I Meant to Tell You before I Forget: a creative writing experience

I love teaching "I Meant to Tell You" themed poems. I first heard this lesson from a teacher during a demonstration on copychange poetry while facilitating the Ozarks Writing Project's Summer Institute. I quickly purchased my own copy of James Stevensons' children's book, I Meant to Tell You,  and modified this into a more organic and natural narrative writing opportunity for my students.

This lesson is easily adaptable for all grades levels.  I enjoy teaching it in my English IV class with seniors, particularly at the beginning of their last semester of high school. Seniors in America are often just beginning to think about "what's next?" I try to get my students to not only think about what's next, but also what is now, and what was then? I want to guide their thoughts toward the people who have helped them along the path of their first 18 years, and help place value on the relationships with family, friends, and significant adults in their lives. This lesson guides students through a series of memories and creates a platform to share their connection with someone close to them.

It varies in how I present this lesson. Sometimes I read Stevenson's book as an opener, lead the students in writing, and then follow that with previous students samples and my own poem about my grandmother. Sometimes we begin with the freewriting questions and then provide the samples afterwards. It generally takes two 48-minute classes, or one full 90-minute block.

Ms. Daugherty and Grandma Susie, Valentine's Day, 2007

With all writing, we begin by freewriting, but before we do so, I share my personal writing story and a photo of my Grandma Susie. "This is the mother of my mother" I explain to the students, "and after my mother died when I was 10, this woman became one of the single, most influential and significant women in my life." I go on to talk about the poem I wrote to her for Mother's Day, 2008, based from this writing we are about to do, and I let them know that her death in 2011 is still a painful grief for me to bear. "The death of a beloved is an amputation" wrote C.S. Lewis in A Grief Observed, and I surely still feel physical loss with the passing of this woman.

As we start, I ask students to think about and write down the names of the closest people to them, These are the people who have made an impression or an impact on them; people who, if were not in their lives, would leave a significant hole. My grandma was one of those people for me. I follow that by posting one question on the board at a time, and then offer students three-four minutes of private, quiet writing time. I also let students know that everything they write during this session is private, not to be shared with a partner, me, or the class.

Work sample from a student
during focused freewriting. Eventually
this student may choose to continue
this into a formal piece of writing.

After questions have been answered, sample poems have been shared, and students have had a few minutes to talk about writing possibilities, writing time is provided. Options are available. Students can use the copychange structure, or any genre within the narrative mode; I encourage creative non-fiction, memoir, essay, or narrative poetry. (A note about the copychange: if you're worried this doesn't produce authentic writing, keep in mind this is a strategy that provides students with the skeleton model of a poem. Mimicking others is not uncommon. Walk into any museum and notice how many art students you may find sketching portraits. Also know the copychange style is sometimes a block for me as a writer. It feels like a worksheet; that I have to get it perfect before I write it down. I share these feelings with my students and show them examples of how I overcome it by starting anywhere on the page and writing in the margins)

Be sure to write with your students. Share in the messiness of crafting together words.

Below is my I Meant to Tell You about my Grandma Susie. I had the privilege of reading this aloud to her. It was framed, placed on the mantel, and eventually read at her funeral.

Dear Grandma, 

I meant to tell you, before I forget:

I remember growing up with you always there.

I remember we used to spend time at Bull Shoals Lake

When you and Grandpa would camp at Pontiac.

You always picked the prime spot--under oak groves overlooking bluffs

And always near water hydrants and bathrooms.

We would play games after dark by lantern light.

We'd clean the checkered tablecloths from the stickiness of fresh cantaloupe and watermelon

And divide up spoons and cards, or sometimes dominoes.

And then you'd bathe us in bug spray and bury us under sleeping bags and blankets in tents.

When I was little and spent the night at your house

You'd sleep in Rick's twin bed beside me,

I asked "Did you lock the door?"

You said "I never lock the door! But tonight I did."

You told me it was because there is something precious in the house.

I looked up out the window from the bed, afraid of approaching thunderstorms.

You said, "Grandpa will take us to the basement if it gets bad."

I fell asleep snuggled with stuffed animals and you.

By morning, you'd be back in your bed next to Grandpa.

I woke up early and crawled in beside you to watch the Smurfs.

Grandpa brought us bacon and juice.

A Saturday morning breakfast in bed.

The first time I remember you visiting Gainesville

You brought strawberries in a picnic basket.

We made homemade ice cream on the back porch.

You sat on the redwood deck with Mom, and Dad, and Grandpa, and our dog, Lucky.

You talked and laughed and I brought you lightning bugs in canning jars.

I learned who you were from Susie's Flowers and gained an adult respect and love.

You gave away so much.

You hugged old friends, and made news ones before they walked out your door.

I wanted to become who you are.

I hope I am who you were.

You always said, "She teaches in Willow Springs," to your customers.

You didn't let anyone leave without them knowing my accomplishments.

But mostly, you bragged that I was Carolyn's baby and Lionel's daughter.

I remember you were there when mom was sick, I think

You knew it might be the end.

I remember, once, how the nurses wouldn't let me in to see her in intensive care.

Together, we watched the doors slowly close and heard them latch, locking me out.

And I cried into your chest.

You hugged me tight, and between kisses on my forehead whispered

"I wish I could take her place."

I never knew a love so strong.

One day at the flower shop after a busy Valentine's Day

You hugged me tight.

You told me you couldn't have done it without me.

It was a while ago...

But I remember growing up with you always being there.

And all the things we did together.

I meant to tell you that. 
Love, Casey
Mother's Day 2008

Six Roles for the Teacher, Five Roles for the Student: A Gentle Reminder from My Syllabus

It's DECEMBER! And that famous Seuss quote gets stuck in my head, repeat on "my goodness how the time as flewn." Because it has. The first day of school floor wax is dull, scratched and stripping away. Desks are in disarray. Pencils aren't sharpened. In fact, the pencil cup has only a battling few bruised #2's, lead broken, erasers peeled off. The end-of-semester weariness isn't just apparent in the stamina of our school supplies. Students straggle in late. Teachers make extra pots of coffee. Administration gets snippy about paper usage. IT'S TIME FOR A BREAK!

And then my fear comes alive. Break!? Wait. What?! Only 10 classes left?! No. It can't be. I haven't covered this? And I haven't covered that! Am I even on track or will we fall flat? (Sorry Seuss fans.) And now I feel it. I've been trapped in the rat race of daily classroom chores: planning on-the-spot mini-lessons and detailing clear structure for better management. I have lost focus on the overarching answer to the goal "what are we learning?"

We've just reached a milestone in English IV: submitting our final Senior Project papers for grading.  As their teacher, with this deadline comes a lot of thinking ahead. Yet it's so important to think back. Are we on track? Have we met learning goals? While reading submission letters for their papers, many students noted how helpful going through an extended writing process was. These students have never committed a full quarter solely on writing one piece--moving between drafts, conferencing with each other, writing peer reviews...over and over again. And while consciously I worry about quote-getting to all the curriculum-end quote, my intuition while reading their letters, and my understanding of the roles we play in the classroom, make me fully aware that we are, indeed, on track.

While together my students and I write classroom protocols and expectations the first week of school, I still (must be the teacher in me) list out in my syllabus (be it they are buried on page 3)
the roles I expect as the lead learner in the classroom. A commitment to not only what I promise my students, but also what I seek from them. 

• Ms. Daugherty’s role: 
• I will…
• provide you with deeper insight to improve your growth as a student; 
• help you diagnose and respond to your own learning needs;
• help you write learning targets and goals;
• lead the class in creating common scoring guides;
• offer guided instruction in class to help you improve on future assignments;
• and provide descriptive feedback to you through written notes and conversation.
• Student’s role: 
• I expect you…
• to self-assess your work;
• to track your own progress through detailed records;
• to contribute to setting goals;
• to act upon feedback and assessment results to do better next time;
• and to believe that you can achieve a high level of personal learning. 

And while we may have rushed through our poetry unit, and may not have gotten to Macbeth, these gentle reminders of our roles in class exceed the boundaries of content. These roles emphasize to me that learning doesn't matter if we cannot stop, respond and react to what has been accomplished, which in turn guides what we accomplish next. Isn't this the essence of learning? With that focus in mind, for the last 15 minutes of our final this semester, I plan to stop with my students, review our list of roles, and reflect on just how far we've come. Who knows what possibilities may be next.

Student Blogs re:SpeakLoudly

Hi, Writers!

If you are a student blogger and you've written about banned books, the Wesley Scroggins editorial, Speak, Slaughterhouse Five, or Twenty Boy Summer, would you post a link to your blog in the comments below. My students are wanting to read the words of their peers from around the country on this topic.

Thanks!

Here's Teens Read and Write
and
The Juniper Breeze

The Promise of Cooperative Learning

One of my students wrote a semi-scathing piece about her teachers starting cooperative learning in their classes this past week. While she read it aloud, she kept looking at me sheepishly, unsure if she was going to get in trouble for chastising her teachers' new approach to learning and how much she despised this new found "cooperative learning." At first her peers acted the same way--looking at me unafraid to show their emotions on the subject, but by the time she finished her satirical piece and showed the drawing that accompanied her writing (administration and faculty with angel wings hovering over the entire school of students leading a Kagan-inspired Rally Robin) the entire class erupted in laughter losing their fear of any repercussion.

I laughed my way through this, too, mostly because I understand this students point of view. (Not to mention she has every right to her own opinion and expression of what's happening in her own learning life.) All of a sudden she's forced to partner and share her work in classes where she was largely doing her work individually. While I'm a big believer in cooperative learning and utilize it in my classroom daily, I realized long ago that 12th graders appreciate guiding words such as "find your partner" and "let's take 15-seconds to think first" over "Stand up, Hand up, Pair up" and "We're going to do a 'Think, Pair, Share' now."

In a strange sort of way, all of a sudden my class has lost validity in the eyes of my 12th graders. It kind of hurts. We read aloud our first poetry this week and afterwards I asked the students to offer up *snaps* to the poet. Where did I first learn this informal way to show quick, unobtrusive appreciation and feedback? The Greater Kansas City Writing Project-2002. Instead though, I was accused of being Kagan-crazed and brainwashed. "What?" I thought to myself,"Does he even have the copyright on "snaps after poetry readings?" Suddenly, my normal routines of collaborative and cooperative learning have been demeaned by the entire school going through Kagan training. "Oh no, don't hit me with another cooperative learning technique" the kids think to themselves. This new student perspective has thrown a kink into my once authentic and honest approaches to collaboration. Now, partnering up to share our work feels forced and not genuine, whereas before the students just thought my class was "different" than others and were inclined to open and share and learn from each other. I was intentionally cultivating a group of learners who were just beginning to learn that we do not learn in isolation.

Incorporating this Kaganesque CL into my classroom is not hard. I am 100% for cooperative learning. In fact, it's only a simple change in the way I word directions to the students. I was explicitly informed there's a "right" way to do things and that "we all need to be on the same page." I really didn't think this would be such a big deal. But to my kids right now, it seems to be. At the beginning of the school year, they felt like I was treating them as adults and with respect, but now, many feel like their knowledge and expertise as learners has been demoted by several grades. Where we once simply found a partner, we now "Stand up, Hand up, Pair Up." Where once we decided our own roles in our learning groups and defined them together, we now have "Sultan of Silly" and "Synergy Guru." Where we once had Gallery Walks (or sometimes Gallery Passes) that began with student-led discussion of what it means to walk through a gallery observing, thinking, reflecting, and responding, we now have "Carousel Feedback." I can't say I like the name changes either. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong if I don't say it the Kagan way. But for the sake of my job and for being part of and supporting the community of teachers in my school, I will do what's expected as we dive into learning what Kagan CL brings to the classroom.

The bottom line, I guess, is that Kagan provides answers. Answers for teachers who are demoralized and deflated from media and political ridicule. There's so much pressure on teachers for their students to perform well on standardized tests that teachers will largely follow any for-profit company who guarantees lowering the achievement gap and raising standardized test scores. Being told what to do and how to do it to get certain results is so much easier than questioning, learning, exploring, discovering, and reflecting on process. Kagan, in a nicely organized binder and a guidebook to accompany it, provides answers.

I guess this is why I love working with the writing project so much. I'm never given answers. And I never give them. I'm never given lectures on "what the research says." And again, I never give them. Instead, I'm valued as a professional educator and expected to be a curious learner. I'm encouraged to question and research my classroom practices, and then share my expertise and knowledge in conversation with other professionals. It is this tapping into each other's faucets that leads to greater teaching and learning. My biggest breakthrough in learning cooperative learning and collaboration came this summer at NWP's Recruiting for Diversity Institute. I realized that in order to build trust and community, it doesn't really take a coordinated effort in the balloon bounce or the untwisting of the human pretzel. Instead, it's the reading together, the writing together, the working together, and the sharing together that fully engages us as learners and motivates us to invest in each other.

(Author's note: Do I need to add that I think Kagan structures are solid and do provide opportunity for classroom conversation and learning? I hope not. If you got from this post that I do not believe in cooperative learning structures, then you're taking away the wrong thing. This post is not about belittling Dr. Kagan's years of research and expertise. I believe in them and have used them for years. But through the years, I've simply adapted versions that work well with my students. I don't believe Kagan structures are the "end-all-be-all" of education. There is never one right way to teach and learn. This post was simply inspired by a students reaction to her first experiences as a learner in many Kagan-inspired classrooms this past week.)

Who Inspired(s) Me to Write...

My 2nd grade teacher let me write a short story, "The Dragon in My Garden", and sent a letter home to my parents about me being a writer. I was hooked. I'm 30 years now into diaries, journals, and blog posts.

Writing gave me a new insight to its value when I started reading my mother's daily journal entries a few years ago, (she passed away 25 years earlier) and I noticed my own writing began to change with it. So did my motivation to write.

Although I never felt stifled as a writer during high school and college, I'm not sure I was ever able to explore my writing thoroughly, and I know I wasn't able to develop myself as a writing teacher until I learned to understand my own processing at the Greater Kansas City Writing Project in 2002.

There's an article floating around on Twitter right now from the New York Times about re-connecting with teachers on Facebook. I can't visit with my 2nd grade teacher anymore, but I'm blessed with teaching during the age of Facebook and just last week a former student posted a compliment on my wall to how I inspired her writing. Fortunately, I get to say back, "it was you, and all your classmates, who continue to inspire my own writing and being a writing teacher." This constant connection and re-connection continues to pull me toward writing and its value in my life.

I Write. Therefore I Tweet

Melissa led us in freewriting after reading Terry Tempest Williams excerpt "Why I Write" from Creative Non-fiction. I write because I am meant for expression. I am meant to share, to talk, to write. Therefore...I tweet.

Today is the second day of the Summer Institute. Last night I went home at 5:00 p.m. This is the first year, in four years of facilitating, that I didn't feel like there was "something pressing to do for the next day." It felt good to go home to my porch, enjoy the outdoors of the Ozarks for a little bit. Take a walk with my dog, grab dinner with a friend, and then, once I got home, I felt inspired to read, to write, to look at our schedule and see what's ahead. Instead though, I tweeted.

This is the first summer institute with live tweeting for the OWP, and it's been fun to experience. Actually, it's my first SI with live tweeting anywhere. I've been tweeting since December of '08, but didn't actively follow my Twitter account until October of '09. This opened up a whole new world of professional learning for me. Twitter is my space, and I'm away from my students. I was a Facebook teacher for many years, and still am, but Twitter has become my place for learning, and reading, and getting a grasp on what's happening in the world around me. Twitter is a place where I can follow people with the same like-mind. I read what they are writing, I read what articles online they are sharing. They read about the weather in Colorado and what's for dinner in Kansas City. But, it's more than just that. The social network aspect isn't what keeps me tweeting. In fact, I find myself deleting tweeters who only update about their social lives. Mostly, it's because I can find those updates on Facebook. However, tweeting an online article about paperless classrooms, or writing instruction, or technology in the classroom, or grading without letter grades, those are the articles that keep me going back to twitter. I can search anything with the hashtags, but I admit my tags for the last few months have only been writing project related as this is my professional learning community and I have a deep trust and commitment to those who have participated in writing project events around the nation.

And...time's up...more to come tomorrow I'm sure.

Crazy For You...by Madonna

I've been reading the latest of Edutopia. The entire December issue follows a theme called The Collaboration Age: Teachers Jump Into the We Generation. I couldn't help but snag it from the table in the teachers lounge. These types of magazines are always laying around in the lounge and I'm pretty sure very few people thumb through them.

I can't concentrate because it Cherish by Madonna is on. The kids want Akon, but I could only find 30 second segments of his songs.

Brittney is asleep today. We are all totally wiped out this week, the first week back. I wonder if she had to work last night. She woke up briefly, looked at me, and then put her head back down and pulled her hoodie over her neck and ears. She's cold, or she hates Madonna. Kayla is writing in her journal. Kyle is doing a pretty good job of writing for just recently starting the class; Blake's just looking at his paper...he's written about a half page. Matt is writing, then pausing, then writing some more. He sits quietly and unnoticed. Robert pretends to write, or maybe he's drawing today. Cali is here for the first time since Thanksgiving. Kayla writes. She used to have a fabulous journal but she is writing in a composition notebook now. I wonder where her pretty journal went. Shelby writes. She writes all the time. She works on things in here and she never seems to run out of things to write. I think her fluency has definitely improved. Morgan is writing as well, and her and Shelby are sharing Shelby's ipod. Samm is writing tucked away in the corner. The layout of this class amuses me. They all sit as close together as possible even though we have empty tables for them to spread out. It took a while for Cheyenne to get started, but she's . Jessica is stretching. Garrett and Bobby are writing s l o w l y. They don't write much. Fetty goes in spurts. We are listening to Vogue now.I can't stop singing in my mind.

Generation We

A while back I posted a video about Generation We. This video is from a website that builds on the fact that this generation is trying to renew a hope in their own humanity and in the world.

As a teacher, I hold this hope that the world will be a better place. Or maybe I should say it's different...not better. It's different than any other place I've ever been in my life. But that's okay. My story is not their story. My story is filled with summer days at the lake and a walk to the Pontaic Cove Marina for a Mtn. Dew and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. But their story...it's different.

Here's a microcosm of the story of this generation.

Right now I'm sitting in a room with ten 17-19 year-old students. (This is perfect because I can actually do the math on this one.) :)

10 students
8 have jobs
6 have cars
All 6 make their vehicle and insurance payments.
9 have cell phones
6 pay for cell phones
2 pay their parents a monthly stipend.
8 have daily chores.
3 live with both their mother and father.
1 doesn't live with either parent

Aside from hauling hay in the summer and working in hog and milk barns, I can't name 10 people from my high school who worked during the school year of 1989-90. I'm not sure about vehicle payments or car insurance. None of us had cell phones. One of my friends didn't live with both his mom and dad.

I get frustrated as a teacher when I hear comments about how worthless and useless Generation We is. That "they don't know what hard work is," or "they haven't had to suffer through war or depression."

I don't know what the changes mean in our society, but I still hold to the thought that this is, by far, the greatest time in the history of education to be a teacher. There have not been any greater changes than over the last two decades...and to be a part of such greatness is inspiring.

Where I'm From

I’ve heard it been said that if you don’t know where you’re from, you’ll have a hard time knowing where you are going. This very idea helps us to think about our roots as we begin to know our place in the world. A few years ago I was introduced to George Ella Lyons poem called “Where I’m From.” I loved this poem and began writing my own “Where I’m From” each year. Today, I use it as a writing assignment for my students and hope it lends itself to a wonderful exploration of their past and sense of belonging in this world.

Click here to listen to George Ella Lyon read "Where I'm From."


My Where I'm From

I am from metal lunch boxes,
From Estee Lauder perfume on the bathroom counter, and tacos for dinner.

I am from the back yard swing set
A splintered redwood deck
A dusty ball court
A place to wash cars in the summer.

I am from heart-leaf philodendrons watered every Saturday,
The old English rose bush whose blooms clung to the bay window peeking inside.

I am from breakfast on Christmas morning.
And being resourceful.

From Susanne Mae and Geraldine and Grandpa J.
I am from workaholics and gardeners
From family men and weekends at the lake.
From “never say I told you so” and “kiss me goodnight.”

I am from church—twice on Sunday,
and Wednesday night bible class.
From Jordan’s Stormy Banks and Canaan’s Land.
I am from Brush Arbor singing and Dinner on the Grounds.
From Springfield, Missouri and Pennsylvania Dutch.

I am from homemade ice cream and Granny’s “Half as Much” pie crust.
Red-eye gravy and Springfield Cashew Chicken.

From dad, skipping class to shoot buckets,
and mom, changing into mini-skirts at the bus stop,
and the two of them stealing kisses in the ’55 Chevy two-door hardtop.

I am from the picture box, bursting at the seams,
old and sturdy,
that makes us laugh on Christmas eve.

Sisters, 1976

This is a picture of us—
Nine and three before
Death knocked
On our door and took away
The one focused on us.

This is us bonding in love. And comfort.
Understanding.
Tolerance.
And Patience.
Before we knew we’d need it.

This is life before we were
Defined by careers,
Computer identities,
Love—and love lost.

This is where we belong—
side by side.
Playful—
On a new sled in the middle of winter.

This is a picture of us.
Together.
In the harshest of elements—
Smiling.