Cut the cord already!*

Okay - so you know how there are those parents that won't let their kids do anything for themselves? "Oh, here, honey - let me tie your shoe!" and the kid's like 12 years old? Or that single bachelor with a steady job whose mom still comes over to his apartment on the weekends to straighten up, do the laundry AND restock the refrigerator? (But man, don't you want to be that guy's roommate.) 

You know ... ridiculous stuff like that.

Well, apparently teachers are having a similar "epidemic" in regards to their teaching time. Some of us find it really difficult - I'm talking emotionally and physically painful - to let go of our instruction time and let kids do something they are in charge of. I'm not talking worksheets that students solve on their own; I'm speaking of authentic student-run thinking and doing ... and in many classrooms this comes in the form of writing workshop. 

In writing workshop there is a great deal of time left for the students to be doing independent work - actually, a majority of a writing workshop should be just this! But some teachers hear the word "independent" and imagine screaming, disorganized, completely off-task paper-throwing monsters taking over their classroom. To allow students to think on their own as to what they would do could be nothing short of a small calamity, right? They have no idea how to use their time productively, right?

Let's hope both of these assumptions are wrong - otherwise the future workforce of America is in big trouble.

I liked especially what the book had to say about this: It's not that we should be concerned about what might distract students (i.e. games, being around friends, boredom), but that we should put things in place that will 

attract those students in order to prevent the prior from happening (i.e. materials to help, quiet areas, plenty of space).

Now, I'm certainly not trying to point fingers at anyone (okay ... maybe a little bit of gesturing in the direction of those parents that can't let go, but that's a whole other issue) because I'm as guilty of this "my way or the highway" as much as anyone. A great example, yet again, comes from my job as a dance teacher:

So the big end-of-the-year event at our dance studio is a dance recital put on where every class represents what they've been working on in a dance/musical theatre piece performed at the Classic Center in Athens. It's considered kind of a big deal, especially for a 3-year-old who's used to singing in the car with her mom. My students work all year to put together these pieces - usually I let them choose between a couple of songs they'd like to use, then I choreograph it, and the students perform it by themselves at the end of the year.

Well, needless to say, that "by themselves" part for the recital takes some preparation time. They have to practice remembering the steps throughout the process of learning it, and ultimately I shouldn't have to do the dance with them at all several weeks prior to the recital. But this step, which can either be a time of great excitement at showing what they know or a time of some anxiety for those who don't catch on as quickly, is a nightmare for me. I always joke, "I think I'm gonna be in this number this year," with my kids and co-workers, but in my head I'm really thinking - Could I be? Please?????

This is not that I find my students unworthy of facing this task - not at all. I'm continually impressed by what my kids bring to the table and how amazing their growth can be from September to May. There may be a little influence from my obsessive compulsive, perfectionist tendencies that makes me cringe when someone doesn't point their toe or yet again forgets the same part every time in a dance; but I've learned that if I don't let them try it on their own, that final performance can turn into catastrophe. Similar to those kids who never learn to tie their shoes. ;-) (Or in the classroom, those kids who never get to choose or have a say in what they write.)

Part of it stems from the fact that, as a performer, I just really want a chance to be onstage again and dance my 22-year-old-but-still-probably-more-like-13 heart out in a sparkly costume!

But the majority of the issue stems from me feeling that they need  me to be there as a support. Just like in the classroom, a teacher might begin to think, "These kids need me to be an example. They need me to look over their shoulder in order to succeed. They wouldn't know right from left if I wasn't there to tell them." 

Starting to sound like those crazy parents I mentioned earlier? To an extent, it is. If we can't learn to trust in these kids to think for themselves or do something independently, then they'll start to think they can't do it on their own either. But are they not the same kind of capable human beings that we are (even at a young age)? We only have one year in the classroom to influence a student for the rest of his/her life, and it's our job to help them prepare for what life will be like when the classroom is the real world and not a school building. What kind of teacher are you going to be: the kind that helps them now and ultimately harms them later, or the kind that offers direction when necessary but encourages them to figure it out for themselves? (Side note: I apologize to my 8th grade language arts teacher for putting a colon after a verb. It couldn't be helped.)

Your answer to this question might reflect a great deal on whether your writing workshop is affective or not. I hope my answer will fall close to the second kind. I hope yours does, too. So let's be brave for both ourselves and our students and "cut that cord" that ties them to needing our help every step of the way. Let's see what they have to say about things they want to talk about, not essay after essay of regurgitated facts we've handed them. 

So this week, say this to your students with little to no direction. You might be surprised what happens and the genius they come up with!

"Ready, set, WRITE!"