Dakota Writing Project

By Jeannette Jennings, West Central High School

For over twenty years I’ve been reading professional educational journals with admiration—admiration for the authors’ work and for their writing. I have gleaned many lessons and in part, shaped my teaching philosophy through these articles. It never occurred to me, however, that I should also be writing professionally. That is, writing about my profession, teaching. Now two professional writing retreats later, I finally understand the importance of teachers using their writing voices to share their expertise.

My professional writing journey began at a quaint bed and breakfast in the charming rural town of Stickney, SD. Six participants, representing various South Dakota school districts, and two facilitators descended on this writer’s paradise on a chilly March afternoon for the first DWP Professional Writers Retreat. Paradise and chilly may seem like contradictory terms, but when your sole responsibility is to write and you’re being fed gourmet meals, well, I’ll let you decide.

The agenda for the retreat was simply to write and write and write. We were to write about our passions in education or about our best practices in the classroom. For over two and a half days the goal was to develop the first draft of a professional article.

I was ready to capture on paper the genre unit I had experienced with my junior American Literature and Composition class earlier that school year. In our long stretches of writing, I was able to draft an introduction explaining why I had created the unit and then launch into the step-by-step process of exploring genre and creating quilts that would serve as metaphors for American literature.

I grew my article from a shell of an idea to a detailed narrative. But it took awhile to get beyond the nagging questions. How much is too much detail? How much rationale should I share? Is my introduction so long that I lose my readers before I get to the details of the unit?

Fortunately, expert coaching from the facilitators and the writing group helped me answer these questions. Their coaching affirmed that I was writing about something teachers would want to know about. And, my coaches showed me where they wanted to hear more about what my students had done and how the unit had progressed from day to day. Their feedback was the road map I needed to help me develop my ideas. I continued my writing confident that I was taking my article in the right direction. Although I had a long way to go to the final product, by the time we met for our last session, I was ready to share my writing.

On Saturday afternoon, the eight of us gathered for our read around—an opportunity to showcase our professional writing and to end the retreat feeling a sense of accomplishment. Each one of us was given three minutes to read any section from our article we wanted to share. It was fascinating to hear these pieces that had gone from jotted ideas to fluent narrative. Once again my admiration surfaced. There, in the living room of this historical B & B, were those same professional voices I had been admiring in professional journals for years. But this time the voices were my colleagues from across South Dakota sharing their expertise in using technology in the writing classroom, directing a literary project, mentoring young teachers. I marveled at the writing taking shape, writing that needed to be shared with the world. It was a privilege to sit among them.

I left the DWP retreat with most of my first draft written, a promise to finish it within five weeks, and the new found confidence that I had something worth saying to the education world. Actually, I experienced more than confidence, although a pinch of that never hurts. I experienced a resolve to continue honing my professional writing skills.

This resolve to write professionally led me to the next step–putting myself “out there” and hoping the National Writing Project would deem me worthy to attend one of its professional writing retreats. I completed the necessary steps of the application for Writing Retreat A—a retreat for educators who want to start developing an article—sent it in and then held my breath.

I continued to work on my genre article while I impatiently waited for a reply from NWP. About a month later, I opened my e-mail to read these words: Dear Jeannette, The facilitation team of the NWP Professional Writing Retreats would like to extend an invitation to you to attend Writing Retreat B, Editing for Publication, August 2-5, in Santa Fe. We had an overwhelming number of applicants across both retreats this year, and we noted that you seem far enough along in your work to make good use of retreat B. I exhaled. To say that I was ecstatic would be an understatement. What an honor to be included in a list of fifteen participants from around the country who would attend the NWP Professional Writing Retreat B in Santa Fe, NM. I only needed to read the invitation once to know where I would be spending the first week of August.

The NWP retreat was similar to what I had experienced in Stickney complete with its own charming setting at a peaceful resort in the high desert country just fifteen minutes from downtown Santa Fe. Sunrise Springs Resort and Spa would be home for three and a half days with all the creature comforts I needed: a comfortable bed, lots of good food and coffee and a roommate from Dubuque, Iowa whose upbeat personality and endless energy kept me going when I didn’t think I had it in me to write one more word.

During our first meeting with the NWP facilitators, we discussed what it means to write professionally and the need for teachers’ voices to be heard in our schools, our communities and our country. I knew I was in the right place. I was inspired to continue the arduous journey of finding my professional writing voice.

Settling into a secluded space, I continued developing my genre article. Although I had a “complete” first draft, I knew I had much revising to do, especially in the conclusion, before an editor would consider the piece. And, I wanted to make good use of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with “the big guns” of the National Writing Project. Easy enough I thought. I’m at a writing retreat.

During the first twenty-four hours of the retreat, however, I felt like an ancient turtle slowly trudging across a perilous highway to reach a few tasty morsels on the other side, wondering if I would ever get to them. Whether it was the dramatic change in altitude—from 1,430 feet above sea level to 6,200 feet above sea level—or the intense intimidation I was experiencing in the company of this incredibly scholarly group, the morsels seemed unattainable. I kept revisiting the same sections of my article and avoiding the more challenging part—that pesky conclusion. Writing that conclusion seemed like work and I just didn’t have the grit.

So I went to my writing group for help. They were more interested in my genre unit than in my actual writing. One teacher was ready to try the lesson with her students. Those encouraging words told me my description of the unit was clear and complete. But, I still didn’t know what I was going to do with my conclusion.

From my writing group, I went to one of the NWP facilitators for help. He suggested that I focus on teaching literature by genre since he didn’t think much had been written on that topic. He gave me a few suggestions about where I might present more detail, but he didn’t have time to help me with my conclusion because our conferences were limited to thirty minutes.

At that point, I had several ideas to work with and I knew that when I was ready, I could have another conference with a facilitator. But I still lacked the grit to tackle my conclusion. So I decided to go for a dark, robust coffee to give me a good jolt. At least it was a good excuse to put off the inevitable.

Eventually, I settled back into working on my article to discover that conferencing and caffeine truly did help me get back to writing. I was able to eliminate the wordiness and get a better sense of the organizational flow. The tasty morsels seemed closer, yet the article’s conclusion still loomed before me as an unobtainable goal.

Then English Journal Editor, Louann Reid, joined our group on Friday night. Louann a warm and genuine person, spent a day and half with us, discussing query letters, describing the process an article goes through to be published and encouraging all of us to pursue publication. In addition, Louann devoted an entire day to conferencing with us one-on-one. There she was in the flesh. I could hardly wait to have my conference.

Sitting with Louann to discuss my article was like sitting with a long-time friend and sharing what we love, teaching and writing. The intimidation that had been overwhelming my thoughts washed away as Louann gave me sage advice about what I needed to change in my article, especially sharing more detail about some of the steps of the project. Louann also confirmed that I was writing about something teachers would be interested in using in their classrooms. But most importantly, she helped me focus on what I needed to do with my conclusion. With her expert editorial experience, Louann showed me how to synthesize my main points and gave me some fresh ideas about how to organize the final paragraphs. Finally, I had the direction I was looking for. I was encouraged and reenergized. Perhaps I would make it across the road after all.

I hurried back to my laptop. My thoughts came quickly and easily. The article began to take on more defined shape and meaning. The conclusion no longer loomed before me but started to feel like a natural extension of all that I had described in the body of the article. I was on my way to tasting the choice morsels.

Later that same day, we met for a large group check-in so everybody could briefly tell how their writing was progressing. After each person spoke, we could write affirmation notes if we chose to do so. At the end of that session, I truly reached the choicest morsel, a note from Louann that read: I look forward to seeing that article when you’re ready. Honest.

At the end of the retreat, we each presented a three-minute reading from our articles just as we had in Stickney. Among the voices I heard the middle school drama teacher, the retired teacher who is conducting professional development workshops, the high school creative writing teacher, and the technical college writing teacher. Every person confirmed that we teachers are the true voice of education. Our professional writing is the writing that will help to move education forward in the twenty-first century.

Now after these two rewarding writing retreats, I continue to feel the need to write. I have continued to refine my genre article working toward the day when it is ready to send to Louann. But I have an idea that my professional writing won’t stop there. I am looking carefully at my classroom practices and thinking about what else I can share with you—my colleagues. I have come to understand that I too have knowledge and expertise about teaching that can help other educators shape their philosophy and add lessons to their files. I have become a professional writer.

by Greg Dyer, University of Sioux Falls

In this article, Greg highlights the importance of experienced, knowledgeable teachers sharing their expertise, with a special invitation to current DWP teacher-consultants near the end. —Editor

Last week, I was sitting in a meeting where a well meaning colleague was talking about the writing ability of our students: “They can’t use commas, or semicolons, or document their sources. They just can’t write.”

I suspect many of us have heard these comments, or made them ourselves from time to time. (I know I have.) To be sure, conventions such as punctuation, usage, and documentation of sources are important facets of effective writing, especially for an academic audience. But I cringe every time I hear conventions equated with writing. On such occasions, I know I’m going to have about five seconds to figure out whether to let the comments pass, to affirm them by citing my own similar frustrations, or to broaden the discussion by explaining why writing is so much more than a person’s ability to handle the conventions of Standard Edited American English.

As most of us recognize, writing is thinking. Donald Murray notes, “Writing is the most disciplined form of thinking; writing is the fundamental tool of the intellectual life” (9). And the intellectual life getting more difficult—or, at the very least, it is changing. In his introduction to The Best American Essays: 2007, David Foster Wallace describes the challenges of living thoughtfully and purposefully in a U. S. culture that he labels “Total Noise”: “a culture and volume of info and spin and rhetoric and context that I know I’m not alone in finding too much to even absorb, much less to try to make sense of or organize into any kind of triage of saliency or value” (xiii – xiv).

Wallace, satirizing a line from President Bush, describes our increasing dependence on “Deciders,” those to whom we are “subcontracting and outsourcing and submitting” our intellectual lives (xvi). He goes so far as to note that “It may possibly be that acuity and taste in choosing which Deciders one submits to is now the real measure of informed adulthood” (xvi).

Pursuing “Informed Adulthood”

In order to live well and teach well in such a culture, we must find ways to revise the wide-spread and persistent view of writing as a matter of correctness, of conventions. Within a culture of “Total Noise,” we must pursue a pedagogy that instills in our students (and their parents, and our colleagues, and our administrators, and our public officials) a recognition of the fundamental role writing plays in developing information literacy, in developing the dispositions and skills necessary to choose one’s Deciders well, and perhaps even to serve effectively as a Decider for others.

We must undertake efforts to reach beyond the walls of our classroom and engage in an interdisciplinary fashion with our colleagues. Information has no disciplinary boundaries; it doesn’t fit neatly into any curriculum map. Teachers of writing, influenced by more than three decades of writing across the curriculum and the National Writing Project [1], are uniquely equipped to foster a more sustained interdisciplinarity with our colleagues. We may even find that an interdisciplinary pursuit of information literacy generates opportunities to advocate more effectively for writing across the curriculum. The American Library Association Presidential Committee on Information Literacy describes information literate people as “those who have learned how to learn. They know how to learn because they know how knowledge is organized, how to find information, and how to use information in such a way that others can learn from them” (American Library Association). Such goals simply cannot be reached without inquiry-based writing, or without an understanding of rhetoric and technology that enables one to evaluate information wisely and employ information well.

DWP Teacher-Consultants and the Next Step

As teachers of writing—at whatever level—we possess a vision and a pedagogy vital for cultivating an informed adulthood within our culture’s “Total Noise.” But we have some growing to do, as well. Our traditional boundaries are comfortable, and crossing those boundaries means overcoming social, professional, and institutional challenges. David Foster Wallace describes informed adulthood as “not just the intelligence to discern one’s own error or stupidity, but the humility to address it, absorb it, and move on and out therefrom, bravely, toward the next revealed error” (xxiv). Stated less severely, informed adulthood within the culture of “Total Noise” requires the intelligence, humility, and persistence necessary to continue taking the next step forward.

For those willing to take the next step, please give careful consideration to attending the Dakota Writing Project’s “Weekend Warrior” Professional Development Retreat to be held on the USD campus on April 18-20. This retreat is designed to equip DWP teacher-consultants to share their knowledge with other educators in the pursuit of a more holistic definition of writing and a more effective pedagogy. We recognize that providing professional development for one’s colleagues can be a formidable notion, but we also recognize the potential for “teachers teaching teachers” to transform education in our state. We’ve had the pleasure of witnessing your intelligence, humility, and persistence, and we hope you’ll consider joining us as we take this step in an exciting new direction for the DWP.

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1. Interestingly enough, the origins of writing across the curriculum pedagogy are rooted in nearby Pella, Iowa, where Barbara Walvoord initiated the first WAC faculty seminar in the 1969-70 academic year (McLeod 149). The National Writing Project began in 1974, with the Bay Area Writing Project.

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Works Cited

American Library Association. “Presidential Committee on Information Literacy: Final Report.” 10 January 1989. Association of College and Research Libraries. 1 February 2008.

McLeod, Susan. “The Pedagogy of Writing Across the Curriculum.” A Guide to Composition Pedagogies. Ed. Gary Tate, Amy Rupiper, and Kurt Schick. New York: Oxford UP, 2001. 149-164.

Murray, Donald M. The Craft of Revision. Fort Worth: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, Inc., 1991.

Wallace, David Foster. “Introduction: Deciderization 2007 — A Special Report.” The Best American Essays: 2007. Ed. David Foster Wallace. Series Ed. Robert Atwan. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2007. xii-xxiv.