Writing Is Telling A Good Story - English @ The Academy Part I

The Art of Telling a Story

Writing Is Telling A Good Story - English @ The Academy Part I

 

Here at SOAR and The Academy, if students don't come in with stories to tell, they'll surely pick up some tales along the way. As I eluded to on my last Facebook post, this past holiday season, I decided to take a long hard look at why I always have loved writing so much, while so many of my students of the past 20 years detest it. One of the key ideas I honed in on was this fact, and I had been doing it myself more less for years, that writing is no longer taught, in large part in schools, but rather it is assigned, and assessed.

I've long contended that in an age of accountability where the standardized test is king, what is lost in school is a passion for teaching and a love for learning, if one is not extremely diligent to make certain that doesn't happen.

I decided to approach writing from a whole new angle coming back to the Academy for the Spring semester. As most of you know, I have been Academic Director for a little over two years. Most of the processes and procedures, academically speaking, were in place before I got here. Over the past two years, I have been evaluating, tweaking, adjusting, and revamping where necessary, so that our students get the most out of their education, and parents and families get the most bang for their buck.

The first things to go were what had become known as "reading logs" or the modern version of what we knew as kids as the book report. This was a large part of the English curriculum for a time. I just knew there were better things students could be doing with their time. Students still read independent novels, and they participate in " book share", where they actually get to discuss their books, or aspects of their books with their classmates, whereby they have the opportunity to showcase a book that they really enjoy, and expose it to other potential readers at the same time. The message: Reading is fun, sharing what you read is fun. Written reflection on a book can be useful, but not simply for the purpose of a grade in the grade book.

The second thing to go were a letter home per week. This, initially, I got a little resistance on, and I could understand why. Talk of taking away a staple in The Academy's curriculum that allowed children and their families to connect was a sensitive topic. Students still would write a letter home while out on expedition, but to take the time and the energy to write a letter a week, when there were so many other things to write, I simply felt was not the best use of a student's time in English. It's not that I'm not sentimental. It's not that I am heartless and don't want kids writing to their folks. It's just that, in an age of email, skype, blogging and Facebook, I felt our English time could be better spent learning about writing, and enjoying the process, rather than simply completing assignments.

Again, in an age of accountability, where grades in the grade book are a measure of a teacher's success, I was taking a chance, giving students the opportunity and the structure to " play around with writing" and to " practice", when the result would most likely be, not only no immediate grades in the grade book, but no immediate products to show to parents. When parents don't see their kids every day, work products are the only hard evidence they have that learning is taking place, and progress is occurring. I was, and am asking for their trust.

So, now that I've decided what we're not doing, it was time to plan what we would be doing. I knew from the start, that we would be focusing on at least the 4 genres of writing including narrative, expository, persuasive, and compare/contrast writing, for those were the most common, and most used genres in schools today.

But where to start? I started where I usually start in the 21st century when I don't know where to start. I googled it. I began with the narrative. Narrative writing means, essentially, writing that tells a story. It might be fiction, or non-fiction. The main feature of narrative writing is that it spans time and has a plot--something happens that keeps readers reading to see what's next. A narrative often (but certainly not always) is written in chronological order. Stories can be about our own experiences, other people ( biographies) , or even about stories you have read(summaries). The final point I read about a narrative is that it makes its point by telling a story – In the end it has a morale or a lesson learned.

This was the perfect place to start. As I had mentioned earlier, most students come to SOAR with their share of stories. If they are lacking any tales to tell, the adventures they have while at SOAR, most certainly provide them plenty of material for  some great stories. Ask them about their Expedition Writer's Notebooks.

Don't misunderstand. Many of the students we have at The Academy this semester, actually do enjoy writing. So the task was how to grow their skills as writers, while at the same time turning some students on to it who didn't like to write.

We began by talking about writing, and what students liked and disliked about writing. Almost unanimously, students stated that they enjoyed writing on self- selected topics, but found it more challenging to write on topics assigned by teachers. Knowing full well, that teachers have always assigned writing, and always would assign writing, and not wanting to burst their bubble, I knew from experience, that there is a way that creative writers can take an otherwise mundane topic, and make it their own. I've done it successfully, and had fun doing it. College professors actually enjoyed reading it. We weren't there yet.

We took grading out of the picture. Writing is not about a grade. I asked students to give examples of writing that they enjoyed. We then segued  into the narrative, or the art of telling a story. I asked students to think of their own territory, and what the word meant to them. They came up with adjectives like comfortable, safe, familiar, fun. Then I asked them to make a list in their expedition writer's notebooks of at least 10 personal writing territories, or things that were familiar to them, that would make for a good story. From there, I took another play from Kelly Gallagher's playbook http://kellygallagher.org/ where I used a funnelling graphic organizer strategy to take a topic of my own, and funnel down from general to specific. I then modelled an oral story tell to emphasize that story telling can be fun. This, is the story I told. I actually wrote it slightly different than I told it, intentionally, to model different ways to lead into a story.

 

You Aren't As Smart as You Think You Are ( at 16) and How I Learned That fact.

"Thumpbmpbmpbmpbmp. Crash!" The car stopped instantly. It had been like being abruptly woken out of a dream. The moments prior, everything had been, fine, great in fact. Then it was if everything was moving in slow motion as the cars tires hit the ruts in that old dirt road, and everything was spinning, spinning, spinning. The last thing that went through my mind before we hit were my mom's words, " Please Michael, be careful with my car, it's the only one I have... it's the only one I have... It's the only one I have..." I never thought I would become a statistic.

It was a crisp winter's evening in New York, the state, not the city. The year was around  1985. Life was good. No, Life was great. I had my driver's license for a week now. I was on top of the world. Nothing was going to stop me now. Tonight was the high school holiday band concert, and I was headed to school to meet some friends, and enjoy  some time out.

"Mom. Can I borrow your car tonight to drive to the concert?" I eagerly asked my mom, in the hopes that she would say yes.

Driving, was something I had looked forward to since I was a toddler sitting on the lap of my grandfather as he let me steer his car. Now, I had the power and the privelege within my grasp. All I needed were the keys.

Reluctantly my mother conceded. She knew this moment was inevitable. In retrospect, now, as a parent myself, I can only imagine she hoped for the best, but feared the worst. She said to me,

"Michael. Please be careful with my car. It's the only one I've got."

I don't remember the exact conversation, for it was over 25 years ago now, but I am certain I agreed to comply with he one request.  Overall I was a pretty responsible teenager. I was just glad to have the keys to that little Dodge Colt. With 4 on the floor, it was allo the power a kid like me needed.

I made it to the concert without incident, parked the car, and enjoyed an evening of music and other high school festivities. I truly think I was more excited about the trip, than I was the destination.

After the concert, I walked through the band room, and saw some friends of mine.

" Anybody want a ride?" I inquired with a big smile on my face, jingling the keys in my left hand.

A fellow student and friend of mine, Dave piped up, " Yeah sure. I'll take a ride."

After doing a second check to be certain there wasn't anyone else who would be stranded, in the absence of my services and excellent driving skills, we headed to the parking lot. Dave and I got into the car, and we were off.

What is it about being 16 and driving a car that is so exciting and so appealing? I can relate to it to this day, but I am uncertain if I understand what it was. I am also uncertain as to what it was that  made me decide to take the scenic route home that night. It was a straight shot down route 35 from the school into town, to where Dave lived. In 20 minutes, we'd be there. That would be two easy. I had the car, and I had the night. I wasn't going to give that up that soon.

We took a left turn onto Reservior Road  which took us over a huge bridge which was the dam for the town's water supply. It certainly was more scenic, and allowed me to stay behind the wheel a little bit longer that evening.

Like many teens, I felt invincible. As we made a sharp right hand turn where the pavement turned to dirt, I took it too fast, intentionally, and let the tail of the small car dishtail behind me. This was fun. I don't remember the conversation that took place between Dave and I, or even if we talked. As I downshifted and picked up speed, I decided to play with the steering wheel a bit, rocking the car to and fro on the road. Heck this was fun. I don't even remember thinking about the fact that this could be dangerous. It simply didn't occur to me, until about 2 minutes later, when it was over.

Rocking the wheel, mid rock, I hit some ruts in the old dirt road:

"Thumpbmpbmpbmpbmp." Then, in an instant I saw it happen. It was all too fast to react, yet it seemed like it was happening in slow motion, the rear of the car fishtailed out from behind me, and pointed the car toward the embankment on the side of the road, and I hit!

The car stopped in an instant, and the interior lights flickered as if they were going to go out. I checked myself. I checked Dave. All in one piece. We didn't hit that hard. it was just a bump. This was going to be all right.

Dave and I exited the vehicle to assess the situation. Note, I didn't say damage, because I was certain this was just a scratch. As I moved to the front of the car, by the light of the headlights I could see the front tires spinning. They had completely left the ground, and the bumper was hanging on an embankment.

Luckily for me, it was a compact car. All I would have to do is get under the bumper and rock the car off the embankment. Easy. Well I underestimated the weight of a compact car, and overestimated  how much I had been working out. That car wasn't going anywhere.

This is when I learned, just by chance, Dave worked part- time for the local tow-truck company. God hadn't completely foresaken me. Actually it had nothing to do with GOD. This one was all my fault.

We hiked into town, 30 minutes of what would have been a 3 minute drive for Dave to get the tow truck. As I saw Dave pull away from my house with mom's car in tow on the back, those words, again echoed in my ears, " Michael. Please be careful with my car. It's the only one I have..." I knew it was time to pay the piper, as I climbed the stairs to my mother's bedroom where she ususally read before going to bed. I entered the room. What follows is not an exact transcript of our conversation, as I don't remember exactly what was said. Remember, this was 25 years ago.

"Mom. You're not going to believe this. I am so sorry... I was driving Dave home and everything was fine..."

And then it hit me like bolt of lightening.

" And a deer jumped out infront of the car, and I had to perform and evasive maneuvre to avoid the deer and when drove up on an embankment!!!!"

I don't remember the rest of the conversation, or exactly how much trouble I had gotten in, but I do remember, that it was the deer's fault and not mine.

One thing I neglected to mention in the story so far, was that I was always somewhat of a "mama's boy", and if there was one person in the world I couldn't lie to, it was my mother. My story lasted about 10 minutes until the weight of the guilt of lying to my mother was too heavy to bear, and I came clean. I was glad I did.

$3000.00 later the body shop was able to straighten the frame of the car which I had bent when I hit the embankment.

I learned a few lessons that night. One being, lying gets you nowhere, and lying to your parents, even if you can do it, isn't a good idea. Second, you're not as good a driver as you think you are when you've had your license for a week. Last, with the statistics on teen drivers as they are, I am lucky to not be dead. I could have gone over the side of the bridge.

Lessons I plan to teach with this story:

Different ways to lead into a story. In this case, I dropped the reader into the middle of the action, rather than a simply chronological tell, like I told it to the class.

Use of Dialogue to make a story more interesting.

Ending a narrative with a morale of lessons learned.

The ideas that this is just one draft of this story, and that I may choose to rewrite it, revise it, and make changes to it to make it better, Driving home that writing is a process that can be fun, and it doesn't simply have to be a task, to get done.

We'll pick up on other literary elements within the context of the story, and through the student's own writings.

 

The main points I aim to drive home with our writing this semester:

A) It doesn't have to be " work"

B) It can be fun.

C) There is no right or wrong

D) We can always improve our writing. It doesn't have to be perfect.

 

Once we've mastered these points, there is no limit to what we can accomplish.

 

Look for your kids 1st narratives in the blogs very shortly.