Last week I time traveled, and it didn’t require a DeLorean with its flux capacitor or a Doctor Who tardis to carry me back to the “good old days” of teaching. Nope, it happened quietly as I pulled the old magazine pile out of the cupboard and found my abandoned buckets filled with colored markers, scissors, and glue sticks. I unearthed all these old time-y teaching supplies as part of the kick-off for my reintroduction of Writer’s Notebooks. My 6th and 7th grade writers were personalizing the composition notebooks I had ordered through a DonorsChoose project. It was the first time in over five years that I’d introduced this practice of encouraging students’ writing fluency through the inclusion of time in class for creative writing. I had abandoned Writer’s Notebooks when my former principal cut our ELA block in half. (Yep, I’m still bitter about that one.) In my trimming of ELA instruction, I had reluctantly let the use of Writer’s Notebooks fall to the wayside. A mistake. I knew it even when I was making the decision. But, you see, it’s a practice that doesn’t have data to support it’s efficacy. Simply put, it’s not on the test.
But this year is different. This year I roll into my 30th year in the classroom, and I’m trusting myself now. I’m an expert, darn it. I do know what’s good for young people when it comes to their growth as readers and writers, so this year I followed my OWN best practice. I do have anecdotal data, after all. When I run into former students, many will say some form of this, “Mrs. Laaksonen, you’re never gonna believe it! Guess what I still have? My Writer’s Notebook!” These bright stars beam at me and I see that 11-year-old who couldn’t wait to write all the stories from his/her imagination. Couldn’t wait to make a list of their pets for a poetry writing project. Rushed to me at the end of a class period and thrust a notebook in my face saying, “Quick, read this.” So, yeah, I wanted that back. For them and for myself.
As the classroom buzzed with the excitement that any creative endeavor seems to bring, I felt something in my being I hadn’t felt in a long time within the walls of my classroom. I felt light, joy-filled, and free to share my very best–my own talents– with these sweet kids. It was like my early days in teaching when I designed my own curriculum, incorporating engaging reading and writing experiences rather than moving lock step with a pacing guide. I was reminded of the fun, because that’s what has been lost in all this frevor. Teaching is fun. Working with kids is fun. Sharing my passion for writing is fun. Fun is not a bad word and I refuse to let anyone patronize educators by taking us less seriously because we honor and look for the joy in learning. We work with children, after all, and their cognitive growth is enhanced when they feel safe, loved, and included. And when they are having fun. Teachers are pure magic when they are making the learning fun.
There were a lot of scraps of paper on the floor that afternoon. It was messier than usual and louder, too. Students were tickled at the thought of finding pictures in old magazines to modge-podge on the covers of their notebooks. They seemed to really take a liking to this crazy old-fashioned concept of clip-art. I marveled at their excitement over such a basic form of collage and thrilled at the way all of it made me feel. Such happiness coursed through me when many asked breathlessly, “Can I start writing now?” I felt the tears well up behind my eyes-tears of joy. It made me feel happy and young. It made me feel like my old teaching self. I soaked it up, knowing moments are fleeting.
And it was a beautiful moment.
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