Dear Class:
Chances are the thing you care most about is your grade. Or, at the very least, some of you will say, “well, indeed sir, my grade does matter.”
It does not matter at all to me, but I understand why it matters a lot to you.
I would like to give you all the top marks possible. To do that, the evidence of your quality work must be self-evident. That is, Mr. Morake and the entire W&R department must say, “we can find no reason not to give all those involved in this work A’s.”
They will not do that because they like you or because they believe in the idea that follows. (I doubt they do.) They will have to be convinced by the work itself.
The alternative is, as you know, for the good writers in the class to get A’s (assuming they work pretty hard) the less able writers to get B’s (assuming they work really hard), and everyone else to get a B- or below. (Or something like that.)
What I propose, and ask you to consider, is writing seven books, together. We will write these books and try to turn them out as finished products we can ship to whoever might take an interest in them.
To quote Seth Godin, I don’t think the world needs any more books, but it does need more authors, and that is what you all should be.
Outline
Book One: What It’s Like To Be Seventeen
Book Two: The Book of Other People
Books Three-Seven: TBD
Four elements of book production:
Writing . . . includes research
Revision . . . the true work
Editing . . . our biggest challenge
Production and shipping . . . our biggest opportunity
Required writing due at the end of this term:
What I learned about writing/research/editing/shipping/teamwork during these two months.
Dear Readers,
I plan to put the above text on a folded-over piece of paper (so it looks like a book) and hand that to my students when I start teaching in a week
In teacher lingo, “going rogue” means you leave the department’s syllabus and do your own thing, which is what I plan to do as best I can without causing anyone around me headaches.
In the first place, I am more comfortable rogue than elsewhere.
Second, as I suggested yesterday, I have long believed (hardly a hot take) that students view writing as a tool for success rather than an art to shape the spirit.
Third, Chat GPT essentially renders needing to know how to write obsolete and to tell seventeen-year-olds otherwise will be like trying to sell you a fax machine.
I don’t know what the right analogy is or how best to do this work now.
I do not know if the idea of producing books is, if not appealing, tangible enough and potentially group-project enough to overcome the fact that English teachers may soon be as in demand as Latin teachers. Zak Stein, (who I learned about from Jake G.) says: “It's not that the kid can't do it, it's that you have not given them a good reason enough reason to do it.”
Agreed, but how much harder with finding that reason to be writing-wise with AI?
Dan K. reminded me of how reviled the five-paragraph essay can be, which is probably a more accurate take on what teaching writing has been than my screed from yesterday. Maybe a clear break from that structure will be appreciated.
Lisa O. suggested that if kids will be writing books then one of them should be about how they can coach themselves and each other, a book about tools to navigate life and oneself.
Meanwhile, Sara M. agreed the best way to start is with some time in the deep end. That is, on day one, have them write (by hand, no computers) a page that answers the question: What is it like to be seventeen?
Then on day two or three, I will see if they want to go rogue and start producing books.
Any thoughts welcome . . . updates to follow,
Ted