Articles

Mothers of Bad Writers Unite!

by Julie Bogart

It was a hectic day at our homeschool co-op. I didn't even have time to eat my lunch. I taught a theater arts class at 10:00, had a teacher's meeting at 11:00, fished a half-eaten sandwich out of a garbage can for a 7 year-old at 12:00, and cleaned up the lunchroom in time to make it to my afternoon assistant teaching assignment.

By the time I got to the fourth hour of our co-op, I had about as much energy as a limp leaf of lettuce. Staring me in the eyeballs were my eager-to-learn mothers. Twenty-five moms assembled for the purpose of transforming their beleaguered homeschool writing programs into machines of writing efficiency.

I launched into our lesson by writing feverishly on the white board all of the symptoms of pain associated with the writing process in us and in our kids. Perfectionism, going blank, fear of committing one's thoughts to paper, conflicting emotions, jumbled ideas, confusion about the parameters of the assignment, boredom and anger—the list was long.

Suddenly I was swamped with questions and anxieties of moms as teachers: worries that their kids would never learn to spell, punctuate, use the right verb tenses, write essays and write more than two sentences at one sitting. Their problem? They believe a lie. They assume that their kids should be able to write.

I couldn't take it any more and blurted out, "Well, that's because your kids are all bad writers." Silence. Blank stares. I had broken the first rule of talking to mothers: criticizing their children. So I added hastily, "And they will be until they have ten years of writing under their belts."

Exhales everywhere.

Some of you are fortunate. You have kids who like to write and even do it well for their ages. But let me say here, even good writers at age ten are not "good writers." They all have a long way to go to get good at it in the adult sense.

That said, let's get into what it takes for mothers with no confidence and kids with limited abilities to conquer this Mt. Everest called writing.

Grit: I admire any mother who attempts to teach writing. The longer I teach it, the more tangled and confusing it becomes. I find that just when I think I've stumbled onto a solution, the next writing assignment defies it, resists it, will not be bent to suit it. Promise yourself that you will keep at it, that writing won't beat you. Grit your teeth and tell yourself, "I won't let ink and paper beat me up."

Café au Lait: The best remedy for a languishing writing program is café au lait at Starbucks with another homeschooling friend. I'm serious! Talk to your friends. Tell the truth. You can admit that your kids' writing embarrasses you and that you aren't good at writing yourself. Share your fears about teaching writing. Bring samples of your kids' writing with you. Compare. Take notes. Swap assignment ideas.
When you see that other kids make the same kinds of mistakes your kids make, you get perspective. Isolation wreaks havoc on the mother who attempts to teach her kids to write.

BTW, this is not the time to discuss the curriculum cure. Don't analyze curriculum. Analyze your feelings and your kids' writing. That's where the progress will be made.
Chutzpah: Chutzpah is a word from my childhood. My Jewish neighbors used it to compliment me for my guts and moxie (another great word). People with chutzpah don't shrink from saying what they mean and doing what they say. Moms who teach their kids to write must have the chutzpah to judge writing programs. They need to trust their intuition about what makes sense and what is nonsense. If the topic or assignment doesn't inspire you, throw it in the trash. If you think your kids are sick to death of the project they've slaved over, and it isn't finished, put an end to the agony and quit the project.
You even get to say "My kids don't write every day." Have the chutzpah to teach your kids to write the way you wish you had learned.

Repeat after me: "I can teach my kids to write. Heck, I can learn to write myself!"

See my version of the Un-Scope and Sequence to get an idea of what kids under twelve can be expected to do when they do get around to writing for you.