How to Make Student Stories FUN to Read [+ FREE Video Training]

Books to teach students that stories have struggles.
Check out the special video below to see how to use
these books to help students understand:
No Struggle = No Story.

I am enamored by any person (whether 4 or 44 or 94) who is willing to unfold a story word by word. I know the epic battle it takes to write our stories and share them with others. Because of this, I consider each story I read to be a gift from the writer to me.

I tend to love reading student stories. I’m good at finding the glimmers of writing within each story. I like to celebrate alongside young writers (and grown up writers too) about the powerful parts of their stories. I’ve read more than my share of student stories. As a former 7th grade language arts teacher (with 100 + students each year) and a district instructional writing coach, student stories are as much a part of my day as breathing air.

To say I’ve read a lot of student stories is an understatement.

So this next line is brutal truth.

There are some days when I don’t love reading student stories.

Please tell me I’m not alone. It’s not because I don’t love young writers. Rather, it’s because too often student stories are not very much fun to read. They can be boring, confusing, and frustrating.

Rather than dreading student stories, I think it’s important to learn to embrace student writing by giving kids the knowledge they need to write strong stories.

Here is the best game changer for turning student stories from boring to brilliant.

No Struggle. No Story.

This one rule has a remarkable positive effect on student stories. It is a truth of all strong narratives. Every story has a struggle. It’s true for life and it’s true for the stories we write.

No Struggle. No Story.

If every story a student writes (whether it is a true life story or a fiction story) has a struggle and at the end the struggle is overcome, then the story becomes more enjoyable to read.

This is true for most stories. They have struggles. Think about your favorite narrative books. They have struggles. Consider the stories you read to your class today. I bet they had struggles.

It’s a concept our youngest writers can understand. Ask them.

Hold up a book you’ve just read aloud and ask them, “What’s the struggle?” They’ll know.

Then teach them that all stories have a struggle. If there’s no struggle, then there’s no story. They’ll be able to remember this concept. I often make it a chant. The teacher says “No struggle,” and students respond with “No story!”

It’s a concept we can expand and deepen for older students. There are different kinds of struggles. There are external struggles. (Man vs. Man and Man vs. Nature for secondary students.) These are struggles that are happening outside the character. There are also internal struggles. (Man vs. Self for secondary students.) These are struggles that characters face within their own hearts. Often characters face more than one struggle in a story. As students recognize this, they can begin applying different struggles to the stories they are writing.

It’s time to  add this key lesson to your writing instruction. The enjoyment student have for writing skyrockets when they know this. This makes the stories more fun to read, too!

No Struggle. No Story.

Trust me, you will see instant improvement in student stories. If you'd like to know a little bit more about teaching students that all stories have struggle, I created a little video training for you. Just fill out the form below and you'll get access to the video + links to 3 minilesson videos that help students develop craft strategies to improve their story writing.

i get to be their momma {CELEBRATE This Week: 166}

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! 

Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. 

Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

These are my kids. 

None of them grew in my belly. 

All have histories that don't include me.

Let me introduce them, starting at the bottom of the photo.

Jordan is 11. He joined our forever family in 2013, when he was nearly 8. He lived for more than 7 years in foster care. You want his eyelashes, I promise. He has a contagious smile. He loves football. His strength is his resilience.

Sam is 10. He was our first child, adopted at birth in 2006. I cut the cord. He has an obnoxious amount of knowledge about trains. His strength is his ability to love people when they are hard to love. His favorite thing to do is have fun and makes sure everyone around him is lighthearted and laughing.

Stephanie is 12. She joined our forever family in 2008 when Sam was 2. She's a beast on the basketball court. She's creative and independent. She takes care of herself. Her strength is her resolved to overcome.

Hannah is 15. We adopted her at the same time as Stephanie; they have been together their entire lives. Hannah loves to read, especially historical fiction and greek mythology. She is an old woman trapped in a teenager's body. Her strength is her commitment to grow into the best version of herself as possible. She is a beautiful mess.

My celebration is I get to be their momma.

It's not an easy gig.

Motherhood never is.

This week I wrote about a key feature of stories.

Stories have struggles.

It is a truth that stabbed my heart. It's one thing to know this as a technical part of writing. If your story doesn't have a struggle, then it's not really a story anyone wants to read. Fiction writers ensure their stories are ones people want to read by plunging their characters into struggle after struggle after struggle.

For Stephanie, her storyline is plunging into struggle after struggle after struggle. Andy and I, as her parents, aren't stopping the struggles.

It's not an easy gig.

If we only look at the slice of a story that is the struggle, we wouldn't like the story very much. Strong stories have struggles not because readers like a struggle, but because we like it when characters overcome a struggle. The more dire the struggle, the better the story. 

Sometimes we're not sure a character is going to overcome the struggle, but we don't quit reading. We keep going. We press on. We trust that good is going to overcome the struggle.

The same is true in life. If we take just a slice, there is often cause for alarm. It is cause for alarm if we just look at Stephanie's current storyline. The thing about life is we don't quit when it gets hard. We keep going. We press on. We trust that good is going to overcome the struggle.

And so I celebrate that I get to be a momma to these kids. 

The ones who struggle. 

The ones who fail. 

The ones who have been scraped by the ugly of the world. 

They are the ones who fight the good fight and write an impossibly beautiful ending. 

I celebrate that I get to be along for the ride.

Here's to celebrating, even when it's hard. Share your links below.

Is Writing Essential?

Writing makes my life better. I'm better when I write and I'm better when others write and I read their stories.

When I have an audience, I'm clear. I'm better at being focused and unfolding my meaning with thoughtful intention. My words pack a punch because I craft for power, making sure my spelling and conventions back up my meaning. An audience offers feedback and nudges my thinking, making me a better writer, forcing me to live a better story.

When I write between the covers of my notebook, I'm raw. I'm better at being fearless in my notebook. Things don't have to be thought-out, scoured through for what might be right and what might be wrong. My notebook doesn't judge me when I'm in the process of sorting things out. My notebook doesn't judge me when I'm learning a new craft move. My notebook doesn't judge me when my content and craft take over my spelling and conventions. My notebook offers me a place to be vulnerable, making me a better writer, forcing me to live a better story.

My notebook is all kinds of comfort and an audience makes my palms sweaty. If I'm not careful, I could hole up in my notebook. I don't have to risk embarrassment or getting something wrong. I don't have to risk hurting feelings or feeling stupid.

So I wonder why share my story? Why encourage others to share their stories? Does it matter? Would the world be a better place if we just holed up in our notebooks and never shared our words.

I don't think so.

Story changes the world. The only way our story is shared is if we are brave enough to give it, to offer it, to believe it will make the world a better place.

Do we have to write to share our stories?

Nope. The simple answer is no, no we do not. As Tom Romano shares in Write What Matters, "Writing is not essential to a well-lived life."

I have to admit, these words sting a bit. Sometimes the truth hurts. Writing is not essential to a well-lived life. Andy doesn't write, and yet I know of no one who lives life better.

Writing isn't essential for a well-lived life.

I supposed this same case could be made for reading and math, too. They aren't essential for a well-lived life. Although it makes me cringe as much as the thought of writing being inessential for a well-lived life. I'm still not sure I believe it, that these things aren't essential for a well-lived life.

If I boil it down to the bones, I find I'm left with story. It's not fair to keep it hidden. It's not enough to hold it and never share it. Whether we talk or draw or write our stories, the important thing is we share them with an audience.


We've gotta share our stories with a real, live, genuine audience. Because what I know for sure is when we take our stories out, with our hearts pounding and our palms sweaty, we become alive and the world becomes better. We understand one another in new ways and we gain grace. Story will only change the world if we share them.



This is why writing workshop is an essential part of education. We must learn to share our stories because they are part of something bigger than ourselves.

CELEBRATE This Week LXXXVII (87)

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

I turned my Instagram account public. I've been using it to collect & document celebrations. I love it. Please follow me there: @ruth_ayres to find celebrations throughout the week.

*****

My family had the privilege of hosting 8 friends (slicers, teachers, writers) from 7 different states for dinner.  It is one of those moments when you know as it's happening it is affirming  you, changing you, and positioning you all at the same time. We laughed and cried and laughed laughed laughed.

Perhaps you don't recognize them from the photo. You will recognize them from their blog names. From left to right in the photo, you will find...

Ramona from Pleasures from the Page and Washington State

Linda from Teacher Dance and Denver, Colorado

Becca from Nguyen's Prairie Home Companion and Indiana

Christy from Read Write Inspire and Illinois

Mary Helen from Book Savors and Indiana

Kim from Write Kim Write and California

Lori from Colors of My Life and Memphis, Tennessee

Elsie from Elsie Tries Writing and Springfield, Missouri

Andy grilled for us. He'd do just about anything for these women. They handed back pieces of me when my writing life was fragile.

It is a risk to open our worlds to others. I place words -- honest, raw, beautiful, messy words on the page -- and build a story. Bit by bit my story unfolds in notebooks and articles and books and blogs (traveling through time from Inspiring Readers and Writers and Two Writing Teachers and now here).

I have a lifetime collected in scraps of stories, always turning to the page to gather words.

I look at this photo and it anchors me. It reminds me that I always get more than I give when I clack words and open my world.

Home is where I get to be wholly me.  It is an honor to host these women who have helped me believe my story matters. They call themselves the Ruth Ayres Fan Club. It makes my cheeks rosy and my heart tingle. Andy claims presidency of the club. This makes me laugh.

I used to worry about getting the story right.

Now I know Story refuses to have anything to do with getting it right. Story defies perfection. Story refuses stagnation.Story laughs at being controlled.

As a writer the only right thing is to catch the story as it spins.

I celebrate finding this truth because I'm surrounded (in my home and around the globe) by people who write their stories because I write mine.

I'm pretty sure this is the best gift anyone can give.

I am a Story Collector

I collect stories.

The Bible is filled with really awful, horrible chapters of stories. Hard journeys of deceit and jealousy, murder and rape, exclusions and cover-ups.  If you take one of these chapters and hold it, study it, and try to make sense of it, you could easily miss the truth of Christianity.

The Bible isn't meant to be read as a chapter. It is meant to be read as a whole.

If you only read the chapter of Eve eating the forbidden apple, then you would miss the whole of her story, a beautiful story that tethers the God of creation to Jesus to the Holy Spirit. Eve's story is even part of my story today.

Our lives are the same way. We have horrible chapters in the midst our stories. Chapters of too hard and deceit and mistakes. There is danger in holding on to just a bit of the story.

This is why I am a story-collector and I think you should be one too.

My children have seen the worst of humanity while in biological and foster homes. Our stories are started before we are even born and then they are written moment by moment and breath by breath. Our brains are designed to make sense of the world by telling stories.

We own the stories that help us understand the world.

For a neglected child, the story might go -- No matter how loudly I cry, no one is going to take care of me. The only way to get what I need is to take it myself.

Another story goes like this -- The kids who have always lived in this house are loved the most. They get toys for birthdays and they get to hunt Easter eggs and they get to dress up for Halloween. Since I've just joined the family, I have to sit in my room during the festivities. Families love the kids more who are there the longest.

A story might go like this -- As long as I don't make any noise or eye contact, then I'm safe. They'll leave me alone.

The story can go like this -- If I make a mess, even if it's an accident, I better run away. If I'm not around, then I won't get hit.

Too many kids tell themselves -- I'm too dumb to be loved. I'm too annoying to be loved. I'm too messy to be loved.


Our brains cycle stories over and over in order to make sense of our experiences. Too often, the stories we tell ourselves are untrue. Unfortunately, our brains are unreliable and don't recognize an untrue story. All of the facts have congealed to give a version of the truth and our brains accept it, and make a story to confirm the untruth version of the facts.

I collect stories to document a different version. 

Too often when older children join a family, they are living out the untrue version of their stories. They bring a whole slew of unpleasant behaviors and harsh words. It's important to remember that this is only one chapter of their stories.

And it is an ugly chapter.

A forever family lives the ugly, so the story can be rewritten.

This is a beautiful truth: A story can always be rewritten.

That's what we learn from the ugly chapters in the Bible. The stories don't have to end ugly. David -- a man after God's own heart, a king, and part of the lineage of Jesus -- got another man's wife pregnant, tried to manipulate her husband, and when the husband refused to rest because he felt it was disloyal to his troops who were still in battle, David sent him to the front lines. It was an elaborate murder scheme. Once the man died, he then married his wife and she bore David a son. 2 Samuel 11 is one of those ugly chapters.

I'm glad David's story doesn't end there.


The beauty of the Bible lies in its entirety, just as the beauty of our lives lies in the whole journey. The story isn't finished and it doesn't have to be stuck in the ugly.

I pile stories as proof that a life doesn't have to be stuck in the ugly. I gather celebrations so they don't slip into the shadows. I muster the moments because together they help me to learn to love more.

I am a story collector so others can live a more beautiful version of their own story.

Share Your Story {14 of 40 Stories}

Click here for the backstory.

When Sam was in preschool he planted a tiny seed in a dixie cup and watched it sprout. He brought the sprout home and we planted it in the flower bed. I have a naturally black thumb -- death black, in fact -- when it comes to gardening. So I felt compelled to give a warning.

"You can't count on me to take care of your sunflower. You'll need to be responsible for getting it what it needs," I said solemnly.

"I will," he said back, just as seriously.

It turns out he is a much better gardener than his momma. Not only did he water his sunflower, but he talked to it too. On most days throughout the summer he crouched beside the stalk and whispered to it. It grew and grew and grew and he kept talking. Eventually it towered over him and he looked up, cupping his hands around his mouth and raising his voice so the flower in the sky could hear him.

When the bloom finally burst open, it was huge. That fall we cut it down and he donated the flower head to his kindergarten science table. There were hundreds of seeds in the flower head. From one tiny seed, stuffed into a dixie cup by a five year old, hundreds were produced.

There is a parable of a farmer who sows his seeds. As he was scattering them, some fell on the path. The birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground and the seeds sprouted, but withered soon in the sun. Some of the seeds fell in a thorn patch. They grew, but were choked by the thorns. Still, other seeds fell on good soil where it produced a crop, a hundred times more than what was sown.

I feel like I'm sowing stories like the farmer sowed seeds. I nurture them, just like Sam did with his sunflower seed. (Maybe I can redeem myself by being a much better weaver of words than I am grower of plants.) Sowing stories is more than stacking words. It is living and sharing and honoring stories (my own and others) with words and actions.

Sometimes it might seem like our stories don't matter in the big world. Maybe it's not whether the story is worthy, maybe, just maybe it depends on where it falls. Because the world is big and there are many places our stories might land. They might be snatched away by the birds. They might be short lived in the rocks. They might be choked out by the thorns.

But there is always the possibility that they will land on good soil. When they do, stories serve a noble and good purpose. Our stories, when they land in prepared hearts, help others persevere. Our stories can inspire and encourage. Our stories offer sustenance.

Life is made up of strength and struggle, love and hope with giggles and thanksgiving filling the gaps.  Our stories can change the world. Take the time to share yours today.

Flower Boy (SOLS)

{Flowers from My Editor}

Once, a long time ago, Andy and I lived in two different Big Ten towns. I attended IU Bloomington and Andy studied (briefly) at Purdue. One year, I went back to school early to help with freshman orientation. At the end of the week, there was a surprise waiting for me behind the front desk -- a large bouquet of colorful flowers. I couldn't believe Andy had actually done something romantic. These were the first flowers he'd ever sent after more than two years of dating.

I tore open the envelope looking forward to the sweet greeting. Scanning the card, I smiled at the very sweet message and then blinked at the wrong name signed at the bottom of the card. Instead of Andy's name, it was the name of a guy I met during Welcome Week. Thinking back, I realized we were at a lot of the same events and he did end up at my table more often than not during meal times.


The flowers, although beautiful, made me frown.

Later, during our phone conversation I told Andy about the flowers. I mostly remember silence from his end. It went something like this.

"Someone sent me flowers today."

"Who?"

"Oh, just a guy I met this week."

Silence. Then, "What kind of flowers?"

"All kinds. There's daisies, do you know those are my favorites? And roses and some lilies. They are all different colors. You know how much I love colors! It's a pretty big bouquet."

Silence. "Why'd he send you flowers?"

"I don't know. I guess because he likes hanging out. He's a new friend."

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.

Andy said, "Maybe you should get rid of them."

I was appalled. "They're beautiful! I'm not getting rid of them. I've never gotten flowers before and I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. He knows I'm dating you."

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.

The next time I saw Andy he greeted me with long stemmed roses and balloons. Balloons? I think I said it out loud, "Balloons?"

"Flower Boy didn't give you balloons did he?"

"Flower Boy?"

He takes my hand and we walk across campus. "That guy who gave you flowers. There weren't balloons, were there?"

"Well, no." I had almost forgotten about the flowers. It was weeks ago.

"I thought you should have balloons."

The story doesn't end there. Andy spent the next two years visiting me at IU. It turned out there was a man who sold roses alongside the route Andy drove. Every single time he visited, he brought me a dozen roses.

Years later, after our wedding rings were worn, Andy's friends let it slip. "Of all the times I saw Ayres angry, nothing compared to when he hung up the phone after Flower Boy made a move on you, Ruth."

"Nobody ever made a move on me." I laughed.

Their eyes were big and the rumble of "Ohhhhh!" and the laughs that followed made Andy smile.

"Guys don't send flowers to friends, Ruth." Andy said. "Guys send flowers when they're making a move."

"Or when they're refusing to be shown up, right Ayres?" They laugh some more.

"How many dozens of roses did you buy off that road side stand for Ruth while she was at IU?" another friend asked.

Realization strikes, my eyes wide, I ask, "You bought me those flowers because some guy sent me flowers once?"

"Flower Boy," all three say in unison.

Ever since I moved home from Bloomington, I've never received another bouquet of flowers from Andy. Flower Boy continued to be the only person who ever sent me an arrangement of flowers from a shop. And it was quite an arrangement.

Last Thursday I received an even bigger arrangement of flowers from my editor at Choice Literacy. "It's huge!" I said.

Later that night, we remembered Flower Boy. "It's even bigger than the arrangement from Flower Boy," I said.

"Good," Andy said. "I'm glad he doesn't hold the title of best arrangement anymore."

I snuggled into his shoulder, the place I've fit perfectly for the past 19 years. He starts the crime show. The smell of flowers wrap around us and I'm thankful for the way things work out.

Read other slices by clicking on the image.

Teaching Points Lead to Authentic and Specific Writing Instruction

Before every single minilesson I teach in writing workshop, I write a statement. It always begins the same way, and I never (not-ever) forget to write it. It begins like this:

Writers...

This statement is a non-negotiable for me because it forces me to boil down the teaching point to something specific and authentic. If I can't complete the statement, then I shouldn't be teaching the lesson. Here are a few of my recent teaching points.

• Writers decide how to enter a new writing project either through collecting, drafting, or planning.
• Writers tell stories from their lives. 
• Writers use capital letters intentionally.
• Writers use both the inside story and outside story to write a narrative.
• Writers use their lexical system to figure out the spelling of a word.
• Writers use their notebooks to find the next thing to write about.
• Writers tell one time stories from their lives.
• Writers craft a story instead of reporting a story.

When I have this statement in mind, then I'm able to consider how to make the teaching point "sticky" and I can plan my minilesson accordingly. I also stack my teaching points together to make sure they are aligned with the bigger goals for the unit of study.

For example, in a kindergarten classroom we stacked these teaching points together for an oral storytelling unit to launch writing workshop.

• Everyone has a story to tell.
• Writers tell stories from their lives.
•  Writers can tell stories about one time their families.
• Writers can begin stories with the words, "One time."
•  Writers can tell stories about one time with a friend.
• Writers tell parts of stories using the words, One time...then...finally."
•  Writers can tell stories about one time with an animal.
• Writers can tell the exciting part of the story by using the word, "Suddenly."
• Writers can tell stories by using their fingers to remind them of one time...then...then...suddenly...finally.

Here is a card I made as a concrete reminder for students to tell stories with different parts. I took a photo of it before I added felt dots to each finger to make it more tactile and interactive for students to touch each finger while telling their own stories. We could also send them home with students to encourage oral storytelling outside of the school (and give parents a tool to help tell stories at home).

What about you? What were some of your recent teaching points with the writers you work with? I think it would be fun for us to make a collection of teaching points in the comments. Go ahead and add one -- you can even make it up right now!

practical joker

"Ask Sam what he did to me today," Andy said as we were driving to a soccer game.

I look over my shoulder and Sam winks at me. "It was a good one, Mom."

I asked him to write the story for blog readers. (Stop back on Friday where I share my thoughts as a writing teacher of his story. Right now, just know as a Momma, I'm thrilled he was willing to write something I asked him to write under a deadline. Normally he only writes his own ideas on his own timeline!)

"You should have seen him," Andy said, "I looked over and he was rolling on the floor."

"Yeah, I just about died from laughing," Sam confirmed.

"Did Noah help you?" I asked.

"Ohhh, no!" Sam said, his blue eyes round. "I had to keep it a secret from everyone. I didn't want Dad to know."

"Really? Well, then how did you think of doing that?"

His smile gets even bigger. "Captain Underpants! You always find useful things when you read."

We laughed some more. He's funny.

"Maybe we should be a little scared," Andy said low-quiet so his voice wouldn't carry to the backseat. I lift my eyebrows. "He's really good at pulling off practical jokes and he's seven. Just wait. You might not be laughing so hard next time!"

blending research

Something that has been stirring inside of me for awhile now is the way research is an integral part of a writers life. It doesn't matter the genre you are writing; research is critical. As teachers it is easy to put "research" in its own box; devoting time to it in a unit of study, but not truly tapping the power of it as a writer.

I realized this when I first embarked on writing fiction. I was surprised to find myself consistently using my research skills to complete my draft. I've been dabbling with this in classrooms. As often as possible, I beg ask teachers to let me bring research into their current unit of study.

I'm on a quest to break down the walls surrounding research in classrooms.

After Sam and I finished reading The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, we faced the acknowledgments. Line after line filed his research that impacted his fictional story. He directed us to websites to learn more, he shared museums he studied, he listed actual films that influenced his choices as a writer. Research impacted his story.

The Invention of Hugo Cabret by
Brian Selznick (Scholastic)

Research impacts narrative. Research impacts persuasion. And I'm thinking these are reciprocal relationships. Story impacts research choices. Opinions impact narrative. I'm playing with these ideas, studying how this plays out for myself as a writer, for professional writers, and for our youngest writers. I'm thinking about what this means when filtered through Common Core Standards.

Yes, this is the beginning of a new professional project. Where it will lead, I'm not sure. It is prickling my mind, making me ask questions, and tugging on Mission Story.

hugo cabret

The Invention of Hugo
Cabret by Brian Selznick
(Scholastic)

We gave Sam The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick for Christmas. Sam and I have been reading it together ever since. (For the complete story, see my post on Two Writing Teachers.)

This book impacts me as a writer. It impacts my teaching. Here are a few teaching points I can see using Hugo for in minilessons or conferences:

• Pictures and words work together to tell the complete story. There is information in the pictures you can't get from words and information in the words you can't get from pictures.
• The details Selznick selects -- both in pictures and words -- are remarkable. I've found myself thinking about how he is intentional about the bits he decides to disclose. The emotions and clothes and setting and conversations are all very intentional. I think this is a crucial discussion to have with young writers. So often we just want them to add more. Writing is about selecting what you're going to add and being intentional about the details.
• The way internal and external conflict work together is impressive. I want to do this more as a writer. Hugo's world is balancing on  a sliver. He is barely keeping it all together and Selznick makes us live in this place as readers. The external conflict piles and so does the internal conflict. It is the source of tension for the reader and is developed with sophistication and subtlety.
• In the final chapter the point of view changes from third person to first person. It is powerful. I want to try this as a writer -- shifting the point of view within a story. I'd love to see what kids can do with this technique as well.

All in all, it's about being purposeful in crafting the story. I feel like I've been given a gift with this story. I'm  a better writer, teacher, and person from reading it. It inspires me to be purposeful in my writing life.

{Later this week I'm going to share how I see research being an integral part of writing narrative, using The Invention as Hugo Cabret as evidence.}

story = narrative + informational + opinion

Yesterday I had the privilege to hear James Kofi Annan tell his story. He is a survivor of child slavery. After he escaped, he eventually became a business man. Then he left his promising career in order to fight for freedom for Ghana's children. He started Challenging Heights as a place to protect and educate children.

I am moved by his story. It is one made up of nightmares and eventually overcoming them. It is a story of walking away from prestige and money. James' story faces the horrors of this world, and compels me to do everything I can, in my corner of the world, to make it right.

Which makes me think about writing and teaching writers, since that's what makes up much of my little corner of the world. This weekend I spent most of my reading time studying and highlighting and thinking about Common Core State Standards, as well as the PARCC Model Content Framework for ELA. It's not the easiest thing for me to read. I have to drink lots of water and eat Saletine crackers to try to keep my stomach settled. (It doesn't really work.) One of the things that is unsettling to me is the emphasis of nonfiction and opinion reading and writing at the sacrifice of narrative.

Story changes the world.

It is easy to get caught up in the push to prepare students for the big assessment. Our country is currently infatuated by standardized tests. I want students to meet high expectations. I want them to write concisely and conventionally. I want to teach effectively.  I'm on the playing field of public education, so I am compelled to play by the rules laid out by the Department of Education.

Then I am moved by a story like James'. And I remember it is story that will change the world.

It is my quest to make Mission: Story intersect with Common Core State Standards. I think it can be done. It'll take strong shoulders and a little bit of courage. Narrative is the heart of making sense of the the world. Informational is the fodder for understanding the intricacies of the world. And opinion helps us move others into action. James Kofi Annan used all three modes. One is not more important than another. The stories that inspire us eloquently combine all three. Here's to making our writing workshops do the same.