One of the best parts of a writing residency is when I ask students what they’ve learned about writing. Here’s a sampling from last month’s residency:

• “I’ve learned that writing is actually fun!”
• “You don’t have to be perfect. You can always fix things later!”
• “I learned that it can take a long time and you can make lots of drafts.”
• “Reading books helps us to be better writers.”
• “You can find mistakes when you read to the wall!”
• “Erasers can be our best friend!”
• “We can do the same things other authors do.”
• “When we’re writing, we get to create things from our own imaginations!”

I wish I could convey the enthusiasm of these grade 1-4 students. Their words will have to suffice.

Last week I had a range of experiences: presenting to administrators and district leaders from across the country, presenting to 4-6 teachers on the new curriculum, creating resources on morphology for teachers and students, and working as a writer-in-residence with grade 1-4 students. The highlight, though, was in a grade one class.

Students were engaged and excited about the creative process, using their imaginations to create characters and sequential stories, in many ways oblivious to the many skills they were using to accomplish this complex task.

One student decided to use her own recent experience–the death of her pet–as the basis of her narrative. As she and I talked through her ideas, I had the privilege of witnessing this little one process her loss. As she began writing, she was able to express both her grief and her acceptance on the page–through story.

Was she creating a transformation story? Did she connect the plot pattern in the mentor texts with her own experience? Was she using her phonetic knowledge to spell words on the page? Was she sequencing her thoughts with each sentence she wrote? Was she attending to conventions such as punctuation and capitalization?

Yes to all.

More importantly though, she was working through one of her first experiences with grief.

As educators, we do our best to teach students to wield the mighty power of words. To help not hurt. To empower not dishearten. To encourage not deflate. To seek knowledge and not spread falsehoods.

Haruki Murakami has said, “Words have power. Yet that power must be rooted in truth and justice. Words must never stand apart from those principles.”

How about these words? I hear not only the principles of truth and justice, but those of freedom and democracy. Grace Linn, you go girl…

The other day, after watching ten minutes of the news, I felt both disheartened and angry. Angry that an unborn child will never get to know his police officer father. Angry that another school community has been rocked by gun violence in the U.S.–an elementary school yet. Angry that gun regulations are slow to change because too many resist. Angry that lies are spewed as truth.

Then I remembered what St. Augustine once said, “Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are Anger and Courage: Anger for the ways things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”

I will use my anger to fuel my courage. To speak out in the platforms I have available. To find ways–little ways even–to spread love and kindness to those around me, strangers included. I may not be able to change the headlines but I can influence the stories in my own circle, creating ripples with unknown effects.

Will you join me? Use your anger to fuel your courage… spread love and kindness in your own circles… create ripples…

Generate Hope.

Last week in the middle of my work, I had a moment. A moment of realization:

I am doing exactly what I am meant to be doing.

As I create my next resource for teachers and students, I am using my literacy background, my love of language, my knowledge of pedagogy, and my creativity. I am both challenged and excited by my work each day. I love writing for teachers and students. I love the team I am working with. I love the energy and passion devoted to this resource.

True, I’m busy and working hard to meet deadlines. But I am enjoying every part of this process.

I am where I am because of a chance encounter at a conference in 2018. I am where I am because I took a risk leaving the security of a job I loved. No question: it was the right decision. Meant to be, in fact.

Last week I hosted another Parent Literacy Evening at an elementary school. I enjoy meeting with parents in this context and listening to the questions they pose. I share favourite books for various ages. I provide simple, effective strategies to support young readers and writers. I talk about the importance of the attitudes shared by parents and the environment created in the home.

Sometimes school staff are disappointed that more parents don’t attend. And yet, those that come, want to be there. Those that come, ask important questions. Those that come, positively impact the literacy lives of their children.

What more can we ask, really?

“Children are made readers on the laps of their parents.”

Emilie Buchwald

Supporting parents, supports their children, too.

I’m in the middle of convention season and I’ve been meeting teachers and administrators across the province (with many more to come)!

I love educators who share a passion for learning and improving their practice: those who ask questions, refine their work, strive to be their best selves for their students. Those who know they can never stop learning.

Consider this convention season a mid-year opportunity to learn and reflect:

• Do you capitalize on your instructional time with students?
• Are your practices based on strong pedagogy?
• What should you stop doing in your classroom? What could you start doing?
• How are you a positive leader in your school?
• How do you ensure that your students know they are safe and valuable in your classroom? Each and every student.

Our work is important work. We have the responsibility and the opportunity to impact student learning, self-concept, and well-being. As John Hattie has said, “Know thy impact.”

Your work matters. You matter… perhaps even more than you realize.

Picture this…

I ventured into the last class of the day during my most recent residency: Kindergarten.

After reading the students a mentor text, I was scaffolding their representation of transformation stories. Students were hard at work illustrating the middle of the transformation story when they spontaneously broke into song: This Little Light of Mine. It began at one table but quickly spread to all. Soft, beautiful, precious five-year-old voices.

This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine...

When the weight of the world feels heavy, I will return to this moment.

…Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.

When we consider our newest writers, it is essential that we provide them with the tools they need.

One of the easiest–and yet most important–tools we can provide them with is an alphabet on their desk or table. As our young writers are learning the letters of the alphabet, they need a visual as a reference. Even if they recognize the sounds, when writing, they are now attaching print. Yes, the letter h says /h/, but what does an h look like again? For many, looking up to the alphabet on the wall is one step too many. Whether on a name plate or simply an alphabet on its own, this tool is vital.

With the popularity of sound walls, in some classrooms, word walls have disappeared. And yet, the presence of a word wall–built together with students throughout the year–is another way of empowering our young writers. High-frequency words in particular can be included on the word wall for quick reference. Then, students can spell the other words they need phonetically.

Without these tools, students may seem reluctant to write. With these tools in place, students have an effective starting point, giving them confidence to take risks. The writing follows!

Last week during one of my residency days, I was reminded of the importance of relationships.

I walked into one school (my fourth visit) and a grade four student noticed me in the hallway. She said, “I’m so happy to see you today!” I immediately felt welcome and excited for the day.

One of the morning announcements mentioned the birthday of a teacher assistant. When she walked into the grade three class I was in, the kids stopped to wish her happy birthday. They asked if they could sing to her but the teacher was worried about losing out on my limited time with them. I insisted we sing. People first.

During my time in grade one, a little one leaned into me as if for support or security. He was teary but reluctant to say what was wrong. Despite all of my efforts to coax him to his desk to work, he was back at my side before I could blink. I realized that ‘writing’ was not what he needed that day. He had other needs taking precedent and stay glued to me for the rest of class.

I’m often asked if I miss being in a school–one school. I don’t actually. I feel fortunate to meet many students in many schools. The relationships may not be long-lasting, but I hope our short time together still has an impact on students. The students certainly have an impact on me. I am fortunate to still get cards and pictures, hugs and “I love you’s”. More important, I have the privilege of watching students change their attitudes towards writing.

Yup, I like this gig.