Using Digital Stories to Inspire Reluctant Writers


We’re only a few weeks into the year, but a few of my students are already on the radar. You are probably in the same situation — noticing and making notes of students who will be needing a little more support and attention as writers and readers. We’re still finishing up our digital story project, but as in other years, I am noticing how this kind of technology project can engage the reluctant writers I am already seeing. This one student really struggled with sentence flow, and syntax, and getting ideas down on paper, but they have flourished with the Dream Scene digital story project, so much so that every single day they are asking if I can share their project with all of my classes.

They would never, not in a million years, do that with a written piece of writing.

I was thinking of this the other day — of what is it about the technology aspect that can provide an inroad for some of our reluctant writers to be successful, and feel successful, even though they don’t see themselves as writers. In this case, this student gets so frustrated with other assignments, they often just give up, hang their head and shut down.

So why this project?

First of all, the “writing” is hidden. Their writing is a script, a piece of narration, and so all spelling, grammar and other mechanics that often gum up their writing is behind the veil. This gives the student some power and some authority over the “content” of the piece as opposed to the “mechanics” of the piece. We’ll work on mechanics this year, for sure, but here, that isn’t the main thing that readers/viewers will see.

Second, there was a set structure to their pieces (what is your dream, why is it important, how will you achieve it) that kept the writing from getting too open-ended and unfocused. We’ll be moving on to more open writing later in the year, and I know I will need work on hard with storyboarding, and graphic organizers, and more. But for now, this structure was a comfort zone for my reluctant writers.

Third, the art element of illustrating your own digital story empowered the strengths of this particular student. They spent a lot of time on the art, erasing and restarting a handful of times to get it just right. There was a real pride in what they were doing, and that pride-fulness carried over into the digital story component of the piece. I want to note that in the illustration, the self-portrait shows my student smiling and in full focus. I love that self-perception, which we don’t always see in them in the classroom, unfortunately.

Fourth, if you listen, you can hear this student perceiving an audience. They know we will be watching it together in the classroom (and we may be sharing these over at Youth Voices, too). The sense that more than me, the teacher, would be the viewer gave a little push to try a little harder, and to not be afraid to get the picture right, and get the narration right, even if it meant slowing down and starting over (something they would almost never do with a piece of written work. They write; it’s done.)

Finally, they were creating an original video, for the first time ever. Too many young people are cast into the role of consumer, or viewer, and not enough into the role of producer. Even with this short digital story, the expertise was in their hands, and they were creating something original. The power of that act is very motivating for young people.

I’m as proud of what this student has accomplished as they are of themselves, and my task now is to keep nurturing that motivation and using that interest to work on writing skills. I will keep referring back to this early success as an example of what they can do, instead of pounding it into their head the thing they lack. The deficit model won’t work so well in this situation.

This young writer is being built, one digital story at a time.

Peace (in the mulling over),
Kevin

 

What Digital Dream Scenes Look Like

We’re now well into our first digital story project — Dream Scenes — and a few students are already finishing up. Some are still illustrating. That’s the nature of digital work, though. You need to be flexible about the pacing, and then set up hard deadlines so that even the slowpokes get the work done. Here are two projects that are mostly completed right now.


 

Peace (in the sharing),
Kevin

 

Sweet Dreams are Made of These …

Dreams 2011
This week, my students began their first digital story project. It’s called Dream Scenes, in which they share an aspiration for themselves, why it is important and how they will achieve it. We use Photostory3, and MS Paint for the illustrations, and the small nature of the project is a great way to begin to introduce technology into the writing classroom. The writing is still at the heart of the project. And I get to know them all a little better, too.

This Wordle is something we created yesterday as each of my students in four different classes shared out the theme of their Dream Scene. I like sharing this cloud with them because it pulls together all of the sixth graders as one digital piece, instead of four different classes.

Peace (in dreams),
Kevin

 

Mea Culpa: My Expensive Projector

(See more of my series about the smarty pants board at Boolean Squared)

Since the start of school last year, I have had a Promethean Interactive Board in my classroom, but you would never know that it was an interactive device. It was a nice projector. An expensive projector. Whenever we watched videos, it was like having your own little movie theater in the classroom. It was a beautiful experience.

But it wasn’t interactive. The pen was in my desk and I did everything on the computer.

Writing this post makes me feel guilty, given how much I explore technology, but I wasn’t all that impressed with the possibilities of the whiteboard. There were also some issues with the pen that goes with the board, and a connection error that popped up from time to time. I could have figured it out, I suppose, but instead,  I sort of just blocked out a desire to learn at some point. That’s my mea culpa here. I had a piece of technology that our school invested in and I sort of avoided learning how to use it, even though right down the hallway, my science colleague quickly became a master of using her board for interactive activities and she was completely open to showing anyone how to use it.  I felt even more guilt in June when our principal announced he wanted to see the upper grade classrooms all using the voting system for a  lesson plan that he would observe. Yikes. (He got too busy … so he never made the rounds, but his message was clear to us that he wanted to see results of the investment. It was a kick to the seat of the pants that I needed, that’s for sure. Suddenly, I began wondering about the board in a new way.)

So, what was up with me? Was I scared of the interactive board? (naw, although it could be frustrating at times when it didn’t work quite right). Was I feeling strange being the one to ask for help around technology when usually it is the other way around? (maybe, a bit … maybe more than a bit?). Did I even give the thing a try to see how I might use it? (only a chance and little more) Was I not sure how it might fit into my ELA curriculum? (that’s part of it). Was there not enough professional development with the purchase of the board? (yes, not enough)

This summer, I decided that I could not let an expensive interactive board spend another year as a glorified video projector. When my science colleague offered a morning of tutorials this summer, I jumped at the chance to learn more about using it for Activotes with our voting devices, and containers for grouping ideas, and a few other things. I dove in, and promised myself I would give this board a chance to show me some things.

So far, so good.

I have already used the interactive board for a voting activity around literary devices that sparked some interesting discussions; used the containers for a lesson around building supporting details around a topic sentence: and I designed a vocabulary review lesson that seemed to have helped bring the words into my students’ heads in a different way. I’ve had kids writing, drawing, adding content to prompts, and all sorts of things. The students do love to use it and do seem engaged in the activities. A few students asked if we could do our vocabulary quizzes on the board, instead of on paper, telling me they think they would do better that way. I’m not so sure about that.

I still have a ways to go in this relationship with the whiteboard. Next, I need to start using the data generated by the student’s votes to see who really is getting a concept and who is not, and I need to keep using the tools I know how to use and adding new ones as the year progresses so that the board can keep adding another layer of possibilities for my students. I don’t want to lose what I have learned through inactivity. And maybe there are more tools and possibilities that I just don’t know about yet. In fact, I am sure about that.

I’m still not convinced of all of the claims of an interactive board transforming the classroom learning experiences. And I am not really sure the money invested in boards is quite worth it, given the high needs of all sorts of areas (our school could use more math and ELA support teachers and I wonder how many of my colleagues in the building were doing what I was doing — using the board as only a projector), but at least I can walk in the classroom each morning without the guilt I felt of looking at this expensive board hanging on my wall. I’m making a place for it in my curriculum.

Peace (in the confession),
Kevin

 

What I Already See in Their Writing

Observations on Paragraph Writing
We started the year off, writing. I don’t assess this early writing (which is a reader response paragraph) but I do make general observations about trends that I am seeing and then I share those observations with all of my students as “teaching points” to begin to move forward. The writing samples were OK — not particularly strong, but not too particularly weak, either — and the slide above indicates things I will be returning to early in the school year with them.

Peace (in the points),
Kevin

 

Remembering 9/11: A Memory Project

Our sixth graders are too young to remember 9/11. But like many schools, we wanted to honor the memory of the loss and tragedy during the 10th anniversary and keep it part of our current history of how the world can change on an instant. So my social studies colleague designed a family interview project, and I put a voice recorder in his hands (his first time trying out podcasting). My role here was mostly only media producer, taking the voices of our students and some footage of the Gallery Walk posters, and putting them together. I hope you find it as powerful as we did.

Peace (in the shadows),
Kevin

 

Data, Inquiry, Action, Teaching

The other day, I was reading and then re-reading a post by Bud Hunt about teacher inquiry and data collection, and the balance he talks about in regards to data analysis and hard numbers.

Bud wrote:

“Teachers, of all people, should have a good and always developing sense of this: they should know and understand what it means to measure, and how measurement affects the thing you’re measuring, and how there are ways other than percentages and standard deviations to explore vital areas of life and living and learning.”

His post crossed my mind again over the weekend, as I was sorting through a large stack of Benchmark Reading Assessment folders. This “data set” represents my current students. I try to be organized here, so I had a roster sheet from each class and began to mark down the Independent, Instructional and Hard levels for every child. I then used a highlighter to begin color-coding the instructional levels of every student so I have an idea of grade-level reading, from the data of the Benchmark Assessments. The visual helps.

Later, I pulled out a writing sample that I gave my students this past week. They had to write a paragraph response to a question about protagonist and antagonist from the story Rikki Tikki Tavi, using evidence from the story to support their ideas. I went through these short pieces, reading for paragraph structure and also for content. I made notes on my master roster sheet about where they are as writers in the early stage in the sixth grade.

When I am done here, I will have an overview of what my classes of young readers and writers look like. I know it won’t be perfect. There are all sorts of reasons why the data might not be accurate: perhaps last year’s teacher didn’t administer the Benchmark the same way that I do; maybe they had a bad day when I asked them to write the paragraph; etc. But at this stage in the year, I am looking to get both an overall impression of where the classes are at and where individual students are at.

And then, at our staff meeting, we started to get information about last year’s state testing scores (MCAS). I can’t share the results yet due to a state-issued embargo, but I am starting to crunch those numbers, too, not only to see if changes in the curriculum last year made a difference, but also, to identify this year’s students who might need some extra help or observation.

And finally, over at our iAnthology network, one of this week’s writing prompts from Janet Ilko is all about teacher inquiry and what it looks like in our classroom. It’s like the week of inquiry and data!

And now, thinking back a bit to Bud, I want to remember that the numbers from all of these different areas (Benchmark, paragraph, MCAS, etc), while important, is not everything and certainly no Knight on a Horse to the Rescue. The data collection will guide my planning and help with curriculum changes, but it will be my day-to-day observations and adjustments and flexibility that I hope will make a difference in their growth as readers and writers, but also as people.

Which brings me to yet another related point: I may be working with two UMass professors this year on a classroom research inquiry project around my students and their use of digital tools for composition both inside and outside the classroom. We’re curious about overlap, or not. Much of that inquiry will be observation and interview — the “data” will be what they see, even we know there will be many limitations to what students will let you see of their lives. I may keep coming back to Bud’s post as we move forward, as a gentle reminder of the complexities of classroom inquiry research.

Peace (in the inquiry),
Kevin

 

They Novel They’re Writing

They were so cute. The three of them, trying to muster up the courage to tell me something just as class was about to begin, all the while they’re dancing around each other. They can’t decide who should speak.

One of my students began, “Mr. H, well … we …” and then she pushed her friend forward. “You tell him.”

The next girl clutched a bunch of paper to her chest. “The three of us are …” and her voice faded.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class is waiting for me to come to the front of the room and everyone has now turned to see where I am and what I am doing. The three girls turn to their classmates. One says, “You don’t need to listen!” Not in a mean tone, but in a playful tone. They know they are being overheard by friends and the class.

I remain patient, wondering what these three girls are trying to tell me. I resist the urge to say, Get on with it already! I have a class to run! No. Something interesting is going on here. We’ve only been together here in school for a week, so maybe they are trying to figure out how much trust they can put in me. What kind of teacher is he anyway? they are probably wondering. My hope is that it won’t be long before that possible thought isn’t even a question for them as writers.

The first girl steps forward again. “Mr H, we’re writing a novel.”

And with that word now off the tip of her tongue, its like some dam has broken free. They all start talking in a sing-song way about the book they have started to write collaboratively, with three main characters (and each quickly explains a character to me), and each girl is taking on the writing of a single character, and how they are weaving the story together from the three narratives and perspectives. The other two girls go to their notebooks and pull out papers to show me, as if they need to show me physical evidence to prove they have a novel underway. One even shows me an illustration “for the back cover of the book.” It’s an image of three girls walking, arms around each other as friends.

And then, the kicker. One girls says, “Mr H, when we are done with the first chapter, could you … read it for us?”

If it were proper to do so, I would scoop these three girls up in a hug for inviting me into their writing space. Instead, I can only give them words and hope that will be enough. “Yes! Absolutely! I would love to read the first chapter of your novel. And I would love to read the novel, too. That’s so exciting!”

I give them a smile, and they are now all caught up in the magic of writing and expectations, and I hope all of their classmates are still listening, and being inspired by the scene in the back of the room.

I can’t wait to read their story.

Peace (in the sharing),
Kevin

 

Knowing Names

We’re a week into school and once again, somehow, I know almost every child’s name. If you teach in a self-contained classroom, that’s relatively easy. You see the same group of students all day. They get burned into your mind easily enough. But if, like me, you have multiple classes and almost 80 overall students, it gets a bit trickier at the start of the year to track who is who and who they are. That’s a lot of faces to quickly implant on your memory banks, which (if you are like me) are getting older and rustier, and have been lulled into relative inactivity by the end of the summer.

And each first day of school as I stare out into four classrooms of kids, I think: I am never going to remember all of these names.

But I do. And I try to do it as quickly as possible so that they feel like true members of the classroom, as part of the community. Names have power to them, and there is power in recognizing someone for who they are, too. I want them to connect with them early on, so that later on, any rough spots become smoother by our early connections. So, when they are writing in class these days, I am staring at their faces, mumbling their names, thinking of siblings I had, and coming up with memory tricks, if needed. (I have warned them that if I am saying their names while looking at them, don’t worry. I am not going to crazy.)

The first step to getting know and understand my new students as people is to get to know them by their names.

Peace (in the memory cells),
Kevin