How To Motivate Your Child To Write
Since my book, The Overly Honest Teacher, launched a month ago, I have been finding myself reminiscing about my journey as a writer. When did my love affair with the written word begin? When did I discover that I loved words far more than numbers, ELA class more than Math?
I’m not sure. Though, in high school, I distinctly remember when my junior-year Math teacher told me that I was “probably far better suited for another subject altogether” and put me out of my mathematical misery and into a second Literature course in its place.
Quite the chicken-egg scenario, indeed. I am inclined to think that it was when I found Math to be my scholastic nemesis that I sought to, instead, nurture my gift of gab. Knowing how my teachers saw my constant chatter as a distraction, pen-to-paper conversation was a far more successful means of communicating.
And there you have it.
No matter where it began, though, all credit for any power my pen has must go to the individuals throughout my life who coached my inkwell’s point-of-view. Who edited my work, gave me constructive and sometimes crushing feedback. Who challenged my vocabulary use, the tone and syntax employed in each narrative, and pushed me way outside of my comfort zone.
My writing teachers came in many forms—my Sixth Grade teacher, Rhett Rushing, whose vibrant propensity for storytelling enlivened the author in each of his students. My high school Yearbook teacher, Peggy Brady, who inspired me on a path to journalism in college. Elsie Floriani, Founder of Gentry Magazine, who taught me to always correct in green ink as it was less harsh to the eye than red, and who believed in me as a writer way back when I was a college intern.
There are countless others, of course, but these stand out as my literary cornerstones.
Fast forward to when I became a teacher, and suddenly, I was in the shoes of my own mentors. In my own classroom I realized-- the writer in me loved teaching the writer in my students.
Did they always love it? Like it, even?
Not really. . . at first. But, I have discovered that, over time, my inner-tenacity is not easily swayed. Whether it’s hounding an unresponsive parent, getting a refund for a delivery that never arrived, or badgering my students into narrative submission—I don’t give up easily.
When I began teaching back in 2007, I made a commitment to myself and to my future students that I would help them take command of the written word. A love for communicating via pen-to-paper. A desire to write, and re-write, and edit, and refine their work with a patience that is often diminished by our harried culture.
Growth takes time. The creative process takes time. Learning and succeeding take time. And the process by which we teach our students to write is no different.
A snail’s pace? Perhaps. Worth the languid trail? Absolutely.
My collection of fears and worries during this time of remote learning grows with every passing day.
How will my students continue to develop social skills as they remain so separated from human-to-human interaction with classmates and friends?
How will my teaching team continue to bridge the learning gap predicted by distance learning?
How will I continue to expand our mental health capacity for supporting students’ feelings of isolation?
Right there in the thick of my worry is the penultimate (pun, intended, of course):
How is the writing process of my students going to be negatively impacted by a distance learning model that is reliant upon technology?
It shouldn’t come as any surprise that digital devices, Google Docs, and blended learning platforms have both reigned supreme and saved the remote teacher’s existence over the past six months. There’s no way we could do what we’re doing as educators without the Internet gods watching over us.
But. . . the caveat to that divine intervention is that the beloved pen-to-paper learning experience so crucial to the academic growth and development of our students is left in the digitized dust.
Oof—my teacher heart breaks a little more each time that I say it.
Now, I am the first to recommend that the must-have supplies of 2020 are reliable wi-fi and a device that can sufficiently enable your child to navigate the myriad of online portals and conferencing platforms they need to receive that almighty blend of synchronous and asynchronous learning. Still, we need to make certain that we are taking advantage of the tactile resources that are equally essential to their narrative process.
A notebook, along with a cache of pens—blue and black for initial drafts combined with an alternative color for editing and revising. No whiteout. No pencil erasers. Ink on paper—with lines skipped as they are writing to make room for corrections.
Have a thesaurus handy—you can kick it old school with an actual paper-bound copy, or have it bookmarked on their device. Talk with them about why having a supply of synonyms is crucial in their ability to vary their words, expand their descriptive language, and not settle for the complacency of “good,” “fine,” and “okay.” Encourage their fervor for discovering new vernacular. Make it a competition—points and prizes earned for the family member(s) who most accurately puts into play words from a designated list, and dock points for anyone caught being basic.
Make a pact—set the expectation—that a writing task will not be done in one sitting. Increase your child’s time management skills by parceling out the components of an essay over several days. Day one is for drafting down ideas and framing out paragraphs’ focus. Day two is for crafting the introduction, maybe a few body paragraphs. By day three, the initial paper should be done and ready for revising. Day four is meant for redrafting the paper and reviewing its nuances one more time to make certain that there are no more words to be altered, no more paragraphs to craft. Finally, day five is for typing up the final draft and submitting it to the teacher, with the understanding, of course, that they, too, will have edits and suggestions.
Sounds arduous, I know, but it works. This system of really getting students to take their time developing their thoughts, ideas, words, and observations on paper will enable them, long-term, to be far stronger communicators.
Other things to keep in mind or try for those writers who are more reticent:
Limit distractions when your child is writing. No music, no screens—time to be alone and quiet with their thoughts and ideas is crucial. If they struggle with the silence, try instrumental music—even classical versions of current pop songs are a great way to fill the void.
Set a timer to increase their writing stamina. Maybe you give them a prompt for a 10-minute allotment of time. If they balk and banter on said topic, let them know that they can deviate from it, or write about something else altogether, just so long as their pen is moving until the time stops. For older students, this is a great way to practice writing under pressure, especially when it comes time to take their high school entrance exams.
Send friends and classmates letters and postcards, supporting the USPS while making writing a fun and creative outreach project.
Speaking of outreach, write holiday cards and notes that can be mailed to soldiers abroad or passed out to the guests at a local homeless shelter.
Keep a family time capsule journal that mandates that everyone in the house takes turns writing about their days, the ongoing quarantine, remote learning hijinks, etc.
So whether we return to in-person school tomorrow, next week, or next month, the more our kids write, the more they think and communicate and express themselves.
Write on, kiddos!
