Monday, January 3, 2011
And learn more I do. My first session is in part of the enormous Fantasia ballroom, and it is packed. In authentic Writing Project style, we write a little, we discuss our Summer Institute formats and we end up laughing a lot. We circulate in the room, counter-clockwise, answering questions about our Summer Institutes: What texts do you use? How do you select your fellows? How do your writing groups function? How do you select texts? What kinds of writings do you do? How do you integrate continuity? Curious about the latter, I pay close attention to what my session-mates write. Some reconnect by way of parties or planning sessions. Some require their fellows to sign up for committees before they leave their SI’s. Still others require that in exchange for their tuition, they make themselves available for in-services or other such projects.
Next, I focus my attention on grants. More specifically, writing mini grants. By sheer luck, I sit at a table with a member of the TIC Network, who is on the grant review committee. Accompanied by Manny, we inundate him with questions: What do you look for in an application? What kind of applications gets approved? How can we make our application more appealing? It was during this session that the thinking behind our recent TIC Network grant proposal got its start.
Further sessions dealt with classroom games, classroom writing, inquiry during the Summer Institute, recruitment and continuity programs. Many times I felt the validation that can only come when one realizes that their Writing Project site is completely on track, even ahead of the game, and it was fun sharing ideas and concepts with other sites. Other times brought genuine interest in what was working for other sites. In between sessions, reconvening in the lavish lobby to discuss our findings and network with teachers from other sites emerged as an essential part of the Annual Meeting.
Friday evening found me back in the Fantasia ballroom, this time visiting with our team and others I had met at the Annual Meeting. Evaluating the scene around me, I still felt an air of union, but it was relaxed. Journals and pens were packed away. People were milling about, setting up connections and making arrangements before traveling back to their destinations. It wasn’t long before it was time to gather my own belongings and depart. Walking across the marbled lobby floors, I took one more look around, knowing that this would be the last time I would here during this meeting. It was almost empty, completely devoid of the organized chaos I had witnessed early. Nevertheless, the feeling of belonging to something utterly larger than me remained. Indeed, the importance of being allied with so many people as part of the larger National Writing Project will remain with me for a long time to come. Walking out into the cool Orlando night, I left Disney’s Contemporary Resort lobby behind, appreciating what had been accomplished and welcoming the possibility of what was still to come.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The NWP 2010 annual meeting in Orlando was the first annual meeting I have attended. I hope it will not be my last opportunity to participate in such an empowering conference. As I sat in the auditorium for Friday’s general session, I commented to the people sitting next to me that it isn’t often the knowledge and enthusiasm in a room is so palpable.
The session that was most relevant to me was “Youth Programs: A Key to Unlocking Your Site’s Potential.” The sessions leaders were enthusiastic and committed to our site’s belief that it is essential to reach out to young writers and provide opportunities to develop their writing skills.
Not all of the site participants had youth camps set up the way our WTWP site does, so it was interesting to learn about other approaches to working with youth programs.
One amazing project was carried out by the Southern Arizona Writing Project. The Project involved students, teachers, businesses, and organizations in the publication of Desert Living is Different. The book is given to newcomers to the Tucson area, and is available in libraries and other locations. Its publication was instrumental in convincing administrators to continue financial support for the site. Their experience supports the importance of making the community and the university aware of student writing by producing excellent publications and products.
Several writing “camps” are held at schools, sometimes in a class, sometimes after school. No matter what the scheduling, writing and revision are encouraged to create quality publications. Students are assigned duties and responsibilities for a real world experience. Another important factor is the cross grade level participation. Older students also serve as mentors to younger writers. These are ideas that can be incorporated in any writing program.
Another concern for NWP sites is funding for youth programs. One suggestion to increase enrollment is to hold small camps in multiple locations to facilitate student involvement. Many sites solicit donations from parents, teachers, businesses, and organizations. Communication with prospective donors is essential, including follow up with an anthology or other tangible product. Maintaining our youth programs is worth the time and effort involved in order to ensure the future of all our writing sites.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
This is a term I've wondered about a great deal the last few years, particularly as I've noticed it emerge as a growing topic of interest in the writing project. I must admit that the cynical side of me has wondered whether it might not just be a trendy buzzword. In fact, my conservative side has even wondered if it--whatever "it" is exactly--could ultimately just be a distraction from the solid and substantive written discourse that has been the currency of academic progress for three millennia.
Apparently, I'm not entirely alone in my wonderings. That is, at least I'm not the only one wondering what exactly this "it" is since our roundtable on digital literacy hosted by representatives from a dozen different sites around the nation began with an invitation for all of us to explore what digital literacy means and whether it really is a "new" form of literacy at all.
In the course of that reflection (written reflection, of course, this is the NWP after all) I found myself thinking about the book I was reading on the plane while heading out to Orlando, Pandora's Seed by Spencer Wells. In it Wells chronicles what he calls the "unforeseen cost of civilization," the myriad ways that settling down in cities and growing out own food has reshaped our bodies and minds. One of the take away ideas from Wells' book that I couldn't help but think about when considering digital literacy is that there's no going back.
So it was time to indulge my pragmatist side and stop letting those other sides label digital literacy a catchphrase or try to look down their noses at the new fangled. Whatever digital literacy might mean for reading and writing in the 21st century, its ascension is inevitable. Every teacher in the country knows that there is something new at work in our children's lives. There are words buzzing around the air at all times, 140 character tweets and heavily abbreviated SMS text messages whiz right through the walls of our classrooms.
Twitter makes for a great example. I actually have a twitter account. I use it to disseminate assignments and directions to my Academic Decathlon team without actually understanding why it is that teenagers find such a limited medium so fascinating. Leave it to a Writing Project Teacher Consultant to open my eyes. At the round table, Katherine Frank from the Southern Colorado Writing Project described how jettisoning clunky online classroom message boards in favor of Twitter inspired her students to be succinct, yet powerful in their responses to literature--and to each other. I've always fretted over Twitter's 140 character limit as a testament to the online tool's utter vapidity, but she reminded us that one of the essential operations of poetry is to compress language. Like a poetry exercise, Twitter helped her students begin playing with text in ways she hadn't anticipated, making the 140 character limit...liberating.
There are obviously worlds of possibility beyond Twitter, too. For example, Chuck Jurich from the High Desert Writing Project shared his experiences running an after-school video production club for elementary school students. He found that making videos forced revision into all the open spaces of the writing process. I found myself wondering whether having students turn their papers into mini-documentaries might encourage them to really revise their ideas between drafts. For years the availability of cameras would have made an idea like that spurious at best, but today, a quarter of the students in my high school classes have iPhones, iPods or Android phones capable of video editing on the fly.
So by the end of my first roundtable in Orlando, it was my rosy-eyed, optimist self who prevailed. Digital literacy isn't a threat to the currency of academic discourse. It's the same currency, newly minted. It is, as one of the TC's in our roundtable explained, just "writing with electricity."