The Writer Within
By Lynn Mondello Caggiano

As an elementary reading specialist, I often work with students who struggle with reading and other language tasks, including writing. This year, I worked with a group of students for whom written expression was particularly difficult. These three boys were practically paralyzed with fear each time they were asked to write, even if only a simple sentence. One boy, David, often cried. "I can't write," he'd wail. "I just can't." After several weeks of considering David's difficulties, I knew that I had to help him eliminate his fear of writing, that seemingly insurmountable barrier of the blank page.

Drawing it out. I began by thinking about David's strengths. What did he enjoy? Football, baseball, fishing, yes. Building model cars. But I didn't see how the skills required for success in these activities would help David become a writer. But building model cars requires patience and persistence. It requires an examination of the overall product, and a plan. What if I applied these attributes to David's writing?

But I needed more than that. I had already tried the "Tell me what you want to say and I'll write it on the paper for you" method. But that didn't prevent David from becoming discouraged.

Then one day, it happened. I was desperately trying to get David to say something more exciting about his weekend than "Nothing." He was whining about not wanting to work, and asked if we could draw instead.

That's when it hit me. Draw. "To draw is to express oneself on paper, even if not through words," I thought. I told David he could draw, but with this requirement – "Choose one thing that you did this weekend, and draw it for me." Afterward, when I asked him to tell me about his picture, his explanation was much more elaborate than any sentence he had ever dictated to me. He included details that weren't depicted in his illustration, but that he felt were central to the story.

I hung up his picture and praised his efforts. A plan was forming in my head.

The joy of expression. The following week, when it was time for Monday-morning journals, I launched my plan.

"Today, instead of writing in our journals," I began, watching their faces, "we will draw our journal entry." A small sea of smiles rose as they scrambled to get the crayons and paper. "Then, we will tell about our pictures, and I will write your journal." And so our journey began.

With the pressure of writing gone, the joy of expression began. I played classical music softly and the boys began to draw weekend scenes – one drew himself playing video games, another drew himself playing outside with his brother. I drew my husband and myself shopping at Home Depot. The boys worked steadily, pausing only to choose colors or to reconsider the accuracy of a sketch. When they were done, I had each student describe his picture. Together, we created three simple sentences about the scene, which I wrote down.

Upping the ante. Each Monday thereafter, we journaled through pictures. The dictations lessened as I guided the kids in using their illustrations as "notes," or an outline of sorts. Whenever a student was stuck, my response was, "Tell me about your picture. Why did you draw this boy here? Why are his pants dirty?" Each answer added to the story and got the pencils moving.

Soon, I upped the ante. Now, I told my students that their pictures should include enough details that a partner could write their journal for them. Partners were not allowed to write any words that were not represented in the picture. So, for example, if David's picture represented him eating at a restaurant with his friend Chris, but didn't clearly show what the pair was eating, David's partner couldn't elaborate on what they ate. Instead, he would have to stick to something general, such as, "They ate at Pizza Hut." But, if David's illustration clearly showed the boys gobbling pepperoni slices, then that detail could be phrased and added. This exercise really helped each student see what kinds of details were most helpful in describing a scene or event. I was pleased to hear often, "Ooh – can I have the picture back for a minute? I forgot to add something," as one of my reluctant writers scrambled to add a visual detail to make his partner's writing task clearer. What's more, I eventually saw these self-editing techniques spill over into the boys' pre-illustration, pre-writing and writing tasks.

A good story. I had used a familiar and enjoyable medium – drawing – to demystify an unfamiliar and daunting one. Now, as my students write, I ask them to draw a picture in their heads. I say, "Use your words to tell me what you see. Choose your words carefully. I should be able to draw that picture that you see in your head."

My students were able to see that writing is a task similar to drawing. Both require organization and attention to detail to tell a good story. They learned that they needed to start somewhere, to get some part of the thought down, and that it's okay to jot down notes as necessary.

What I learned about teaching writing was this: Writing is a task that many see as unstructured and abstract. When I was able to break that task into manageable chunks, my students overcame their fears and shone. They learned to transfer a visual image into words. And isn't that what good writing is all about – conveying images to communicate ideas?

I knew that I had achieved my goal of eliminating this group's fear of writing when I picked up the boys one day and David asked, "What are we doing today?"

"Reading," I replied.

"Aawwww…I wanted to write today," David lamented. "I have so much to share!"

Lynn Caggiano is a K-5 reading specialist in Rockaway Township, NJ and a teacher consultant for the National Writing Project.

Updated November 2007
November/December 2004, Vol.35, No.3