How to Be the How-to

It’s Sunday night. Many teachers are joining chats on Twitter or grading papers. Some are writing lesson plans for the week or searching TPT for a worksheet or packet. And some teachers may be just feeling the Sunday blues, resisting school work and school thinking to live in the glory of the weekend a few more hours.

A big aha moment for me as a teacher and human being (we are both) was when I realized that I was the best writing teacher for my students — not graphic organizers or worksheets or packets or textbooks (certainly not anything someone else created).

Writing is a process. A process. There is not just one, and our job as writing teachers is to help students discover and nurture their own. If I make one graphic organizer, that would undermine the process each writer is developing.

To be clear, I have done that. I spent hours constructing materials to make the one-size-fits-all process. In fact, last Monday, I had such a document ready — a document I made for me, that captured my writing process. I almost shared it with my students via Google Classroom when it occurred to me that it would likely frustrate Julie because she loves to resist any authority, and it would likely confuse Sam because he does not get the tables that my brain needs. So I closed the tab and just tried to be as honest as I could about how I approach a writing task.

A how-to week

Monday: A form

“Find a good place to wrap up your Compose for 7,” I say to signal the end of our warm-up.

Every writing class begins with a quick write on any topic and in any genre or form students wish. Then, I transition to our current project as most of our work is project-based.

The project for January is a four-part blog series, a practice is writing in different text structures about a topic of expertise.

“We will be putting on hold our description essays for now so that we can have some time and perspective before revisions. Today, we will start our second post in the four-part blog series: a sequence or how-to essay. Now what this looks like will depend on your topic and process, so I am going to take you through how I would approach this if a colleague asked me to write a how-to type article for their journal or blog. Typically, I would want to know how many words so that I can write within some parameters, so let’s say 500,” I explain.

I walk over to my laptop and prepare to show my first step in writing, which is to look at examples. A search on News ELA or Scope magazine (or any magazine) requires some planning prior to class, but this can be done during a plan period.

This is what I project (below), and then I pass out a few hard copies for students to study (not read) for the text features.

“What do you notice? Let’s talk about the title?” I begin.

“Well, they all have ‘how-to’,” one writer says.

“And only the first word is capitalized, so it’s not like a book title, and there is no period, so it’s not a sentence,” another writer says.

We talk about all we notice: headings, numbering, sequence, short paragraphs that are consistent in length across each step, images that support the content.

“Okay, so we have a good sense of what the expectation is here, and we see that there is more than one way of writing a how-to essay, so I have to decide what I will write now,” I say.

The bell rings.

Tuesday: An idea

As our Compose for 7 comes to a close, I prepare to jump right into our blog series.

“For me, I have so many ideas related to my topic– publishing a book — so I will do some brainstorming and see which idea feels ‘good’ to me,” I ramble.

I draw a concept map on the whiteboard, which works as my brainstorm. I talk out the questions I asked myself as I was developing an idea for my how-to essay. (Here is a table for what I came up with during my talk.)

How to work with an editor, copyeditor, interior designer, cover designer. How to design a cover. How to start an author website. How to start an author presence on social media. How to make an audiobook. I go on like this for a few minutes.

I talked as I listed all the ideas I had, and then I just knew that the cover was the one I was going to do. I stopped because the goal is to find a topic. I did. The brainstorm worked for me.

“So, I already know what I am going to do. How many you already know?” I ask. About half the class knows just from watching my process or perhaps they knew when I introduced the project. No need for everyone to go through this step.

“Okay, so if you know, start drafting. If you don’t, try a brainstorm using some of these questions. I will come around to check in.”

I move around the room asking questions.

The bell rings.

Wednesday: A start

After concluding our Compose for 7, I open a new blog post and start my title. We use kidblog.org.

“So I know my title will be about designing a book cover, but I have no idea how many steps. I am just going to put a question mark in the title for now. How many of you know how many steps or parts there will be to your post?” I ask.

No hands.

“Right. I have no way of knowing how many either until I plan it out or start writing. I want to write to see where it goes, but you can doing an outline if you’d like first,” I say.

“Now, I don’t want to jump right into the steps. I want to have an introduction for the reader. I want to talk directly to my reader who I know wants to publish a book and wants to know how to design a book cover. I am assuming they don’t know much, and I am trying to imagine how they feel, what questions they have. So…” I trail off, already writing my post, and I talk as I type this:

I type until I have what’s on my mind dumped onto the screen, and then I stop to try to make it look like the examples we examined the day before. I color-code a few of the conventions we are working on (gerunds, conjunctive adverbs, parentheses).

“Okay, I say. Who is your reader? What do they need from you? Start there or start with the steps and go back to the intro later. Let’s draft. Do you want to plan? Plan first. Do you know how you want to write? Write? Are you lost? Let’s talk. I will come around and check in,” I say, but no one is really listening because they’re figuring out their process.

Within seconds students have their Chromebooks open and are writing their introductions or steps. A few open their notebooks to a fresh page and start numbering. One is making a timeline.

“If my topic is a person, what will this look like?” one writer asks.

“Well, how did he become famous? What steps led him to greatness or not? What were some defining moments? How can we get to know why he is important to you?” I ask questions.

He listens. He opens a new blog post and starts typing while I am still talking.

The bell rings.

Thursday: A draft

After the Compose for 7, students write. I ask questions. That’s all.

This is the day where you can start “grading” for your standards.  As you meet with students, write the topic, check their text features,  ask them to read aloud their lead, point to defined jargon, check for clarity.

The bell rings.

Friday: Open Mic

No compose for 7 today. Today is a celebration. Every Friday is a celebration. See the link above for our open mic protocol. This is the most important day of the week because students hear ideas, see what works, build relationships.

The bell rings.

A weekend and Sunday blues

I don’t grade or check school email over the weekend. I do read and give myself about an hour to write a blog post. Still, I have twinges of the Sunday blues. I enjoy time with my honey, time with my books, time to rest, time to play. The week with students is joyful, but time is elusive.

To assuage Sunday blues, my husband and I welcome the week with pizza night. We bake a $5.99 Gino’s East pizza and open a Chianti from World Market. We watch Madam Secretary. I head off to bed around nine and read until my eyes become heavy.

The alarm rings.