CCIRA Professional Development Blog

By Kelly Boswell

Several months ago, I was invited into a middle school to work with a group of ELA teachers. As I guided the teachers in looking at student work, identifying strengths and needs, planning a lesson and teaching the lesson, we discovered the power of teaching kids the writing they need now. 

Start With Student Work

We began by gathering around large tables strewn with coffee cups, water bottles and a smattering of student writing samples. As we looked at the students’ work, we asked ourselves two questions and jotted down what we noticed: 

• What do we see students doing really well? 
• And what were some areas of need?

Within a few minutes we had created a list of all of the beautiful, skillful, funny and unique conventions and craft moves we saw along with a list of the skills, conventions and craft moves with which students needed more support. 

As the lively conversations continued around the table, a common need kept surfacing: The students needed support on how to craft an email that was clear, concise, and conventionally sound. 

Use Student Work to Plan Instruction

Now that we had identified a need, it was time to plan a lesson that would address it! As teachers watched, I planned a 30-minute writing lesson that would explicitly teach students how to craft an email in a purposeful and skillful way. 

To plan the lesson, I used a simple structure that I often use when I’m planning any kind of writing lesson with any grade level:

1. Examine the mentor text(s).
2. Engage in teacher modeling.
3. Invite students to talk with a partner.
4. Give students time to write.
5. Guide students in a time of reflection. 

Finding the mentor texts, or examples of what strong emails look like and sound like, took only a few minutes. I simply opened up my email and pulled up a few examples of email exchanges from my own inbox. After a few minutes of scanning the emails,I settled on two emails  that the principal of the school and I had exchanged leading up to my visit. 

With these examples in hand, I could guide the students in noticing the features and qualities of a strong email, show them how I write my own email, invite students to talk with a partner, provide time for them to write and give them an opportunity to reflect on the learning. 

Examine the Mentor Text(s)

As soon as I walked teachers through my thinking and planning, it was time to put the lesson into practice – with actual students!  I gathered my laptop, a large sheet of chart paper and markers and made my way to a 7th grade ELA classroom. 

As I connected my laptop to the smart board, hung up my chart paper and pulled out my favorite fat-tipped marker, the bell rang and students settled into their seats. I quickly introduced myself and then dove in. 

I asked partners to chat about what they already knew about writing emails. I listened in and made a mental note of what understanding the students were bringing to the lesson. 

Then, I called their attention to the screen at the front of the room, where the emails from my own inbox were displayed. We talked a bit about the audience for and purpose of emails and then I asked partners to talk about what they noticed about the email examples. How were they structured? What were the features? 

I listened in and jotted down their responses on chart paper. 

We agreed that a strong email had: 

• A clear subject line
• A greeting
• A friendly opening sentence (such as “I hope your week is going well so far”)
• A concise and clear communication about the purpose of the email
• A respectful sign-off
• The writer’s name 
• Very few, if any, conventional mistakes (capitalization, spelling, punctuation and grammar)

Engage in Teacher Modeling

Before I invited students to begin working on their own email, I asked them to watch me as I thought about who I wanted to write to and for what purpose. After a few moments of thinking (out loud), I decided to write to my son’s band and choir teacher to thank them for letting him split his elective period between their two classes. 

I paused. “To whom do you need to write an email? For what purpose? Meet with your partner and talk about who you are writing to and for what purpose. If you don’t have an email that you actually need to write, simply write an email to your ELA teacher telling her what you think of this lesson!”

Once the partners had some time to think and chat, I gathered the students back together and began planning the email I would craft. 

My think-aloud sounded something like this: “I think the subject will simply be ‘Thank You.’ Then, I think I’ll write both of their names followed by a comma. Maybe I’ll follow that with something like, “I hope the start of the school year is going well so far,” before saying something like, “I wanted to thank you for…” 

Invite Students to Talk With a Partner

“Now it’s your turn,” I told the students. “Meet back with your partner and think about what you want to say in your email. What will your subject line be? How are you thinking you’ll begin? What will the main part of your email be? What are you thinking in terms of a sign-off?”

The room buzzed as kids began planning their emails – out loud – with their partners. 

Give Students Time to Write 

Before I sent students off, they watched as I used my laptop to begin writing the email I had just talked through with them. I didn’t need to write the whole email in front of them – I simply showed them how I would get started, thinking out loud as I wrote. I also deliberately referred to the bulleted list we had created earlier, to show students that I was thinking about these qualities of a strong email as I was writing. 

When I released the students to begin writing, I paused for a moment and surveyed the room. 

Magic. 

Every single student was jumping right in and writing! 

I spent a few more minutes finishing my email and then made sure to display my modeled writing, along with the mentor texts and bulleted list – so that students could refer to these resources while they were writing. 

I walked around the room, pausing to admire student work, or check in with a student if I noticed a look of confusion. A few students asked for support with spelling and I quickly taught them a few resources they could use to help them. 

Guide Students in a Time of Reflection

When I noticed that most students were beginning to finish, I called the group back together. I invited them to read their email out loud to their partner – to see how it looked and to listen to how it sounded. 

Together, we referred to the bulleted list we had created and quickly checked our draft emails to make sure we had included the features of a strong email. (I also asked students to Cc their ELA teacher as a recipient of their email so that we could access these writing samples and could see if there was an improvement in their email-writing skills after the lesson.)

“Thumbs up,” I said, “If you feel that your email is strong and is ready to be sent!” 

Enthusiastic thumbs shot into the air and – on the count of three – we all hit “send!” 

Closing Thoughts

When the teachers and I gathered around the large tables again, analyzing the student writing samples from the lesson, we marveled. We saw a vast improvement in the writing we saw. The emails were clear, concise and conventionally strong. 

Mem Fox, beloved author and teacher, once said:

“You and I don’t engage in meaningless writing exercises in real life—we’re far too busy doing the real thing. And by doing the real thing we constantly learn how to do the real thing better.” 

I have found that students are more likely to become proficient writers who enjoy writing when they have some choice of topic and audience and they value the writing purpose. When we teach kids the writing they need now – writing that is purposeful, connects to an actual audience and is worthy of their time and effort – it can serve as a catalyst to help students improve their writing skills and enjoy the process along the way! 

Kelly Boswell has served as a classroom teacher, author, staff developer, literacy coach, university instructor and district literacy specialist. She is the author of several books with Heinemann Press and Capstone Press including Write This Way, Write This Way From the Start and Every Kid a Writer. She is also the author of several nonfiction children’s books with Capstone Press. Kelly works with schools and districts around the country to support educational leaders, coaches and teachers. Her emphasis is developing literacy practices that help students become joyful and engaged readers and writers.

References

Fox, Mem. 1988. “Notes from the Battlefield: Towards a Theory of Why People Write.” Language Arts 65 (2): 112–25. 

by Carl Anderson and Matt Glover

AI is evolving quickly, and we’re aware of its growing role in education.  While we’re not against teachers using AI to enhance instruction, we want to be careful about where and how teachers use it, what they gain when they do, and what they give up.

If you’ve spent time working with AI chatbots, you may have discovered that they can generate any kind of text quickly. Ask one, “Create a personal narrative about a day at the beach,” or, “Write a literary essay about why the character of Harry Potter is brave,” and within seconds, almost like magic, one appears on your computer screen, fully formed. You can even ask chatbots to write texts that include particular craft moves, such as transitions in essays or dialogue in realistic fiction.

It would seem that chatbots can help address the problem that teachers face of gathering mentor texts for the writing units of study. Right? After all, it takes time to gather mentor texts, time that busy teachers seem to have less and less of these days. And some genres we teach children are harder to find than others. 

However, for several reasons, we have strong reservations about using AI to generate mentor texts.

First, think about the meaning of the term, “mentor.”  A mentor is a more experienced person who helps us become better at an important skill. When we teach with mentor texts in classrooms, we name the author of the text as we teach with it. (“Let’s take a look at how Jacqueline Woodson wrote the lead to her story, Sweet Sweet Memory.) When possible, we share information about an author, to help students understand why they wrote the text (e.g. Jaqueline Woodson wrote Sweet, Sweet Memory in memory of her grandfather, Ganaar, who was a gardener.)  We do this to demystify writing for children, to help them understand that real people—like Jacqueline Woodson–write texts, which means that they can do so themselves. And we do this to support children’s identities as writers, which means they need to see themselves doing the same things that published authors do.

However, if we were to teach with an AI generated mentor text, there is no person behind the text! We can’t name the author, because there is none. We can’t share details about the author’s life that explain why they wrote the text, because there aren’t any. We can’t make the point that students can be writers like the author, because there is no author and, in fact, the text was written by an AI algorithm.

Second, we teach with mentor texts because we want students to learn to use the same craft techniques the authors use, for similar reasons.

If we were to teach with AI generated mentor texts, it would be difficult to authentically study the craft moves that these texts contain. Not because AI generated mentor texts don’t contain craft moves—the AI chatbot will search its memory for similar texts, and create ones with commonly used craft techniques, or we can tell the AI chatbot to write a text using specific craft techniques that we want to teach. The problem we would have is with the important discussion about why these craft techniques are used in the mentor text.  When we study a craft technique in a mentor text, we ask students, “Why do we think the author used this craft technique?  What effect did they think this craft technique would have on their readers?” 

For example, we might ask students, “In Sweet, Sweet Memory,” why do you think Jacqueline Woodson, used the technique of the “description list” to describe the setting of the story (“Somewhere an owl is hoo-hooing soft and loud. Under the porch there are field mice moving around. Maybe a frog or two.”) In response to this question, students can genuinely speculate that that Woodson used this description list to create a beautiful image of the setting in her readers’ mind.

We can’t have this conversation about an AI generated mentor text! That’s because the text was generated at our command, not because a real person wrote it. We can’t speculate about why the “author” used a craft technique because there was no thinking mind behind the text, and because the AI chatbot didn’t use craft techniques to effect readers, since AI chatboxes aren’t people who write for audiences! 

Third, if we ask an AI chatbox to create mentor texts that contain certain craft moves, then the texts will reflect only what we know already know about the genre. If we rely solely on AI to generate mentor texts, then we are missing the opportunity to learn more about the genre that we would have if we were to look for authentic examples where they are found in the world.  This is especially important for new teachers when they are building their knowledge base about writing.

For example, let’s say we ask an AI chatbox to generate several arguments that each have a claim, three reasons, a counterargument, and a conclusion, because that’s how we think arguments usually go. If instead we were to look for arguments in the world, we would discover that some have two reasons, some four (note that this argument has five!). And in some arguments, the author starts their lead with a counterargument, or writes a counterargument before a reason. By studying real examples of argument, we would not only deepen our knowledge of the genre, but we are then able to show students that there are many ways to write an argument—and that as writers, they need to choose the one they think will best help them argue their point.

Fourth, one of the powerful ways we teach with mentor texts is to point out the ways that students are becoming like the authors of the texts. For example, when we confer with mentor texts, both of us often say to students things like, “Wow, I see that you’re using description lists in your story, just like Jacqueline Woodson does in Sweet Sweet Memory!” This is powerful feedback for students. When we compare them to mentor authors who they love and admire, we help build their confidence as writers.  

If we were to teach with AI chatbot generated mentor texts, how can we have this kind of conversation with students?  What would we say?  “Wow, I see that you’re writing just like the algorithm in the AI chatbot?” In what way would this “compliment” have the powerful effect that comparing students to real, live authors that students admire has?

Finally, it’s important to consider the important role that mentor texts play in increasing student engagement in writing. When we teach with mentor texts, we try to select mentor authors who have things in common with the students we’re teaching, and who write about topics that reflect the identities and interests of our students. As Rudine Sims Bishop has written, texts should be “mirrors” for children that reflect their various identifies, their lives, and their interests, so that they realize that these identities, lives and interests are worth writing about.  

We are at a loss when we think about engagement and AI generated mentor texts.  Since there is no person behind an AI generated text, a student cannot be inspired by the author of the texts in the ways they can be inspired by reading a text written by authors like Jacqueline Woodson. After the careful and important work done over the last decade to include mentor texts in our teaching that are representative of the children in a particular classroom, using AI-generated texts seems like a step backwards to us.

We understand that teachers are pressed for time, and that using AI-generated mentor texts can help mitigate the time crunch. However, while it does take some time to find high quality mentor texts in the world, there are excellent sources for mentor texts that are readily available for teachers, such as their classroom or school library, or children’s magazines such as Cricket, Highlights, or Scholastic Storyworks. And we find that when teachers work together to find high-quality mentor texts, the process takes less time. (We describe ways that you can do this collaboratively in our book, How to Become a Better Writing Teacher.)

We also understand that some genres are hard to find. For example, where can you find high-quality literary essay for third graders? We suggest that in these cases, it’s better for you and your colleagues to write your own mentor texts, so that students are studying texts written by real people (you and your colleagues) who can authentically talk about what they did to write them, and why.  

And we also think that if a genre is hard to find, this may suggest you should consider that it not be a genre that you study with your students. For example, literary essay is almost never written for elementary age children as the audience. Since children rarely see it, then why are we studying it in the first place? 

Works Cited

Bishop, Rudine Sims.  1990.  “Mirrors, Windows and Sliding Glass Doors.”Perspectives:  Vol. 6, No. 3, Summer Issue.

Woodson, Jacqueline.  2007.  Sweet, Sweet Memory. Jump At the Sun: New York City.

Carl Anderson and Matt Glover are teacher educators who work with teachers around the world. They are co-authors of the new book, How to Become a Better Writing Teacher.  

by Georgia Heard

I was teaching the names and ignoring the songs – Robin Wall Kimmerer

When my son was young, we took long walks down the street searching for small treasures on the ground. Our treasures were often a blade of grass, a pebble, or a seedling. It took half an hour to walk one block as he stopped to pick up a rock, gaze at a ladybug, stoop down to touch a seed or sometimes, when I wasn’t looking, stuff a not-too-special cigarette butt into his pocket. As we meandered down the sidewalk, he asked a lot of questions: Why does a ladybug have spots? How does a tree grow from a seed? He might lift up a leaf and study it closely or watch a worm wriggle across the sidewalk. My son was doing what all young children do: they see the extraordinary in the ordinary; they ask a lot of questions about the world; and they notice minute details in the everyday. 

I heard the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer, who is also the founding director of the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment, in an interview talk about how part of the scientific process is to name things — for example, to label a specific type of plant (Bayberry: Myrica) or bird (Cedar Wax Wing: Bombycilla cedrorum). But she warns that knowing the scientific name can often shut down inquiry: “We sort of say, Well, we know it now.” She says her evolution as a scientist involved embracing Indigenous ways of knowing: “I was teaching the names and ignoring the songs.” 

Kimmerer’s words remind me of a children’s book I read years ago called The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor. It describes a young boy who learns from an elderly teacher how to listen to the sounds and songs of the natural world. This wise man teaches the boy to hear a wildflower seed bursting open, rocks murmuring and hills singing. He tells the boy that it takes a lot of practice and “you can’t be in a hurry.”

Both Robin Wall Kimmerer and Byrd Baylor’s advice resonate for me as a writer as well. When we write, we can look at an ocean and write “Atlantic Ocean” and even describe it with a few details: blue water, waves crashing, sandy beach. But hearing (or imagining) the waves’ roar, smelling the salty air, seeing hundreds of shells scattered like stars on the sand, and closing our eyes and hearing what the ocean is telling us is a different kind of knowing; it’s about learning to listen and understanding the heart or poetry of something. 

In my new edition of Awakening the Heart: Teaching Poetry I describe a project I did during a month-long residency at an International school in Bangkok. In conjunction with the school’s theme of botany, they aspired to rewild a vacant lot next door in the midst of a bustling cityscape of skyscrapers and non-stop traffic. As a visiting writer, my job was to guide young learners in exploring the “poetry” of plants, if you will. 

In preparation for rewilding the vacant lot and for writing, we first imagined seeds as sentient and wondered what they might feel as they lay nestled in the dark ground waiting to sprout. We also pretended we were seeds, crouching on the floor, then slowly rising upwards toward the light. Children observed and sketched seeds, and we had conversations about what a seeds’ journey might be like both scientifically and poetically. Then they wrote messages to the seeds directly on heart-shaped wildflower seeded paper that they would then plant in the vacant lot and, hopefully, someday flower and flourish: “Seed, I hope you have a good life.” And, “We hope you don’t get eaten by bugs and other animals.” 

We imagined the children’s words mingling with the seeds and the dirt, singing songs of hope, strength, and courage to help make this small bare patch a verdant and gorgeous place.

This is what a poet’s job is, and also what children do naturally when given the opportunity: to look at the world with wonder and to feel and take in the aliveness and beauty of the world. This gift of paying close attention, especially to the small things, is often a portal to wonder, to learning, to being stewards of our planet and also, to being a poet.

Georgia Heard received 2023 Excellence in Poetry for Children Award which honors a living American poet for their aggregate work for children ages 3-13. She is the author of 21 books and numerous professional books. Her newest professional book is Awakening the Heart (second edition) and her new children’s picture book is Welcome to the Wonder House (coauthored with Rebecca Kai Dotlich). Learn more about Georgia on her website: Georgiaheard.com or on social Instagram and X @georgiaheard1.

John Schu talks with Patrick Allen about readers, writers, and his newest book, Louder Than Hunger.

Given your vast experience as an advocate for reading, what is one memorable connection you’ve made with young readers?

John Schu: I LOVE celebrating stories at CCIRA’s Annual Conference. I always tell people about what a WONDERFUL and INSPIRING conference it is. 

I’m grateful you’re chatting with me today. 

Oh, I’ve made so many connections with young readers and writers. 

Mario is the first person who comes to mind. 

I’ll never forget when he approached me, a bit shy and nervous. He seemed unsure and kept rotating himself to the end of the line, not wanting to share in front of the others. He thanked me for talking about The One and Only Ivan and for sharing that it made me cry. “I read it last year,” he said. “It made me cry a lot.” We talked about how sadness in books can help us better deal with sadness in our own lives and better prepare us for difficult moments in life. “I know sadness,” he said. “My sister died last year. Books helped me. Ivan helped me.” My heart was full when I left that meeting. Full of grief for his loss, but also full from the connection our hearts made through sharing Ivan’s  experience—and through that, our own. When we create conditions where children are safe to experience life through the lens of characters and their struggles and successes, books can be a bridge to connect and restore us. Stories have the power to strengthen and heal hearts. A teacher-librarian put The One and Only Ivan in Mario’s hands, but probably had no idea, when they did so, that they were also tattooing love and light and laughter and hope on his heart. Or maybe they did, and that’s exactly why they did it. A book often walks into our lives when we need it the most.

Photo courtesy of Unsplash

Your picture book collaborations with Lauren Castillo and Veronica Miller Jamison are superb… What surprises you about their interpretations of your words in This is a School and This is a Story?

John Schu: I’m so lucky Lauren Castillo and Veronica Miller Jamison said yes to illustrating my poems. That they said yes to illustrating my very spare and lyrical odes to story and libraries and connection. 

Both times, I was surprised and delighted and honored by how they interpreted my words. 

Both times, I was reminded of how school and books can inspire us, connect us, and make us more compassionate. I couldn’t wait to share both picture books with readers of all ages. 

You’ve joined the ranks of children’s authors. Who inspires you as a writer?

John Schu: That’s very kind of you to say. So many children’s book creators inspire me. I’m going to limit my list to ten creators. 

Katherine Applegate

Kate DiCamillo

Margarita Engle

Erin Entrada Kelly

Deborah Freedman

Meg Medina

Dav Pilkey

Jason Reynolds

Jasmine Warga 

Jacqueline Woodson

Tell us about your latest book Louder Than Hunger.  First of all, talk to us about your writing process.  Then, tell us what you hope readers will discover about themselves in the pages. 

John Schu: Louder Than Hunger is a novel-in-verse that tells Jake Stacey’s story. Jake is battling a very loud voice inside his head. A voice that tells him that he doesn’t deserve to take up space. A voice that tells him that he doesn’t deserve food and love. 

While Jake doesn’t usually feel comfortable taking up space in his everyday life, he’s very comfortable taking up a lot of space on the page. He loves playing around with the placement of words. He loves poetry.

I knew right away Louder Than Hunger needed to be told in verse. I cannot imagine the story told in any other way. The white space helped me write the story. The line breaks helped Jake find his voice. 

I hope readers are inspired to listen to music from the ‘80s and ‘90s. 

I hope they’re inspired to watch The Golden Girls, Family Matters, and Fraggle Rock. 

Most importantly, I hope the story helps them ask for help if they are struggling with anorexia nervosa. I hope it helps them feel less alone.

John, you inspire and instill hope in educators.  You love readers and you love books.  What do you hope your legacy will be?

John Schu: Thank you! I love this question! 

I’m going to answer your question by sharing what I hope people say at my memorial. 

John Schu helped spread joy through story. 

He made us laugh. 

He made us cry. 

He listened.

He gave away a lot of notebooks.  

He inspired us to support libraries and librarians, see many Broadway musicals, and go on joywalks. 

He cared.

John Schu has made a career out of advocating for the people and things he cares about most: kids, books, and the people that connect them. John is a children’s book author, a part-time lecturer at Rutgers University, and the children’s librarian for Bookelicious. His greatest joy is sharing his love of reading with countless educators and students around the world.