“I’m done. I have no more ideas. I quit.”
So said one of my 4th-grade writers. A student who reads and reads. One who writes poetry with the tiniest nudge. One who wanted to start a grade level newspaper. Now he is done?
While this could be a moment of self-induced drama, his serious face said otherwise.
We sat for an unscheduled writing conference.
“All writers have these moments. When the ideas run dry. When we think we have nothing to say.”
He sat and stared.
I talked. I tried to explain that the heart-wrenching feeling of writer’s block/loneliness happens. I went on. Talking about how writing is the decision to make something inside visible. How it is the product of personal thoughts, opinions, and imagination. And because of that, writers are risk-takers. Putting yourself out there is scary. Someone might not like it and say so. Or worse. Not say anything at all. To write is to be brave. And sometimes it is too hard.
He sat and stared.
I told him that maybe it’s time to collect ideas in his notebook.
“But I have no ideas.”
“Write about your life.”
“My life is boring.”
“What exactly do you mean, Mrs. Harmatz?”
“Get your notebook.”
We sat and looked. We noticed. And jotted a few things.
Paper, pillows, people. Perhaps paper was more than something to write on.
Words were written in his notebook. And in mine. Perhaps to surface on another day.
Planning our units of study rarely signal us to commit time to notice. The idea of keeping a notebook with noticings is what writers do. It goes back to the old school version of writing workshop. One that collects ideas. In the wake of ever-escalating expectations that children are subjected to, we must instill balance. One way is to cultivate a practice of noticing.
Tomorrow is a busy day. We will be pressed for time. All the more reason to stop and notice.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers for Slice of Life Tuesdays. Read more slices here.