003: a second edition, claiming to represent the

major poetic movements of the last fifty years. Worse was this dismissal from the editor: “Of the

claims made that new literary movements – black, feminist, gay – have emerged, it would be

better to say that new audiences [not new writers?!] have developed; weaker poets play to them,

stronger poets (I have included several in this book) attend to their art and work to complicate

the issues” (McClatchy, p. xxx). I was so revolted I almost didn’t read the stories – but of coursethe stories aren’t McClatchy’s, and are wonderful.

ASSESSMENT

The “backward design” method of curriculum development recommended by Goddard,

and which I tentatively profess to espouse, dictates that the developer should first set goals, then

create assessment tools which can measure students’ achievement in relation to those goals, and

finally devise or adopt teaching methods and activities which will enable students to succeed by

those assessments’ terms. I will confess that I did not strictly follow this formula. I started out

with sketchy ideas of goals, but I ran into serious problems as soon as I began to think about how

to “measure” student writing in relation to those goals.

As a reference, here is the short version of my list of learning objectives:

• Develop voice



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• Be less fearful of, and more confident about writing

• Learn writing process

• Fluency in expressive writing

• Workshop/peer response skills

• Competency in writing poems, short stories

• Knowledge of basic poetic and literary terms and concepts

• Increased interest in reading, increased literacy via the reading/writing connection.

I realized that some of the goals (knowledge of terms) would be easy to assess, while

others seemed impossible (voice?!). My advisor and I had briefly discussed this problem at the

residency. He observed that even a concept like “voice” can be shown to have observable

components – namely, idiosyncratic use of imagery, syntax, style, and the like. But how could

one presume to measure the degree of individuality apparent in a piece of writing? “Well,

Johnny, this story sounds like it was written by a mere shadow of your self – a 65% grey

shadow, to be precise.” No. I decided to put off the difficult task of inventing effective, non-

Orwellian assessments until later – until I had done some reading, gotten a sense of how other

teachers do it, and let it brew for a while in the back of my mind.

Writing is always difficult to assess, and creative writing even more so. Even the most

explicitly-stated qualitative criteria (such as “exhibits a smooth style”) elude quantifiability. If

assessment is about asking “how good is this writing?” the assessor can not escape answeringthat question subjectively. What does “good” mean, anyway?

One can get away from this quandary somewhat by eschewing the letter grade scale,

which relies exclusively on the evaluation of the teacher. An alternative is to use rubrics

developed collaboratively with students. Probably there would be different rubrics for different

writing assignments, each one delineating the specific qualities desirable to the task at hand. But

even a rubric system rests the heavy weight of assessment on whimsical criteria. I was not sure I

wanted to take this route, even if I could figure out how to include rubrics which would not

actually be created until the curriculum is implemented.

By the time I reached the midpoint of my project, I found I had made some decisions

about how assessment would work. First, I would present the course as ungraded – pass/fail –

thus enabling a separation of assessment (formative feedback) and evaluation (summative



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feedback, or grading). The only factors affecting the pass/fail part would be attendance and

assignment completion.

That done, I was free to design assessments that would, hopefully, really help the

students write “better.” I distributed the responsibility of judgment by including self-evaluation

(extensive) and peer evaluation (oblique) along with teacher assessment. I would prefer that

these be equally weighted, but am not sure that I succeeded in making them so. The “Student

Report on Self, Group, and Class” questionnaire (see Curriculum – Additional Materials) dates

from this period in my assessment development. It is to be completed by each student at the end

of each of the four units, thus providing a) helpful information for teachers in guiding and

modifying instruction, b) partial documentation of each student’s progress toward the course

goals, and c) an opportunity for students to reflect on their own writing, the effectiveness of their

peer response group, and the workings of the class as a whole.

The questionnaire does not directly assess specific pieces of writing, however. The

rubric question still loomed. Around this time I read Wyngaard and Gehrke’s 1996 article,

“Responding to audience: Using rubrics to teach and assess writing,” which recounts the tale of

their co-teaching a ninth-grade class on memoir. Their focus was on writers’ audience-

awareness as a means to improving writing. I admired their well-crafted rubrics and appreciated

their discussion of the “peer evaluation workshops” they did with their freshmen. Theirs seemed

to be very effective formative assessment strategies.It is clear that rubrics are better than letter grades, to be sure. But they are not good

enough. My queasiness came into focus when I read Alfie Kohn’s recent English Journal article

“The trouble with rubrics” (2006). Kohn begins by acknowledging the source of my own

unease: rubrics’ dependency on “murky” adjectives. But even more problematic, he argues, is

that “teachers use rubrics to standardize the way they think about student assignments” and

student performance (Kohn, p. 13, my emphasis). Tidy teacher-thinking deemphasizes the

individuality of the students they are thinking about.

Kohn goes on to suggest that rubrics have almost the same effects on student thinking as

does traditional letter-grading: If I do x, y, and z, I’ll probably get an A. But because rubrics so

closely specify what teachers want to see (even if the rubrics involve student input), students

have a “recipe” for success, and are therefore unlikely to do any more than that, or to take risks

in their writing. Kohn cites Maja Wilson, who argues that the use of rubrics leads to student



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work “stripped of the complexity that breathes life into good writing” (p. 14). She believes that

each piece of writing should be evaluated by the criteria it itself implies. That does sound like a

good idea, thought I’m not sure how exactly it might be done.

What it all comes down to, Kohn writes, is a reassessment of the purposes of assessment.

Are we assessing in order to compare students with each other? In order to create an extrinsic

motivator for them? Or are we “offering feedback that will help them become more adept at, and

excited about, what they’re doing”? (Kohn, p. 14) Of course, the last option is what we’d really

like to be doing.

I believe that there is no real need to measure the quality of a student’s writing. Thus

there is no need to tie oneself in knots trying to quantify quality (they are opposites!). Let’s just

accept that writing is complicated, and that responding to writing is also complicated; both are

rife with subjectivity and emotion. Narrative response (written or oral) to student writing is the

best way to respect the writer’s effort, integrity and uniqueness.

Narrative response fulfills the aspect of assessment that is “communication with students

about their progress.” However, assessment also functions as a mode of recordkeeping, and as a

tool to inform adjustments in teaching methods and content. A formative assessment expresses

the question: What am I, the teacher, looking for that will let me know that the students are

ready for what’s next? The Methods section of the curriculum offers suggestions for how to give

effective written and oral feedback on specific pieces of student writing, and the “TeacherResponse Guidelines” in the Additional Materials section explains how to write narrative

responses tied to each unit’s goals. The curriculum calls for teachers to write a individualized,

narrative progress report addressed to each student at the end of each of the four units.

V. Praxis

Please see also Appendix B: The “Road Test”: A Four-Session Writing Workshop Plan.

Report after the first session: According to the guidelines set forth by Goddard College,

there must be a practical component to the final product. Because I am not currently teaching in

a school, my options for such practical work were limited. My best bet seemed to be to conduct

some kind of independent writing workshop, probably for adults. I was concerned, however, that



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their more sophisticated cognition and (perhaps) writing skills might not provide me with an

accurate “test” of my ideas, which were of course developed with high school students in mind.

As it happened, several of my favorite resources (Elbow, Schneider) focused on and/or

grew out of extra-academic writing workshops for adults. I adapted and adopted many of their

ideas and guidelines for use with younger, less experienced writers. When it came time to do my

own workshop, I realized that it might work very well to teach adults as a test population: they

would be more serious about the work and more sophisticated in their metacognition, for a start.

I invited about twenty people to participate in the workshop, all of them personal friends

and acquaintances. Five people were willing to commit to coming to four sessions of one hour

each. They all showed up with notebooks and great willingness on the first evening, to my

extreme relief and delight! There were two men and three women (and myself): Rose, Vicky,

Kate, Jim, and Henry. (All names have been changed.) All five are in their late twenties to early

thirties and are white; three have college degrees and the other two have attended some college

courses.

Three of the five participants came prepared with at least an idea about what they wanted

to write. Vicky wanted to write a political fable based on a dream she’d had; Kate was working

on her artist’s statement; and Jim (who believes he may be dyslexic) was working on some fairly

technical text for his blog.

They all listened attentively as I told them about myself and my studies, outlined theworkshop, and explained the basics of the “process writing” method. We then did a ten-minute

freewrite, during which everyone was completely engaged in their work, hardly distracted at all

by neighboring conversations (except Rose, as it turned out).

After the freewrite, I invited them all to talk about what happened for them, what they

thought and how they felt about the process, and about what they actually wrote. Rose was

surprised by how negative her self-perception was, as expressed in her writing; later, reading

over it again, she observed that what she wrote was much more cohesive than she had thought.

Vicky decided not to work on her fable, but instead to write from one of the exercises on the

handout – the one that asks, “What matters, right now?” She, too, was surprised at her own

inclination to analyze and judge herself as she wrote; but said that whenever she felt inclined to

wander off into such analyses and judgments, she would instead return to the question. As a

result, she said she had some very intriguing insights. Kate wrote in a large, unlined sketchbook



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and, unlike the others, did not write a linear narrative. Her writing was in small chunks, lists,

brainstorms and the like, scattered around the page. However, she told us that she had a hard

time letting go and writing freely – her inclination was to always stop and look for the right

word, think about what she really wanted to say. I plan to suggest, next time, that she write

continuously and linearly, just to try it. Jim, who is always quiet, told us only that he did not find

he had much to say – that he was always wondering what he would write next as he finished a

sentence. I suspect that he and Kate are alike – that he is not really freewriting. Both are

visually oriented people, so perhaps writing without too much thinking is not so easy for them.

Henry, too, struggled with the urge to revise and edit as he wrote. He also reported that the

freewrite took his ideas in unexpected and potentially quite fruitful directions.

On the whole, I think all the participants found their interest piqued, did not feel

oppressively challenged, and seemed to enjoy the change of pace. I felt I gained quite a bit of

understanding from facilitating the session, and especially from the discussion. True to the

promise of the process, however, my clearest understandings seem to have arisen out of writing

this very report. An unexpected thought I’ve had is that the process approach might not be easy

for everyone – in particular for people who struggle with “verbal intelligence” (in the Multiple

Intelligences sense). Kate and Jim, both visual artists, report that their use of language, both

written and oral, tends to be highly conscious; they feel they are always straining to find the

words to express their thoughts.Report after the second session: I started by inviting the participants to air any questions

or comments that might have arisen for them since the previous week. We had a brief discussion

of the nature of process writing, during which I clarified the distinction between revising and

editing. I also noted that the brain uses separate areas for idea-generation and writing mechanics,

and those parts don’t work very well simultaneously; so it’s a good idea to try to do the editing

separately.

Then we went around the circle and everyone talked about 1) what they had planned to

do last time, 2) what they ended up doing, and 3) what they were thinking about doing this time.

We had not previously shared like this, and I think it was helpful for people to hear one another’s

thought processes a bit. Also, in keeping with my intent, I think it helped foster a sense of

community. As we finished the sharing, we were joined by a new member, David. He is, like

the others, white and in his mid- to late twenties. He does not have a college degree.



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Rose had no plan last time; instead, she started with one of the exercises I suggested,

which asks the writer to reflect on their name. However, she became distracted by a neighboring

conversation, and her freewrite wandered into other areas. For this session, she came prepared

with a semi-freewritten draft of a persuasive letter she needs to write. I suggested, for the

purposes of persuasion, that she take a separate sheet of paper and write down her motive for the

letter (what outcome does she hope to achieve through it), a little description of her audience

(background and beliefs), and to try to describe the tone she is aiming for.

At the previous session, Vicky wrote on the “what matters right now?” exercise and had

an idea during it, which she now wanted to explore further, tying in some recent related

experiences. Vicky seems to be most closely following my plan/expectations for the workshop.

I certainly don’t mind the others’ divergences, though!

Henry wrote at the previous session about handwriting and the aesthetic/ formatting

expectations people encounter in school and in the world. He did not wish to continue with this

topic, however. Instead, he wanted to write some kind of science fiction story about someone

encountering something totally foreign. I suggested time travel as a possible trope; I also

recommended that he try to keep the story short and focused – one character, one setting, one

event.

Kate was trying to write her artist’s statement, and at the first session found that her ideas

were very complex and her writing not in accordance with the conventional form for artists’statements. She was trying to decide whether to adhere to or discard that form. When I heard

her explain her writing as addressing the question “Why do I work?” I suggested she adopt that

as her guiding question – put it at the top of a new page and do a freewrite from there (and this

time, I urged her to try to do the freewrite in a linear stream-of-consciousness rather than

allowing herself to make lists; just to try it). I also suggested that she might first write an utterly

idiosyncratic artist’s statement, and then later use it as a source from which to craft a more

conventional version.

Jim, in the first session, had started with a very broad question – “Why is cob important?”

(Cob is a natural building material like adobe, but which is sculpted rather than formed into

bricks.) He wanted to do persuasive writing about all the various benefits of this natural building

technique. However, having come from a long day of working outdoors, he ended up writing a

much more personal piece about the physical, spiritual, existential experience of making and



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building with cob. I noted that the two approaches (persuasive and personal) implied two

different audiences; I suggested that he continue with the approach that really pulled him (the

personal).

Everyone started writing at this point. I conferred separately with several of them,

listening, questioning, and making the suggestions reported above. I also talked with the new

member, David, explaining the process approach and helping him find a starting point. He told

me he had been thinking about writing a sort of Thomas Paine-style newsletter; I suggested he do

a freewrite from the phrase “common sense.”

Since we had had so much discussion at the beginning of the session, we did just a very

brief check-in when people were finished writing. I sensed much enthusiasm – even an inkling

that there might be a desire to continue this workshop even after the requisite four sessions.

Thrilling!

Report after the third session: I accidentally articulated my “mission statement” during

discussion in Session Three. By accidentally, I mean that I didn’t really have it all clear in my

head before then. This is the true “overall goal” of the creative writing course: to provide a

balanced mixture of structure and freedom that allows and encourages student writers to develop

writing fluency and access their own writing voice.

I am reminded of Danielle LaFleur Brooks’s description of the role of a writing teacher

as one who holds a space in which students feel safe and supported as they become writers.There is a circling, embracing motion that one does with the arms while explaining this – as

though holding a large sheaf of grain, or a pregnant belly. The teacher accomplishes this

holding-of-a-space by establishing behavioral guidelines (ensuring safety without suppressing

expression), providing opportunities for growth (exercises, assignments, questions), maintaining

the daily rituals of the class (welcome, mini-lesson, writing, sharing, conferencing, good-bye),

and also through her own person – the aura of serious joy, authority, and care that moves around

the room with her.

Anyway, Session Three. We have diverged pretty significantly from my Road Test Plan

by this point – which goes to show that the more time-specific the curriculum is, the less likely it

will be to coincide with reality! It is absolutely necessary to build a flexible curriculum if I want

it to be one that might actually work.



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I began by telling the participants that, willy-nilly, we would be sharing our work at this

session. No one felt ready to do it – all wanted to work more on their own before getting

feedback for revision. I insisted, however, explaining that this would not be feedback geared

toward editing or even toward specific revision; that this feedback would be useful for the

writers to get a sense that an audience/reader exists, to hear their work aloud, and to hear some

general comments about what others found to be strong, moving, interesting, or confusing. Of

course, I also wanted to move them along, and move the Road Test along. And not least, I

wanted to test and strengthen the social bonds we were developing – to help people get through

their self-consciousness and nervousness about sharing their writing.

I then asked for a quick status update – what did everyone have with them, and if they’d

done work at home, what did they do? Rose had her letter, unrevised since last time. Kate had

intended to “rant on” but had not, so planned to share her mini-rant from last session. Jim had

not written anything more, and wasn’t in the mood to write today (luckily, writing wasn’t on the

agenda anyway!). David had just his random thoughts from last session, nothing new. Henry,

who longed to type, did type up his sci-fi story draft, expanding and revising along the way.

Vicky had continued to write (for forty minutes!) what she called her “litany” – a narrative of the

events of Easter weekend – but still it was not complete, chronologically speaking.

When we’d all reported in, I laid down the ground rules for peer response: 1) we treat all

work as fiction unless the writer tells us otherwise ahead of time; and 2) be compassionate. Ielaborated a little bit on these rules and explained a little more about what the feedback might be

like for writers and for listeners.

It took a long time to hear and respond to everyone’s work. I was hesitant to be more

controlling of the conversation, probably because the participants are my peers, and I don’t want

to piss them off. A couple of people had difficulty maintaining focus, but for the most part the

listeners/responders were rapt, involved, dedicated to their duty as collaborators. There were a

couple of comments that I felt were not in keeping with rule #2 (be nice) – oddly, those

comments were directed at Vicky, whose writing was clearly the strongest in the group (at least I

thought so). Perhaps people felt they were being overly gushy, and wanted to temper their

remarks with a little non-praise? Of course the problem with this was that Vicky’s feelings were

hurt. So I will remind them next time to watch what they say a bit more carefully.



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The conversation during and after the sharing was wide-ranging and interesting. We

talked about the wonders of figurative language, about how each of our writings were utterly

different, unique, and original in form, content, and style (there’s the VOICE thing), about the

enjoyable newness of the workshop as a social entity, about meta-cognition and talking about

how we were talking (Spear’s “group maintenance functions”). And we talked about how we

were all feeling interested in continuing the workshop even after next week’s session, which was

supposed to be the last.

David, who had to leave before we were done (he rises very early for work), wrote me an

email that I received when I got home:

ok, so maybe i’m way off here and just channelling my youth, but...

i got the impression from you this evening that you felt i was not

taking what you are doing seriously. what you should understand is

that i have almost no grip on what’s happening with this workshop and

as far as the specificity of it is concerned, i don’t really care.

what i do care about, is you as a teacher, i want to see you as a

teacher and not just a good one, but possibly one of the only teachers

who knows what to say to me as a student, our conversation a few

months ago excited me in a way i haven’t really known before. i revel

in the idea that my experience in school, which was wretched, couldasist a kid in one of your future classes. because maybe you’ll know

what to say when their whole identity as a student, is as a bad

student.

i’m too tired to complete any more coherent thoughts, but i assure

you, i do have more to say.

David

I wrote the following reply:

David,

(Your email has a wonderfully strange tone to it - a mix of delight and

engagement, frustration and hostility.) In fact, it never crossed my mind that you

were not taking the workshop seriously. I could see that you were struggling with

feeling that it was school-ish... but I certainly don’t mind that! I was being totally



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honest when I said rebellion is necessary. I want to be pushed on (if it’s for real -

which you are - and not malicious - which you’re not).

But your perception probably does relate to how I was really feeling. To

be honest, I was a little annoyed a couple of times when you and Jim were

whispering about whatever while we were discussing someone’s work. It’s just

as tough for the others to read as it is for you, so it’s crucial that each writer gets

everyone else’s full attention and respect. And...I felt defensive of Vicky when

you said (jokingly?) that her family sounded like “goody two-shoes white bread.”

Even as a joke, that comment clearly hurt her feelings. The fact that she’s a close

friend of mine complicates my feelings about it, too... (side effects of us all being

peers/friends.)

The other thing is that you have been at somewhat of a disadvantage since

the beginning, because you missed the first session, and were late to the second

one, and because you had to go home to bed before the last one was done – none

of which were your fault, I know... but maybe these things are making you feel

less - integrated? But it’s just a fluke of time, not about you yourself.

I am super glad you wrote to me... and glad you’re part of this thing... and

I’m really interested in your writing. We were talking (after you left, I think)

about how amazing it is that each of our writings are utterly different, unique, andoriginal in form, content, and style - how clearly each person’s voice and

personality comes through... Yours is, too, very much so!

Tell me more. And what will you bring for your hungry readers next

time?

Ch.

(David did not reply by email; but he showed up with renewed determination and, indeed,

seriousness at the next session, clearly not offended by my response.)

At the next and last session, I’d like to invite people to share again if they have something

new, or have revised their work. I’d also like to have some writing time – perhaps at the

beginning, for people to do revision or freewrite, or perhaps at the end, for me to get people’s

feedback about the workshop.



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Report after the fourth session: This was the last session I originally scheduled. My plan

called for everyone to have finished their pieces by this time, but of course they mostly had not

(because I didn’t require them to do homework, and we ended up spending so much time sharing

and responding – and doing that as a whole group rather than breaking off into smaller ones).

I began by asking the participants what they wanted to do that evening. Vicky, Kate, and

David all had new stuff they wanted to share, so we did that first. David’s work – an entirely

new piece he’d written earlier that day – generated especially eager discussion. He wrote about

one of his earliest experiences writing in school – copying a sentence off the board in first grade.

His concern over his handwriting (which he says has always been poor), combined with his

difficulty in paying attention for long periods of time (especially to what seemed to be

meaningless tasks), made it almost impossible for him to complete this assignment, which was

repeated daily. The way he wrote the story showed the reader exactly what that class must have

been like for this bright six-year-old, already routed into the category of “high ability but low

achiever.” His writing also shows very clearly his facility with writing, flair for humor mixed

with pathos, and flexible vocabulary.

By the time we finished discussing the three pieces, it was getting late; so I asked the

participants to write for ten minutes, reflecting on the workshop and giving me some feedback. I

offered several questions, but told them they were welcome to write whatever they chose. My

questions were: 1) What were your expectations before we started? What actually happened foryou? Differences? Surprises? 2) What was good, helpful? 3) What was difficult, annoying? 4)

What suggestions might you have for changes we could make (or I could make, either for this

thing or in my future teaching)?

Finally, I asked them to write down whether they wished to continue with the writing

group (feeling I oughtn’t to discuss the logistics of doing that until I’d heard from everyone).

And…everyone did want to continue! This was pretty amazing for me to hear, since I knew

many (most?) of them had agreed to participate largely in order to support me, their friend. But

it seems the workshop really offered them all something unusual and precious, something they

want to continue to commit to doing.

The following are the transcriptions of each participant’s feedback-writing.

Rose wrote:



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YES! I want to keep doing it! I’m not sure how much my personal needs

fit with the objective [I’m not sure what “objective” she’s referring to]… I

thoroughly enjoyed our meetings & would like to continue. I feel as though I

might land upon “creative writing” if I had a forum like this. My current situation

& needs tended to dictate my work over the last 4 weeks but I have found

inspiration in others. I definitely need to be focused, directed, but I enjoy the

format as it has been. The themes given initially were helpful & similar

“assignments” or suggestions would help to point me in a direction. I enjoy the

social nature of our meetings & while a class of strangers would have a slightly

different feel, I imagine a similar atmosphere would be born in a classroom. I

came with very few expectations & was pleasantly surprised.

Sorry about my handwriting. : (

… I especially enjoyed listening to everyone’s writing. I suspect in a class

setting this might be quite tedious; however, I think if it were couched in an

expansive [?] “get to know the writer” kind of way that might be alleviated.

…Thanks Chandra!

Kate wrote:

I had no expectations, no initial destination in mind. I wasn’t gung-ho due

to the commute involved with my attendance. There was a general need for me tohave a generic artist’s statement to wield as necessary in my future. Now that I

have a pressing need for this information I’m thankful that I got on board. Also,

have to do loads of formulaic and academic writing over the past 3/4 of a year

[she is in college, intermittently], it was refreshing to be given a free approach. I

did have problems fitting my brain around the idea of free writing as it was

presented. I think that was more pre-disposition combined with academia. Your

“forcing my hand” so to speak was good. I need to be discouraged from “my

way” in order to grow. I won’t say this was ultimately life-changing but it

reminded me that the creative process needn’t be limited to artful blah de blah.

(Notice I’m still not actually free writing. I will learn, I promise.) And I feel

closer to a smattering of people who mainly existed on the outskirts of my social

life. So again I’m thankful. You seem very patient and directed throughout this



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process. I’m proud of you and think you will have a wonderful impact on young

lives. Oh, to have had a chance to look at writing for school as less of a task and

more of freedom. You gave us freedom. Thanks.

Yes I do want to continue but life will get really chaotic in July and I’m

not sure which days or whatever are best.

Vicky wrote:

Yes! I would like to continue.

Might be good if we commit to, say, three more weeks, with the

understanding that we may decide to do 3 more after that, etc. etc. – better than

committing to some indefinite period. And I think the short time-frame helps one

focus on the writing project at hand, rather than endlessly blathering about

something different every week.

The amount of structure you gave us was perfect – not too much, not too

little, just enough to keep us focused on a particular project, get people to make

progress and think hard about what they are doing, and get people to be invested

in what the other members of the group are doing. Mutual responsibility, but not

so much of it that it feels like work. You achieved the perfect balance in this

respect. It’s been wonderful for me to have time and space and a reason to write

about things that I simply want to explore, in this border [?], delicious spacebetween intellect and emotion. It’s very grounding for me, for lack of a better

word, brings me to my senses. Allows me to apply my brainiest intellect to my

inner life, allows me to integrate these things in a way that’s rarely possible in the

rest of my life.

It’s been wonderful, too, to see my friends in this new context, to hear

their thoughts in another form, to engage with them in a slightly more formal,

intellectual way.

Thank you thank you. I’m sure I’ll tell you more later.

David wrote:

i've written you a response in declaritive essay form, as it allowed me to

focus on my own thoughts rather than in the terms of conversation. also, i may

want to include it in my other work.



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- David

deliberation centerfuge

When i recieved the invitation to join a writing workshop, i really wasn't

sure what to expect. but i thought that it might, at the very least, be a good chance

to shape a new teacher. an idea that was very appealing to me as into teaching had

been, at one point in my life, something i'd very much considered following my

father. however, parodoxically inspired and deterred by difficulties with my own

educators throughout my life, i decided, finally, to terminate furthing my

education after narrowly escaping a fifth highschool year.

and though the stated purpose of assisting in a thesis on the topic of

(teaching in the 21st century? writing? teaching english?) that had inspired the

beginning of the workshop, has been well and wholely completed, i dread any

upcoming disbanment as none of us have thusfar completed our own process. so i

propose that we all must continue in our ventures until one or all of us has had an

item published in one fashion or another, and thereby making it available to the

wider public.

Jim wrote:

* What were your expectations before we started? What actually

happened for you? Differences? Surprises?I didn't know what to expect, exept maybe a chance to learn and time for

writing. I knew there would be a group dynamic. The mix of people was good.

It was enough comfort and enough discomfort to make things work well. It's was

mellow. Great to hear others points of view and summaries.

The teacher was hot [Jim is my boyfriend…] and did a good job.

The process is helpful. I have been working twards this process for a

while now. So it really didn't seem like much of a stretch for me. I like to have

concrete linear plans layed out like the process.

I discovered it's hard for me to refine, but worth it.

* What was good, helpful? Specifics...

Of course just writing in general is helpful- all by it's self. There is



79

something to be said for doing it every week, even forced writing. That alone is

helpful. It seems like the process writing technique is useful. I like the approach.

Training the brain to do the task it's good at for your frame of mind and vice

versa. The whole idea that different parts of your brain do specific tasks is

helpful. Just gotta make use of that.

Good feedback / listening skills.

* What was difficult, annoying? Specifics...

Timeline. It's good that there was no homework, but I sure didn't get a lot

done.

There are a lot of ideas... Now I just have to refine. It takes me a long

time to do that kind of thing.

Teacher / peer thing is kinda weird. Sometimes I thought you should be

more part of the group and less teacherly. Not the case when working with

youngsters I suppose.

* What suggestions might you have for changes we could make (or I could

make, either for this thing or in future teaching situations)?

I'd like to start the class with writing 10 minutes on whatever. I think

people will cool out and start to invest themselves... then be able to focus and

coming-to. Free writing has a way of getting all the noise out... then you are ableto hear the musical notes betta.

Then the course outline, then listen / feedback with some - maybe not all

participants.

Recap / Wrap up.... next weeks schedule as part of the course outline.

Other than that it went pretty smoothly as-is.

Henry wrote:

The process writing writing process process is a unique process of writing.

I would like to continue, but in a slightly less structured manner. This is

not to say I think our previous sessions were overly structured, but I value the

openness and free sensation that comes with a casual environment. The need to

adhere to a certain format because Chandra was piloting her curriculum was

something I think everyone was comfortable with and that worked well...but like



80

Chandra said, it was quite intentional, to view Chandra as teacher, and friends and

lovers as writing peers and fellow students.

I think we have established a nice group dynamic that can thrive inside or

outside of a particular curriculum. We all share an interest in writing and sharing

writing, and the process has increased our comfort with these activities.

I have enjoyed writing more since moving to Northfield, and hope to

continue writing more and living more.

Thanks to Chandra for putting together a great group and positive

environment for writing. I must acknowledge that before session one I was a bit

skeptical of what this would be like but I’ve found it quite valuable and really

enjoy hearing other people's musings.

And I wrote:

So here we are, all done – but it also feels like a beginning – definitely a

beginning for me – and perhaps for all of us, too – a beginning/continuing of

becoming writers, friends, a community of thinking & sharing. It’s remarkably

different & powerful – I feel I know you all – my friends – more deeply – your

individuality & complexity (I know I’ve said it before, too).

Writing & sharing & hearing your work makes me want to write, myself –

to be not just a writing teacher but to “practice what I preach” – and I think that Icould really do something – make progress – continuing in this kind of mode

together.

I like the balance of friends and acquaintances – feeling that if we were all

intimates it wouldn’t work so well, but also that if we were strangers at the start, it

would have taken a lot longer to build a sense of togetherness as we seem to have

done.

This thing has very much a life of its own, beyond its function as the thesis

praxis – sometimes it’s hard for me to “translate” when I write about it later – and

rarely do I think about my thesis while I’m here.

Anyway, thank you!

I read my piece aloud to them at the end, and others shared some of their reflections, too.

Jim, David, and Henry all asked that I send an email with my questions, so they could respond in



81

depth at their leisure. Finally, we discussed some aspects of how we would proceed in future,

and then we adjourned.

While I did not set out specific learning objectives for the writing group, several goals are

apparent in the Road Test Plan. I wanted people to have the chance – the time – to write

something they might have been carrying around as a seed. I wanted to help people get from a

desire to write to actually writing something. I wanted to offer people the concepts of the writing

process (with phases) and of peer response, both to see how I might go about teaching those, as

well as providing my students with valuable tools to help them “write more easily and more

effectively” (Road Test Plan). It is clear to me from my observations during the sessions that the

participants do feel they have acquired valuable tools, and that they are making progress in

writing more easily and effectively.

I have also noticed progress in some of the areas I emphasize in my actual curriculum

project. The workshop participants show: less fear of writing and of sharing/publicizing writing;

increased confidence in writing skill; increased self-confidence in general; and increased interest

in writing. Given the short time we’ve been working together, it is difficult to tell if there has

been significant development in participants’ writing “voice” (though as noted above, they all

have a very clear voice already). I did not see as much increase as I’d hoped in people’s self-

awareness as responders, however. It seems that learning the feedback process takes lots of

time; I think we would probably get further with more direct attention to it, and more instructionfrom me.

On the whole, the “writing club,” as it has come to be known, has been a remarkable

success, both for me and for my fellow students.

VI. Reflections

The whole project has been extremely complicated. Writing this process paper has

helped me sort out the complexities, and I’m grateful to have been forced to write it! However,

this paper presents a much clearer (perhaps over-simplified) picture of my thinking than my

thinking actually is, or has been – even though it may not appear simplistic to the reader. I can

only hope that my writing is “good enough” to convey the silhouette of my thought process.



82

There was a question that bothered me during most of this semester. It occurred to me

early on, demanding resolution: Am I a fraud if I teach writing without being a passionate and

committed writer myself? I knew right away that the answer must be No. The first reason that

made sense was this: I’m not trying to make Writers of my students. There is more to writing

than making great art, publishing it, and becoming famous (or as famous as writers can become,

which is not very). In fact, I suspect that teaching writing with the belief that one can transform

or develop one’s students into Writers is pretentious, self-aggrandizing, probably impossible.

The other way to say no to fraudulence is, well, to be a passionate and committed writer.

That’s what I’d rather do, anyway. This semester, I took a giant step toward being that writer by

starting the writing club. This thing (as I often think of it) has ended up being the most useful

part of the project, and the most fun. That’s an interesting result, given that I did it mostly

because it was required: I kind of threw it together, not necessarily expecting a lot out of it. Boy,

was I surprised! As it happens, writing is more fun to do than to think about, research, or even

write about.

However, student teaching and the workshop have suggested that the writing is not the

hardest thing to do. Teaching and learning how to respond helpfully to others, and how to revise

one’s own writing (incorporating others’ responses) are the toughest tasks. Both experiences,

and much of my reading, have also fed my obsession with the necessity of relegating writing

mechanics to the back row. People feel so much stress about writing correctly – but that stressonly prevents them from writing interestingly. Editing should always happen “later” – once the

real writing is complete.

Also, the writing group vividly showed the complexity that comes with specific situations

– the complexity of individuals and their unique interactions with one another, one-on-one and

as a group. Experiencing this complexity again (it was definitely present in my student teaching

experience) helped to affirm my sense that the curriculum should be as flexible as possible. As I

went along, I found myself feeling more and more resistant to the very idea of a creative writing

curriculum. I kept thinking, this will all depend on the students/writers! When I finally read

Atwell, toward the end of the project, I was convinced. A curriculum should be a guidebook and

toolbox, not a package-tour planned “adventure.”

My ignorance of curriculum development practices and conventions has perhaps served

me well, then. I have never actually seen a full-fledged, semester-long course curriculum – only



83

unit plans. Having no real models, while sometime frustrating, nonetheless enabled the freedom

of thought that led to my idiosyncratic decision to “balance structure and freedom” in my own

way.

Finally, I am pleased to realize that this curriculum could prove very useful to me in the

future – certainly, if I have the opportunity to teach a creative writing course, but also as a

resource for teaching any writing-centered course. The weekly schedule’s rotating mix of

activities, the combination of reading, writing, and response, the balancing of structure and

freedom in pedagogy and in the writing process itself – all could be fairly easily adapted for use

in, say, a freshman composition course.

That said – onward, con brio!



84

References



Baart, N. (2002, January). Saying it more intensely: Using sensory experience to teach poetry

writing. English Journal, 98-103.

Bintz, W.P., and Henning-Shannon, T. (2005). Using poems for multiple voices to teach

creative writing. English Journal, 94 (4), 33-40.

Berman, J. (1994). Diaries to an English professor: Pain and growth in the classroom.

Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press.

Brewbaker, J. (2005). Fifty-five teachers, poems in hand, approach the cruelest month. English

Journal, 94 (4), 18-22.



Cheney, M.A. (2002, January). Expanding vision: Teaching haiku. English Journal, 79-83.

Cobbs, L. (2005). Learning to listen, listening to learn: Teaching poetry as a sensory medium.

English Journal, 94 (4), 28-32.

Cook, K. (2002). Fiction writing: Characterization [and] plot [and] setting: ArtsEdge curricula,

lessons and activities. ERIC document number 475410.Dykstra, J., and Dykstra, F.E. (1997). Imagery and synectics for modeling poetry writing.

ERIC document number 408964.

Ediger, M. (2002). Exploring poetry: The reading and writing connection. ERIC document

number 461827.

Eggers, D. (Ed.). (2002-2005). The best American nonrequired reading. (Series). Boston:

Houghton Mifflin Company.

Elbow, P. (1981). Writing with power: Techniques for mastering the writing process. Oxford

University Press.

Elbow, P. (1995). Voice as a lightning rod for dangerous thinking. ERIC document number

391171.

Gibson, C.A.S. (Undated). Poetry: Sound and sense. Accessed on 4/1/06 from

http://www.readwritethink.org/lessons/lesson_view.asp?id=848



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Gilchrist, E. (2005). The writing life. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi.

Greenberg, S. (1996). Let’s get personal: Responding to creative writing. ERIC document

number 397433.

Herrmann, R., and Tabor, D. (1974). Expressive writing: Psychological development and

educational setting in a new language curriculum. Unpublished dissertation: Harvard

University.

International Reading Association, and National Council of Teachers of English. (Undated).

IRA/NCTE standards for the English language arts: The 12 standards. Retrieved February

8, 2006, from the ReadWriteThink website:

http://www.readwritethink.org/standards/index.html

Keil, K. (2005). Rediscovering the joy of poetry. English Journal, 95 (1), 97-102.

Kohn, A. (2006). The trouble with rubrics. English Journal, 95 (4), 12-15.

LaFleur, D. (2001). Transformative language arts in the English classroom: Theory into

practice. Unpublished manuscript.

Maginnis, M. (1996). Methods of teaching creative writing in high school: A review of recent

literature. ERIC document number 394143.

McClatchy, J.D. (Ed.) (2003). The Vintage book of contemporary American poetry. Second

edition. New York: Vintage Books.

Reed, I. (Ed.). (2003). From totems to hip-hop: A multicultural anthology of poetry across the Americas, 1900-2002. New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press.

Salzman, M. (2003). True notebooks. Read by Paul Boehmer. Audio edition 2003.

Westminster, Maryland: Books On Tape, Inc.


Schulze, P. (Undated). Found Poems/Parallel Poems. Retrieved April 5, 2006 from the

ReadWriteThink website: http://www.readwritethink.org/lessons/lesson_view.asp?id=33



Shapard, R., and Thomas, J. (Eds.). (1989). Sudden fiction international: 60 short-short stories.

New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

Shapard, R., and Thomas, J. (Eds.). (1996). Sudden fiction (continued): 60 new short-short

stories. New York: W.W. Norton & Company.



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Street, C. (2005, May). A reluctant writer’s entry into a community of writers. Journal of

adolescent and adult literacy, 48, 636-641.

Tindall, J. (1992). Sudden fiction: What is it? ERIC document number 354547.

Van Troyer, G. (1995). The poem in process: Writing and revision and revision and… ERIC

document number 408584.

Williams, J.D. (2003). Preparing to teach writing: Research, theory, and practice. (3rd Ed.)

Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers.

Williford, L., and Martone, M. (Eds.). (1999). The Scribner anthology of contemporary short

fiction: Fifty North American stories since 1970. New York: Scribner Paperback Fiction.

Womelsduff, D. (2005). The paradox of structure and freedom: An experiment in writing

poetry. English Journal, 94 (4), 23-27.

Wyngaard, S., and Gehrke, R. (1996) Responding to audience: Using rubrics to teach and

assess writing. English Journal, 85 (6), 67-70.



87

Appendix A: Selected Annotated Bibliography



When students do not have ownership of their writing, when they are told to write in a

specific form, on a specific topic, they produce writing of poor quality, lacking in voice and

interest. Atwell’s book shows and tells how to allow students the freedom they need to become

real writers. The essentials of the writing workshop are: student choice of topic; no blanket

deadlines; feedback from peers and teacher; plenty of opportunities for sharing and publication.

Careful organization and record-keeping are crucial teacher duties. Each class period begins

with a mini-lesson about workshop procedures, the craft of writing, or writing mechanics.

Atwell teaches the process writing approach. She teaches response by role-playing a successful

“conference” and then a not-so-successful one, discussing each with the class to ensure their

understanding of the characteristics of helpful feedback.

Berman, J. (1994). Diaries to an English professor: Pain and growth in the classroom.

Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press.

This book chronicles Berman’s experiences teaching a class on literature and

psychoanalysis at SUNY Albany. As part of the coursework, he asks the students to write aweekly diary; Berman reads a few of the diary entries aloud to the class each week, maintaining

the writers’ anonymity. Students who combine personal and academic writing develop deeper

understanding of the literature they read. Sharing the writing fosters greater community feeling

in the classroom. The author promotes an “intersub-jective paradigm” of education, defined by

connection, mutuality, and “realness” between students and teachers. He argues that because “all

learning involves both affective and cognitive elements,” teachers have a responsibility to

engage empathically with their students (p. 226). This model of teaching is particularly

appropriate for writing classes, which tend to be emotionally fraught. Berman’s book offers

insights into the subtle complexities of interpersonal relationships in academic settings.





88

This book is essentially a curriculum guide for an introductory poetry writing class. The

chapters present a sequence of topical writing assignments, beginning with memories of

childhood and then broadening the scope to include more complex subject matter. Students

begin each assignment with a “fastwrite” or freewrite, which they revise (through small group

work) into a poem. The authors skillfully interlace exercises, examples, and instruction in poetic

techniques. The book is unusual in that the authors give examples of both professional and

student work as models for the exercises. Brown and Glass believe that learning to write

happens through “imitation and emulation” (p. viii). Their presentation suggests that students

must go through these exact steps to achieve poetic proficiency. They defend this position by

referencing their own experience, rather than through theory or argument; this reader was

unconvinced.

Elbow, P. (1981). Writing with power: Techniques for mastering the writing process. Oxford

University Press.

This book is useful for better understanding of how to write and share writing in a

group/workshop setting. While the book is addressed to leaders of non-academic, adult writing

workshops, the author also discusses some of the specific concerns of teachers and students.

Elbow discusses many psychological aspects of writing that few others mention; for example, the

indeterminacy of the hypothetical “audience” of an academic paper, and the problems that causesfor inexperienced writers. In the section on feedback Elbow suggests many questions for use in

feedback groups, dividing them into “criterion-based” and “reader-based” types.

Herrmann, R., and Tabor, D. (1974). Expressive writing: Psychological development and

educational setting in a new language curriculum. Unpublished dissertation: Harvard

University.

In their collaborative dissertation, the authors discuss findings that emerged out of their

team-teaching several iterations of a writing course they developed for secondary students. The

course taught “expressive” writing – a form of personal freewriting that promotes access to

emotion and the creation of idiosyncratic imagery. Students wrote through a series of exercises,

went on field trips (for sensory richness), and participated in extensive class discussion and

sharing of writing. The authors delved deeply into psychological theory and thematic analysis,



89

but I found more useful their description of successfully balancing structure (the “rituals” of

daily activities) and freedom (adaptability of assignments to students’ “individual purposes and

motivations”).

Salzman, M. (2003). True notebooks. Read by Paul Boehmer. Audio edition 2003.

Westminster, Maryland: Books On Tape, Inc.

This book is an account of Salzman’s two years of teaching writing to “high-risk

offenders” at a juvenile detention facility in Los Angeles. The author was surprised to find that

he was not afraid of the boys; and they soon developed a workable classroom community. His

students wrote mostly on personal topics, in whatever form they chose. Salzman suggested

topics (for example, “father” or “regret”) only if a student did not already have an idea. The

student/prisoners’ writing was better than Salzman expected. Also, writing seemed to help them

think through their situations. This book clearly indicates that writing is worthwhile even if it

does not produce great art, as well as proving that allowing students to choose their own topics is

doable and effective in eliciting good writing.


This book is useful for better understanding of how to write and share writing in a

group/workshop setting. While the book is addressed to leaders of non-academic, adult writingworkshops, the author also discusses some of the specific concerns of teachers and students.

Schneider has a great big-picture perspective, while also providing plenty of details, examples,

and ideas. She gives good advice about the less-tangible aspects of leading a writing group –

how to be flexible (so as to foster, not constrain creativity), be encouraging, ensure safety and

confidentiality. Schneider refers often to Peter Elbow and the writing process. The book

contains many wonderful writing exercises. Her instructions for setting up and leading a writing

group/workshop are helpful.



Shapard and Thomas were the first to introduce the “sudden fiction” as a genre. This

anthology, as well as the two others published later, would be useful as reading material for a



90

creative writing class. The stories, widely varying in subject matter and style, are short enough

to read (and re-read) in a single class period. Their shortness enables the reader to hold an entire

story in the mind at once, turning it around and thinking about its techniques, structure, tone, and

effect. Such practice would be useful for writers learning to conceptualize their own stories.



This book presents original research on group processes in secondary and college writing

classrooms, plus a survey of existing research in group processes, psychology and composition.

Spear outlines the benefits of “peer response groups” (small groups of three to five students) in

writing classes. She notes that writing is a process of thought: ideas develop during writing and

during conversation. Thus, group members must develop social skills (listening and giving

feedback) to be effective as collaborators in developing writing skills. The author describes in

detail why some groups don’t work, and behaviors exhibited in groups that do work. The book’s

organization is confusing, and the author offers many examples of student work without

adequate interpretation. However, there is much useful information in this book not found

elsewhere.

Williams, J.D. (2003). Preparing to teach writing: Research, theory, and practice. (3

rd

Ed.)Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers.

This book is a comprehensive text on teaching writing in grades K-12. It discusses all the

major issues in the teaching of writing, instructs the reader in best practices, and surveys the

important research and theory informing those practices. Williams cites NAEP data to support

his contention that the process approach to composition is best practice in writing instruction.

The process consists of eight phases: invention, planning, drafting, pausing, reading, revising,

editing, and publishing. He includes examples in his explanation of each phase. The author

recommends implementing small work groups; they improve student motivation, and peer

feedback, along with the teacher’s, is helpful to writers. Teachers are advised to avoid editing

while grading, and to focus on “global, rhetorical problems first [and] local, surface problems

second” when responding to student work-in-progress (p. 149). Williams holds strong opinions,

but grounds them in sound reasoning and research.



91

Appendix B: The “Road Test”: A Four-Session Writing Workshop

The “invitation” is the text of the email I sent out to about twenty people, requesting their

participation in this practical component of my project. Following the invitation is my plan for

the workshop, written rather like a script (since it was designed for my own use only). I have

also included a handout listing several writing prompts/ exercises, which I provided to any

participants who wanted it.

Invitation:

I am working on my master’s thesis on teaching writing, and would like you to be

involved in a “road test”. Do you have something to say, but haven’t been able to get it written?

Or, do you have the desire to write, but aren’t sure what you want to say? Or, do you want to

help out a friend, have fun and get a little learnin’ while you’re at it?

The writing workshop will be four sessions, one per week, one hour each time. And no

homework! The sessions will be Monday evenings, starting April 10th. We will meet at the

Tavern Lounge, which is nice and quiet at 7pm early in the week.

We’ll do some writing, and give and get some feedback. You can write whatever you

like - poem, story, essay, speech, ad copy, whatever. If you need ideas, you can get ‘em here,

too. I need your help! Thank you, friends.

Session One:

Introduction: What we will be doing. Basically, we are going to do four hours of work,

over four weeks, and end up with a more-or-less finished piece of writing. The piece will be

yours – you can write whatever you like – a story, or poem, or essay, or speech, or something

undefined – whatever. You won’t need to do any work at home. What I will be doing is trying

out two teaching ideas: process writing and peer response. Neither are new ideas, but they are

somewhat new to me, so I’d like to get a sense of how they work in real life.

Process writing: The basic idea is that you just don’t write the piece all at once. There

are a few different phases in writing – idea generation, drafting, revision, and finishing. These

phases don’t follow a strict order, and every writer has different methods. Sometimes ideas

occur during revision, or a brainstorming session turns into a draft, or they might all happen sort



92

of simultaneously. What I’m going to try to do with you is help you be more aware of those

phases so you can write more easily and more effectively. During the revision and finishing

phases, we will be doing some work together, in groups of three (?) – this will be the “peer

response” part.

Idea generation: Brainstorming with other people can be very effective, as you may have

experienced in other situations. For this workshop, though, I’d like you to do your idea

generation individually. I have several “assignments” for anyone who wants one (I’ll bring the

Appendix of my curriculum, the big pile of ideas). However, if you already have an idea, even a

vague idea, please go with it! You’re also welcome to just start writing and see what ideas pop

up. Which brings us to…

Drafting: I’d like to introduce you all to what’s called “freewriting” – some of you may

have heard of “stream-of-consciousness” – it’s basically just that. This is going to be our staple

writing method. We will just sit and write for ten minutes. No worrying about grammar or

spelling, no stopping to think of the “right word” or trying to be organized. Just blather – rant –

write. Start with writing down a sketch of your idea, if you have one. If you get stuck, go back

and reread the last couple of lines you wrote, then keep going. It doesn’t have to be in complete

sentences. No one is going to read this but you – the “audience” for this piece is just yourself.

So say what you want to say in whatever way will be clear or make sense to you when you read

it. If you find yourself using line breaks, like in a poem, that’s fine. You’ll be surprised at howmuch you can write in ten minutes!

Discussion: How did it go? Would a couple people be willing to sort of tell the story of

their freewriting? [Do that…] Other experiences? I’m trying to get a sense of what this process

is like for different people; how well it “works” (or doesn’t). How do people feel about the

actual thing they just wrote? Is it crap? Great? Are parts of it worth keeping, reworking, going

further with? [I’ll be taking notes…]

Read/write: Now, please go back and read what you just wrote. Read it a couple times

over. Underline the parts you like. At the bottom of the (last) page, write a little encapsulation

of what your freewrite is about. This doesn’t necessarily have to be a sentence – just a summary.

Session Two:



93

Revision: We’re going to do several kinds of revision in this workshop. The first kind is

more of a re-write, or write-again. We’re going to read over our own freewrite, then do a

second freewrite that sort of refocuses: figure out what’s really good in the first one, and start

with restating that, verbatim if you like, or actually rewording it; then continue in the freewrite

mode and see if you can take your idea further, or deeper. Use the stuff you underlined, and use

your summary as a jumping-off point. (If you are really completely dissatisfied with the first

freewrite, you may start afresh with another freewrite). Do this re-freewrite for ten minutes.

If you’re ready to share your work at this point, please join the others who are (forming a

small group). If not, that’s fine – please take a little break and then work on revising your piece.

For the sharing/response group:

Guidelines: Treat all work as fiction unless the writer tells you it is autobiographical. Be

compassionate – this writing work can be scary! And, for this session, because we are sharing

such new stuff, we are going to focus on ideas and message clarity only. We are not going to

look at (or for) weaknesses or problems. Each writer presents his/her piece (read it aloud, or ask

someone else to read for you) – probably twice, and then leads the discussion of his/her own

work. First, ask someone to paraphrase back to you what they just heard. This gives you a sense

of how your message is coming across. Next, ask people to tell you about your writing’s

strengths: the general ones, but also specific sentences or passages that stood out for them as

being particularly resonant. Try not to revert to simple judgments (even positive ones) like “Thatwas good.” Then ask for feedback about which parts were confusing for the readers/listeners.

Finally, if the writer is concerned about something in particular, he/she is welcome to ask for

feedback about that.

Writers: Take notes! Listen carefully!

Discussion: How did your revision work go? For those in the feedback group, how did

that go? Useful?

Session Three:

If you would like to continue working on revising your piece, please feel free to do so. (I

expect most people will want to do some revision at this point.)

For those who are ready to share, please join the (one of the?) feedback group. (First-

time feedback goes first, according to guidelines noted in Session Two.) Those who are veteran



94

writing-sharers (who shared last session) will now have the opportunity to get more in-depth

feedback. (Here I’ll use the “Guidelines for Peer Response”.)

Discussion: How’s the writing/revision going? How about the feedback group? (Here

I’ll probably refer to the “Student Report” questionnaire.)

Session Four:

The last session! We’ll take a few minutes to read over our own work and tweak it if

necessary. Then we’ll gather together and do some sharing. If there are those who want a lot of

feedback (to help with further revision), let’s work with your stuff first. Otherwise, we’ll just

read aloud and give one another a few responses – keep them encouraging.

Discussion, please – the whole thing. What was good? What was annoying? Etc.

(If it seems right…) Let’s close with a short freewrite. When finished, those who would

like to share may do so. No responses this time – these are just “good-bye gifts.”

Thank you!



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Ideas…(a handout for the Road Test)

• Your name: What do you like and dislike about your name? How does it feel to be called by

it? How does it feel to have been named by your parents?

• Write about food, something that is very solid and real, write about a meal you love, the

foods you love the most. Be specific…

• Write to your mirror; or in the voice of your mirror, or about a part of your body (try to avoid

being negative).

• Find an object somewhere around you – in your bag/purse, on the table, in the immediate

environment – and start writing about it. See where it takes you. Every object here is full of

story – what it was before it was made into this object, and where it has been, and the stories

of all the people who have used it.

• What matters? Right now, this minute, what matters? Ask yourself…

• Begin with an image from a dream, and write freely, letting words and associations come as

they will, without imposing any necessity of order.

• Write in great detail about something you do often (shaving, washing dishes, mowing a lawn,

cooking a favorite dish).

• List three things you want to keep and three things you want to lose. Then write.

• Arguing amongst yourself: You’ve heard of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the

other. Re-characterize them as you please, such that each takes one side of a debate you’rehaving (or have had) with yourself. Choose any question or topic that is (or was) difficult to

figure out. Write a dialogue between the two characters discussing/arguing the question.

Use quotation marks, indenting, two colors, or two sides of the page if you like.



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Appendix C: Autobiographical Material

Perhaps because I was the only child of a single, working mother, growing up in a house

with no TV, I grew up reading a lot, and I mean a lot. I played long improvisational narrative

games with any friends whom I could coerce into cooperating. I also wrote stories. I clearly

remember typing up the first (?) one, which featured a princessy character called Rose. Later,

my best friend Chelsea and I co-wrote (or perhaps just told) a horror story called something like

“When the Clock Strikes Thirteen,” which scared the bejesus out of us while we told it to each

other in her not very spooky attic.

I think I was in middle school when I began writing poetry. Our English teacher, Rita

Weiss, was a take-no-prisoners kind of lady with short gray hair, a slight palsy in the head and

neck, and a constant semi-smile which was simultaneously comforting and terrifying. She had

incredibly high standards. While we were pretty smart, and it was a private school, I can safely

say I was not the only one for whom being force-fed Thoreau and Fitzgerald at age twelve

inspired revulsion and hostility. At any rate, Rita also had us read Whitman, whom I can’t

imagine I understood (at least not intellectually), but whose work I adored. She assigned us an

imitation of Song of Myself. I wrote a rather good poem, I must say. Even now I think it

readable. My mother loved it, and I think Rita did, too. And voila, I was a poet.

Rita also drilled us in the old five-paragraph essay form. Or I might say, she drilled it

into us. Either way, I absorbed its principles, and henceforth did my best to break its rules. Idon’t know if it was a good thing to learn, or if my departures from its structural pen were at all

beneficial. I don’t really even know what I’m saying here, when I talk about essay form being

possibly “good” or “beneficial.” Maybe good writing is like obscenity – you can’t define it, but

you know it when you see it. You see, I don’t actually know if I was a “good student,” by which

I mean a student who got “it” (whatever “it” is or was) and who had ability in her field;

especially once I was an English major in college. I don’t know what those professors were

looking for!!! They gave grades, which told me to what extent I was giving them what they

wanted (or pleasing them in whatever way they needed to be pleased in order to hand over the

As). They certainly didn’t provide rubrics or even clues as to what we were supposed to be

doing. Authentic assessment is not a phrase commonly found on the lips of academicians (or at

least, it wasn’t when I was an undergraduate, lo these long six years ago).

Speaking of therapeutic writing (have I?), it sure feels good to say that stuff in the



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preceding paragraph. Let me elaborate just a bit more: I don’t know what English is supposed to

be, never did know. I think it facetious and elitist of those wanks in the Ivory Tower to pretend

it’s a non-subjective subject. Bah, humbug! Art by any other name is no more scientific!

All right, I’m done ranting about that now. Back to middle school.

I kept writing, both for school and for fun. I kept reading, too, adding a junk genre

(fantasy/science fiction) to my regular diet of classics. I had delusions of future literary

grandeur. I continued to be a complete nerd, as I had been since before I knew what that meant.

Luckily, I went to a high school designed for nerds, by nerds, which meant that once there, the

label disappeared, being a relative distinction in the first place.

Almost immediately, I began my adolescent transformation. Adolescence is like the

interim period between caterpillar and butterfly, when the chrysalis is just a sac of genetic fluid.

Mine began to shape up when I was about fifteen. My writing became more and more personal

and specific as my character gelled. A series of short, fiery, probably unrequited crushes put my

nascent skills to the test. I improved. I met several other literary-minded folks and we became

what felt more like a movement than a clique. We read the same books, often aloud to one

another; we wrote and read each other’s work and sometimes collaborated; we demanded an

extra-curricular short story writing class at school and they got one going for us. With my new

best friend, Amy (aka Liza Jane), I started a humorous/literary ‘zine called “A Pirate’s Bedside

Companion.” It was a big hit with our fellow students but got us in trouble with theadministration, who misinterpreted our inclusion of a recipe for chicken breasts (breasts!?),

which was really entirely innocent.

Stan Washburn was our after-school special teacher. He was, like Rita, grey-haired and a

little twitchy, inspiring fear and fondness in his students. Before being recruited for the short-

story-writing-teaching gig, he was the technical theater teacher/director. I designed costumes for

several productions under his watchful eye (being such a poor actor that I was unfit for the

stage). Stan also wrote (writes?) realistic police mysteries/thrillers. I’ve read several, and

they’re gripping psychological page-turners, to borrow some back-cover copy. He was a good

writing teacher, at any rate. He facilitated discussions, coaxed out drafts and rewrites, tolerated

no shoddy shenanigans. We each wrote a story every week (!). We learned about the

importance of the story arc’s being shapely (you know what that means when you see it, too).

We heard and adopted his belief that most contemporary fiction suffers from a metaphorical



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blondness: it’s pretty, but empty. Technically fine and full of scrumptious words and syntax, but

boring, soulless, not ultimately worth the time it takes to read it.

My other formative teacher of the era was Nancy Steele, a perfectly capable, intelligent,

nice-ish woman whose voice was her most interesting feature – rather low, but nasal, too.

Voices are really difficult to describe. But I can still hear hers in my imagination. She taught a

seminar-style class called Poetry, which was a little more than halfway a writing class. I

remember three things about it. On the first day, she asked us to make a list of our fifty favorite

words; she refused to be any more specific about what “favorite” meant. Of course later we had

to write poems with them. But it was an interesting and enjoyable exercise that made me think

about words qua words, as well as realizing that a poem doesn’t have to start with an idea – all

you need is a handful of words, and the ideas coalesce around them. Ms. Steele did another

exercise with us that I hereby vow to always do with my students, as early as possible in the

semester. The assignment was to write, in class, the most clichéd poem you could write. When

we’d done that (I think I wrote three, all of which rhymed, contained several groan-worthy

similes, and were about love) we shared them and laughed at them. This activity ensured

everyone’s vigilance re: their own writing throughout the term. Rarely did anyone bring in work

that made the rest of us cringe.

The third memorable bit of the class was when I did my presentation on Robert Creeley

(she had us all choose, research, and present on a more-or-less contemporary poet). I’d read apoem of his in which “she,” who had been walking on the beach, made “an obscene movement

on the sand” near a large rock. My ignorant interpretation was that she was masturbating; but

everyone else read it as her taking a shit. Which of course made tons of sense, but had not

occurred to me. (I’m surprised that the concept of obscenity has appeared twice now in this

essay. I didn’t plan it that way, I swear. I’m not obsessed!) Ms. Steele tried to hear my

interpretation as valid, but I could see her trying, and knew I was just plain Wrong. I was

embarrassed more by the poop reference than by my misreading, though, I think.

Anyway, I did a lot of writing in high school. I wrote stories and poetry for classes at

school, more poetry outside of school, and kept a scrapbook/journal thing. I applied to a

selective summer arts program, was accepted, and wrote quantities of very decent stuff while

there. The emotional craziness, academic pressures (prep school) and overfilled schedule were

delicious fuel to me then. Absorb, process, write, repeat. It was great. I have rarely met anyone



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who loved high school as much as I did (or at all). That’s one of the main reasons I want to

teach it – I think no one should feel like they’re wasting their time at school.

At the summer program, I was blessed with yet another excellent writing teacher: Tracy. I

don’t remember anything about her person except that she was Black – perhaps my first Black

teacher? (Can that be true? It’s surprising.) It’s a tragedy to me that I can’t even remember her

last name, because I’d love to Google her and see what she’s up to. Back then, her day job was

teaching writing to male felons in a big prison in/near L.A. She was totally hard core:

demanding, critical, and tough-loving. Her brilliance and charisma were very effective on us

kids. On the first day of her Prose Poetry Writing class, she forbade us to write about love. She

said only Neruda could write about love and get away with it (she read us some of his work and

we were convinced). She also told us we were not to cuss in our poems, unless that was really,

truly the only word we could use to say what we needed to say. She made us understand that

“bad words” have power only when used unexpectedly, and thus necessarily they must be used

selectively. Later, she lectured us on the importance of line breaks and the conscious,

conscientious placement thereof. To demonstrate, she staged a performance (that was a new idea

to us, too – performing poetry?!) of her own work. She played a John Coltrane CD while she

read/recited, interacting with the music, sounding like her words were music. Aha…

As college loomed, I grew tetchy and depressive, as did most of my friends. If the world

were at all humane, we wouldn’t have had to part. But part we did, and off I went to (ugh) theMidwest. Goodbye San Francisco, hello cornfields. Need I say that year one was mostly

misery? Interrupted, of course, by a variety of challenges and amusements, big and small,

personal and academic. I experienced Winter. I contracted a series of ridiculous boyfriends. I

changed. And I kept writing…but I wrote less often and, I must say, less well.

As I struggled, with little success, to Grow Up, what had been a melancholy streak in me

became a full-blown tendency to depression. Five months per year of deathly cold and little

sunshine did not do me any favors, either. My heart was slowly pulverized by thwarted

romance, overwork, bad weather (have I mentioned that before?), and the rape of one of my

friends. I lost Amy, my best friend from high school (she didn’t die, she just stopped returning

my calls). I wrote poems that were really, really bad.

Actually, they weren’t that bad, but I thought they were at the time. Worse, writing them

made me feel worse. If I was sad, I wrote a sad poem and felt sadder. And my stories – ick. I



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did take a writing class in college, Advanced Short Story, but it wasn’t really. I loathed the

professor’s low standards, sparse and disinterested responses, indeed himself entirely.

So eventually I stopped writing. I got right out of that habit and I’ve never really gotten

back in. I’m afraid of the blank page, even though every time I get over that hurdle, I find it’s

really not so bad, and I’m not so bad at doing it. So okay, sometimes I do some writing. Once a

month or so, I’ll write down a dream or a poem. Sometimes I bust out a fabulous letter (via

email, of course). Plus, these past couple of years I’ve written quite a few “papers.”

I’ve never really been into writing as therapy (since it seems to make me feel more

deeply, which usually means worse). I’d rather talk with a friend, figure out what I think that

way, adding her saner perspective. But my writing is not just art ex machina; it’s personal. It’s

neither here nor there. And that’s where I like it, I think.

Documents

CREATIVE WRITING: A CURRICULUM FOR SECONDARY STUDENTS