The Burning Issue
As the clock hands crept toward the final bell of the day, papers began to shuffle in preparation for their placement in blue clothed notebooks.
“All right class, before the bell rings here is your next writing assignment.”
The silent protest of the class could be felt through out the room, but not one sound was heard as the the teacher continued with instructions.
“Your assignment is to write a story--be creative, be detailed, and it is due on Monday.”
An inaudible moan visible only in the dissenting body language of the seventh grade students sent a message of protest to the stoic teacher. She seemed not to notice as she turned her back, impassively stating her departing words for the day, “Class dismissed.”
With those final words the 7th period dismissal bell rang. The class, in a hurry to escape the confounds of the classroom and school building, hastily put away papers, closed notebooks, and rushed out into the crowded halls heading toward the exit doors. I followed the herd of 7th, 8th, and 9th graders. Once on the bus, I sat alone in a seat close to the driver and stared out the window. The writing assignment from my English class was an unwelcome surprise. A wave of panic slowly erupted from my insides creating a warm, moist, uncomfortable feeling on the my skin’s surface which ended up in a tightly drawn knot at the center of my stomach. I had never written a story in my life. Making up a story about something that would be interesting enough for someone to read was beyond my reach. Besides, no one had ever expected me to write a story or even taught me how to do one. Where would I come up with an idea? Everything I had written to date in this class had been returned with numerous unexplained red ink marks and a C+ or B- at the top. A sudden surge of nausea began to swell within me as the bus lurked into reverse and pulled away from the bus stall.
I vividly remember that day in 1963 and wonder if the emotions of a an insecure, vulnerable, and apprehensive seventh grade girl are much like the feelings of some of my own students when an assignment is given in my classroom today. A male student I had this year comes quickly to mind. For the last three years he has failed, attended summer school, and then has been passed on to the next grade. There are a number of issues that have played a part in creating this situation, but in the classroom he basically has not completed any work and most of the time it has not even been started, as if he were just ignoring the entire assignment. Due to this lack of involvement his skills levels are severely delayed especially in the area of writing. As his sixth grade teacher, I quickly assessed he was a capable young man due to his insightful comments during classroom discussions. At mid year he was subjected to a battery of tests to rule out learning disabilities and according to district guidelines he did not qualify for any special help. Our year was a struggle. I was frustrated because I knew there was a bright kid inside him somewhere but I failed to bring him out. I did observe some minute changes. They were not profound changes but little glimpses of stirrings within his soul. One writing assignment we completed was an opinion paper. We did background work to understand opinions, how they could be effectively voiced, what commands an audience to listen to and respect an opinion different from their own, and studied editorials in the newspaper. Each student chose their topic of passion, wrote an opinion statement along with three brief supporting statements for it on a large piece of colored butcher paper and then the class had the opportunity to read the statement and respond to it thus giving the writer some feedback to consider such as, “ I agree, but have you considered...” or, “I do not agree because...” before beginning their draft. This particular student loved offering comments to his classmates and after two weeks finally wrote and posted his own opinion statement. His classmates were well into the assignment, revising, editing, and publishing. It was difficult to get them to stop and respond to him but two or three did. He went on to write a six sentence paragraph voicing his disagreement with software being used to manage the noise levels of ipods belonging to young people. There was not much substance to, it but it was the most he had written to date. The final writing assignment of the year was our country research project which included a class presentation with visual aids and a research paper. He was very excited about this and knew right away he would choose Germany, a country his dad had once lived in, to learn more about. In the end he completed a two page paper to share with the class. His self evaluation supported his interest in this assignment and although late and with several required parts missing he had a paper. His writing skills were not up to grade level standards, both organizationally and grammatically, but learning had definitely taken place. His fascination with this country was heard in his words. My dilemma was how to grade the paper, especially using the required rubric provided by the district. As an instructor/ facilitator/ evaluator there wasn’t any tiny box in which I could write in big red letters, “Look how much you learned! “ and award points for it. I wished that I had instituted a concrete method at the beginning of the year which might have accelerated this student’s proficiency with written expression, one that would have demonstrated his growth to him in a visible, timely, consistent progression. Thus both my history as a student and my own teaching experience have brought me to my burning question, “How do portfolios motiviate and encourage growth in students’ writing?”
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