Mariana, Mariana, and myself (my teacher partner) never doubted its value. We would share our 100-word memoir with our students in a thorough prewriting, editing, and revision process. This is what Kelly and Penny do every 180 Days. We need more reasons. No. It turns out that this genre has a lot of added value. (My guess is that Kelly and Penny knew the answer, but did not have enough space in their book to discuss it.
These are the beliefs and values we discovered through our 100-word experience. Most of these were only after the fact.
1. Even reluctant writers feel accomplished when they write short pieces. We all see those writers who take longer to write than others. They turned in their notebooks with a complete draft of their work within the deadline. Even though the drafts in their notebooks were not complete, every student submitted a completed draft. It’s possible to establish a tone that welcomes students rather than exclusions by a feeling of being able to do the tasks in class.
2. Revision can be valuable even when it is not palatable. We all know the frustration of reading student drafts which only reach the core of the text at the end. Out of 83 students, 100 words was the longest memoir I have ever seen. They were willing to rewrite, but they also wanted to. It was not enough to fix …?”. Questions ranged from: “Should I first rewrite the entire thing in my notebook?”
3. Writing becomes easier for students to comprehend their own writing processes. These questions led to a discussion in class about the differences between satisfying teacher requirements and creating good writing. Even my most elementary students (sophomores), can see the value in knowing oneself as a writer. Is it more convenient to have the draft rewritten by hand? Will you “revise” the draft as you type it into a document? It was an important trust builder in this crucial early part of the year when they offered to respect them as true writers. Writing conferences are still a foreign concept to most students. When they asked me to have a one-on-1 discussion about whether a second draft was needed if they were doing a complete rewrite, we had a great conversation about my process. I was able to mention that we were at a writing conference. It’s not overly optimistic, and no one has ever accused of me of this stance. I can imagine any trepidation that a student may have about attending a conference for writers was dispelled. I also made sure that other writers who were conspicuously keeping their heads in notebooks heard it.
4. Writing can be beneficial for students if they learn the art, DELETING. Kristin Jeschke has written thoughtfully about teaching students how to be incisive. While our 100-word memoirs don’t allow us to cut paper with literal precision (or is it… hmm), we can still instil this habit by incision with a small piece. Amy Burvall talks with Dan Ryder about “creative limitations” in Intention. This phrase is a great alternative to language that is resembling “criteria”, “learning targets”, or any other similar terminology (and it can also be used to satisfy paperwork regarding performance evaluations). Students were able to see “criteria”, at best, as an inspiring challenge, and at worst, as less arbitrary than assignments “criteria”. Mariana pointed out that college seniors have to treat the logorhea in their essays. This 100-word “creative restriction” helps them get practice.
My post-lesson reflection phase usually consists of a list of all the things I should have done. It’s refreshing to find value in reflection that is beyond our expectations. It’s a great affirmation to know that our practice acknowledges beliefs we didn’t even see.
I am not going to relinquish my private, critical post practice litanies. The 100-word memoir made me realize how much I was a reproachful teacher. For at most, a single day.
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