“I’m Done!”
You’ve been there before…three minutes into a writing assignment and students shout: “I’m done!”
They have answered the prompt, in their own mind.
They have taken as much as possible to edit their work, in their own mind.
They have used all the time they possibly can, in their own mind.
They have no more ideas to write down, in their own mind.
In reality, they aren’t done. Either there is still unanswered parts of the prompt, there are errors in their writing, they have time in class to keep working, and they just don’t think their ideas are worthy of being written down.
How do we get students to take more initiative and confidence in writing?
Writing will never be perfect; is that the issue we are facing?
Are we facing an issue of students just wanting to feel like they have finished something — like they are obediently following orders and finishing what they thought the assignment was?
Are we facing an issue of laziness?
Do they even believe they are capable of making their writing better?
Likely, it’s some combination of all of the above.
The solution?
Writing endurance.
Writing endurance is the ability to stay with one writing task for increased periods of time — much like you were probably thinking.
Like running, writing endurance is something that needs to be practiced.
You can’t run a marathon without training; many of us can’t even run a mile without training.
Yet, we stand in classes expecting students to write and write and write and write and write without the proper endurance training.
At least, I take responsibility for sometimes falling into that category; I want the students to free write for five minutes, and they can barely make it without some distraction or fatigue in the exercise.
How can we build and practice writing endurance?
Ah, another question in education that has many answers yet remains unanswerable.
Here are my thoughts — the thoughts of a new-to-the-profession English teacher working to get middle school students to sit and write.
Interesting prompts and writing assignments and thought-provokers that allow them to engage in writing in a way that matters to them.
As we know, if we have a prompt students connect to, they will write about it for as long as we let them.
You know what students love to write about? Themselves.
This is one that never fails to get writing: “Today I…”
I stole this from someone at a teaching conference about a year ago.
You give them that sentence starter along with these simple options for continuation:
“…am confused about…”
“…am concerned about…”
“…am happy about…”
You get the idea.
You know what else students love? Competition.
Think of anything you can list. They will write the longest lists just to beat a peer.
“Who can write the most rhyming words in 10 minutes?”
“Who can find the most nouns?”
“Who can write the most adjectives?”
“Who can write the best title for this picture?”
It works. Just make it match what you want to accomplish from it.
One final sentence starter, “I remember…”
It works for most things every time.
Start with a minute.
Don’t give them fifteen minutes to write and then get mad when they can’t do it.
I am telling this to myself, too, because I have done this. I assume that they are able to do this without me teaching it to them. And, well, isn’t that the problem in general in education?
We assume too much.
Start with a minute.
Then give them two.
Then three.
Then four.
Train the writing muscle to run marathons — in words.
If they ask for more time, give it to them.
I remember a time in my class this year, we were supposed to do Mad Libs from our own stories. They were going to write a story, and they were going to take out some words, put a blank, and label it with the part of speech. A partner would then fill in their story with the appropriate part of speech.
I introduced this with the prompt: tell me a silly story — any story at all.
I modeled, and I walked around the room with many different silly ideas:
“Once upon a time, there was a bucket. He didn’t like going to the beach because he was too pail.”
“Once upon a time, there was a pencil named Jeff. He was a good dude. His best friend was an eraser named Martin. Martin and Jeff were practically inseparable. Martin was the one who fixed all of Jeff’s mistakes, and, believe me, Jeff made A LOT of mistakes. Eventually, Martin got tired of fixing all of Jeff’s mistakes and eventually whittled down so much that he wasn’t happy anymore. Martin and Jeff drifted away. Jeff started fixing his own mistakes. They didn’t look pretty, but it worked. The sad fact is, they never reconnected.”
“Once upon a time, Mr. Kascak went to Target and bought a jar of peanut butter.”
The sillier the better. I just kept shouting out stories off the top of my head.
My students took my ideas (with a proper citation, of course), wrote their own ridiculous ideas, and wrote for like 20 minutes. It wasn’t quiet by any means, but they were writing.
When I said, “time to stop,” there was a mighty groan and pleas to ask for more time.
I gave it to them.
Was their a purpose with these stories? Barely.
Were they going to miss the grammar instruction of Mad Libs? Yep.
Were they engaged in a writing assignment? Yep.
Were they writing without interruption for a long period of time? Yep — almost an entire 50-minute period.
I didn’t stop them. I got some amazing stories.
It’s hard oftentimes to find the moments for this, but if they ask for more time to write, give it to them.
They are engaged in learning.
They are choosing their own educational fate.
They are practicing.
They are writing.
Even though you aren’t doing any talking, this is just as big of a teachable moment as the ones they tell you to embrace.
Let them write; don’t cut them off in the middle of whatever inspiration they may be finding.
(And, if you must stop them, tell them to write bulleted list of their ideas in the moment. They can revisit it and easily jump right back into the inspiration — hopefully. )
“Okay, can I read it?”
If you offer to read it, a student may offer a few responses — among any other infinite amount of possibilities.
“It’s not that good.” Then you immediately say, “You should try to make it better, and I will come back to it when it’s the best thing you think you can do today.”
“Really?” To which you reply, “Well, of course! I’m going to read it eventually, right? Is it ready?” Sometimes the idea of someone actually reading your writing — in front of you no less — terrifies them enough to just keep writing anyway. It shocks them sometimes. They don’t want to share something that isn’t what they deem as “okay to share.”
That if they say it isn’t ready. If it is ready…
“Okay.” This is the best answer. You can read or skim quickly and give them one thing to make better in the writing. “This is great so far; try to go back and add more another event, reread it and catch some of the simple errors, find a new place to use a semicolon.” There’s always something; as we say, writing can always get better.
Build confidence.
Circulate the room. Praise the effort. Celebrate the words that you see.
Teach them to trust their first thoughts — à la Natalie Goldberg. Their first thoughts are incredible
… Or will give space for incredible thoughts.
Say thank you to them for writing.
Ask them to share, and, when they do, be astounded with the ideas.
In written feedback, be positive; don’t just be a red pen. Recognize a golden moment — just one.
Running a marathon is a lot easier when you have someone cheering you on; writing is, too.
Write with them.
If they are writing, you should write, too. There are whole books on this method of writing instruction. *cough* Kelly Gallagher *cough*
Be a model; show them that you are trying to do the same work they are. It means something.
Later on, you can model with them the writing process; show them how wonderfully challenging it is for you.
You can also use the excuse, “Hey, I’m trying to write, too, so I need to be able to focus.” It stops side chatter — surprisingly. It stops interruptions like “I’m done.”
Also, if you are writing, you can answer “I’m done” with “I’m still writing, though, so you should be, too.”
“Keep writing.”
“But, I don’t have any more ideas.”
Yes, they do. Tell them to write down the first thing that comes to mind. That’s an idea.
“But, my first thought doesn’t relate to the topic!” It doesn’t matter. Removing that idea frees your mind to come up with better ideas.
Write them down, and they are out of your head. It works. I promise.
Students often don’t trust first thoughts. It’s a strictly-human, strictly-writing type of a problem…
I wish I could tell you that these solve the “I’m done” problem 100% of the time, but — as teachers — we recognize that any day, hour, or minute can be totally different from the last.
We adjust with what we have.
Here are some more ways you can have to help you in adjusting.
Happy Writing!
