Talking Like a Writer

One method with which I have found great success involves demonstrating to a student how writing and speaking are two sides of the same coin. Too often, students find themselves flummoxed by the written word. They know writing is supposed to sound a certain way: that it should flow, that it should transition, that it should guide the reader. But the actual mechanics of writing are elusive and instead the student finds themselves punctuating out boring, disjointed sentences.

I encourage the student to think of writing as a different form of talking. When we speak to one another, we do not do so like robots reciting a series of single numbers: "I went to the store. I picked up the milk. I went to the car. I drove the car home. I arrived here. I met you."

Instead, most of us naturally add fluidity to our conversations. In fact, we tend to speak in small to medium sized paragraphs quite instinctively and add artful transitions between our phrases. The worst writers can often speak in a fashion which, if put to paper, would make them appear to be above average wordsmiths. The problem lies in bridging that gap between the spoken word and the written one.

In order to facilitate that learning, I like to take the outline for a paper (if you have not put together an outline yet, then you are not ready for this step of the process!) and have the student talk to me about the topics as if we were having a conversation. I listen to what they are saying as well as how they naturally transition between the topics, and I restructure their spoken words into acceptable written form. Like follows:

Student

Well, every apple starts as a seed. When you want it to grow, you plant it in the ground but you have to be careful to plant it in fertile soil--apple trees don't grow easy. Then, the rain and soil will help it to germinate, get roots, and then sprout like a tiny plant. If you protect it--because most plants die before becoming trees so you have to make sure that doesn't happen--then after a long time you will get a small sapling. That sapling eventually grows into a full tree.  That tree creates more apples and the whole process starts over.

Liam

Great. Let's look at how to translate that into writing.

"Well, every apple starts as a seed" can be simply "Every apple starts as a seed". Then, "Place the seed in fertile soil in order to begin the growing process." Then, "Given time and provided you protect it, the rain and soil will help the seed to germinate and sprout like a tiny plant. That tiny plant will become a sapling, which eventually becomes a full tree." Finally, you mention a "process" which is another word for cycle, so let's say,  "The cycle is complete when a new apple grows from the new tree." 

Now, often, I do this in much smaller chunks, but the process always remains the same. You get a spoken version of the soon-to-be written words and help the student realize that their ability to speak--and how they think about speaking--is their ability to write. Given enough practice, i.e. brick by brick, the gap between the two can be bridged and a student will find themselves confidently able to think like a writer.       

 

A Teacher's Goal

Despite now too often being relegated to the position of baby-sitter, a teacher at one time was meant to be a source of inspiration. Specifically, a teacher is supposed to bridge the space between ignorance and understanding.

People today expect automation in education. Teachers are seen as vendors of distilled information and, consequently, robbed of their actual value. Good teachers continue to chart pathways to understanding in spite of social efforts to crush this behavior in the name of efficiency. Unfortunately, a growing percentage of educators are selected for their willingness to process students as though these children are just paper work being filtered through another level of government bureaucracy.  

The best teachers are in awe of their subjects and try to help the student understand why he should love the topic as well. One of my best professors earned my admiration by opening my eyes to the magnificence of every work we studied. I will never forget how he brought Beethoven to life, explaining fiercely that no one had ever heard anything like this musical madman's work; that at the conclusion of his ninth symphony, Beethoven had to be spun around to register the explosive fanfare that had commenced because he, the man who had written this masterpiece, was too deaf to hear even thunderous applause.

Danielson, my professor, bridged that gap between my ignorance and understanding and it wasn't a matter of relaying the facts to me; instead it was a matter of challenging my perspective and illuminating a pathway down which I had to choose to walk. An adequate teacher explains to you that a forest exists; a good teacher shows you it from afar; a great teacher takes you on a path deep inside and says "listen to the sounds, smell the air, and understand why it was worth coming here!"



 

Seeking Mentors

I doubt I’d be what I am today without the influence of key teaching/tutoring mentors throughout my life. During my time in the private sector, I found refuge from the corporate approach to learning by embracing the methods of fellow, experienced tutors. Whether intentional or not, they guided me in my understanding of the art of teaching and of managing the student-teacher dynamic.

             
One figure in particular, Chris, helped me recognize the importance of being able to both take the education and tutoring process seriously while also having a sense of humor about yourself and the student. With him, kids had a good time, and I could tell that he did as well. He is a natural born teacher and, in fact, works professionally at a public school now. But at the time, he put plenty of hours into the big-box tutoring company that the two of us met through.

Chris taught me that teaching dynamics are social dynamics. When dealing with kids, you need to embrace the kid within yourself—to an extent. You need to think like a teenager, utilize the natural authority granted to you by your position, and “lead the gang”, whether it be you and one other student or a group of 10. This usually means being funny, outgoing, teasing, and quick on your feet. Empathy is the key and perhaps heart of real teaching because students seek to learn from you when they respect you as a person.

              
At the same time, you can never forget you are an adult. I became quite adept at recognizing when shenanigans had gone too far and summoning a harsh tone to quiet the situation down. Furthermore, while most students enjoy being treated as an equal by an adult, it is important to correctly judge when that equality reaches the end of its fuse—stress and tough social situations can overwhelm a student.

              
Working with adults calls on similar empathetic skills, but offers a unique variety of intellectual challenges. Meeting with a 50 year old man or woman can be intimidating for me at 27; how do I reach someone who has twice the life experience as I? Though stressful, this creates a symbiotic tutoring relationship: whereas with children I embrace my inner-child, with adult students I rise to the standard. I grow internally while the student grows intellectually.

All of this insight started with a mentor who showed, not told me how to look at teaching and tutoring. Perhaps it is natural; we teachers seek to mentor and we understand the value of a mentor for ourselves. To this day I remain friends with Chris and we talk about school and I ask my questions about his career. I am still learning, every time something new.

What more could a tutor ask for?     

Unmotivated Students

                 Every once in a while, I encounter in my tutoring a student who has absolutely no interest in the process. He or she is there by their parent’s volition alone. The majority of these students are energetic and intelligent outside of our sessions, so, overconfident, they immediately attempt to negotiate or bargain with me during the first class. Tactics usually involve wasting time on vapid conversation or guilt trips about homework amounts. When I was new to tutoring, these tactics were not ineffective; now, I smile and think to myself, “I just haggled price with your parents! Do you think I’m afraid of you?!”

                I have found honesty is the best policy with the rebelliously unmotivated student. For the most part, they have never experienced an adult speaking to them as though expecting adult discourse in return. This simultaneously works two adolescent weaknesses: first, they desire, unpleasant though it may be, to continue speaking as adults; second, they are suddenly in unfamiliar territory emotionally. However, it is important to maintain a level of amused mastery internally. You cannot enter a heated debate with a student without instantaneously having lost.

                In an SAT session with a rebellious student recently, the student was determined to use an essay method supposedly “taught” to them in school. It was deplorable. At first, I wielded authority gently and encouraged him to attempt my methods as a test. When he refused, I finally point-blank asked him if he thought I did not know what I was talking about. A dumb-founded “What?” was the only reply. I asked again, calmly, “Do you think I don’t know what I’m talking about? I see only two options for why you would ignore my advice: you think your method is better than mine, thus I am wrong, or you don’t care about improving your score and just want to get through this with the minimal effort.”

                He was speechless. I further asserted that a firm belief in either of those reasons was sufficient for us to stop working together, but that I would have to inform his parents of why we were incompatible. Though he seemed willing to jest at adulthood briefly in a feigned attempt to stand up to me, when confronted with the very adult task of defending himself against his parents he immediately folded. As he should to their judgment in this situation.

                It was not the end of our struggles but it did put an end to any actual threats of disobedience. He had made his choice, and later on when he again resisted a suggested process because it was “too much work”, I simply asked him the same question again and quickly received an, albeit begrudging, acquiescence. 

                But the rebellious student is not the only type of unmotivated student. The second is the frustrated student—a student who finds the material so challenging that they find nothing but agitation in the work. Standardized Test Prep is usually the source of this student. The problem here is not that they cannot learn to eventually love the work. Rather, it is that the work they are being forced to learn is too difficult and the pace they are learning too quick. I doubt I could ever exhaust my stream of analogies for any topic, but these are useless when what a student really needs is a reformation of the last 10 grades of grammar curriculum. It is my job to clean up the mess, but too often I find myself confronting the issue sideways through standardized testing and haphazardly due to time constraints.

The most interesting and fatiguing aspect of tutoring is playing the role of psychologist. Trying to enter the brain of a student—including adults!—and discovering what is the best means of opening intellectual doors in their mind.    

Thoughts on Kelly Gallagher

                In his work, Write Like This, Kelly Gallagher takes great pains to highlight how demonstration is the key to opening students’ minds to both the value of writing and their own capability to write. I am pleased to have found this man’s work—it supports my own conclusions about teaching writing. Too often, writing is treated as a mathematical process. Students construct sentences like adding numbers, and copying from the black-board becomes the sacred ritual of successful learning.

                But in reality, writing is more akin to a physical activity. Any description of writing remains entirely esoteric to the uninitiated. Conceiving of “conciseness” and “precision” can only illustrate so much. Writing is best not taught as theory, but instead as practice. We do not explain to a child how to throw their first ball, we show them how by winding back our own arm and hurling it. Writing is the same way; understanding comes from seeing and doing, not hearing and conceptualizing.

                And yet, writing is not taught this way. Part of this is the practicality of the modern school system. It is “more efficient” to disseminate worksheets or offer critique through a students already written assignment. But actually helping the student craft the assignment—demonstrating how to write a sentence, fixing a student’s mangled sentence right then and there and discussing the thought process, or guiding them socratically through questioning to organize both their thoughts and eventual written output—is nearly impossible when you have 25 students.

                A writing tutor has the opportunity and, I would argue, responsibility to engage the student at this level. The results of writing an essay with the student word for word or explaining your thought process and questioning theirs, is almost immediately rewarding. It is also incredibly invigorating as a tutor. It puts you in the moment and allows you to use the craft, a refreshing and empowering experience.

                I am not saying that note taking has no place in the tutoring lesson, but let the notes be derived organically by your work together, rather than lectured. Start with a simple concept such as “Conciseness” and then allow the learning to evolve and be recorded like time-lapsed photographs of a growing plant rather than analytic shots of an autopsy. Because taught the way writing normally is today, that is how the student will see it: a dead body of work they have to pick over and try to emulate. When really, it is an ancient, fluid and constant process of which they can become a part, joining the ranks of all great humans in as crucial a right of passage as one’s first steps.