After being a “slacker mom” (which I feel is an oxymoron) for over eleven years, I feel like I finally “get it” again. Writing about life for me has gone to the wayside while my time has become a precious commodity. With my reentry into learning, I feel refreshed and am starting to remember why I originally chose English as the focus of my Bach. Studies.
I have always loved writing, but I was anxious that it was not “great writing”. Because of this I never was one to readily share my writing openly. It never occurred to me that I could be perfectly imperfect. As a teacher, a writer, and a student I have always felt controlled by a board, an audience, or an instructor. I have felt it necessary to control both myself and my environment, and I have brought that baggage with me to my classrooms. I have come to think of it as survival.
By controlling the writing of your students you may get the gold star you require from your peers, but you are doing yourself and your class a great disservice. I can teach the mechanics and steps required to write, but not the passion in the writing.
Teach the writer not the writing… How true.


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