I Changed How I Taught Writing. Here’s What Happened.
I Changed How I Taught Writing. Here’s What Happened.
When I first started teaching writing through a Writer’s Workshop model, I wasn’t completely convinced it was going to work.
I understood the basic idea: a short mini-lesson, time for students to write independently, opportunities for teacher conferences, and time to share. But as a teacher who actually had to implement this, I had a lot of questions and hesitations. How was I supposed to fit all of that into an already packed ELA block? What would students actually do during all of the independent writing time? How would I meet with every student to individually conference? How would I know whether all of that writing time was actually helping students become better writers?
What eventually convinced me to give Writer’s Workshop a real chance was my students. My students also had plenty to say. They could participate in group discussions, partner talk, and Socratic Seminars. But when it came time to put those ideas onto paper, many of them struggled. Some of my students didn’t know how to get started, some were afraid of making mistakes. I had a lot of students who were still mastering the English language and would spend a lot of time trying to get their sentences “right.” Sadly, some of my students just didn’t see themselves as writers.
I realized that if I wanted my students to become better writers, I needed to give them more opportunities to actually write, and I needed to set up that structure in my classroom. This led to me changing the way I taught writing.
Writer’s Workshop Became a Regular Part of Our Classroom
My Writer’s Workshop typically followed a pretty simple structure:
Mini-Lesson: 5-15 minutes (up to 15 minutes since I taught 7th graders at the time)
Independent Writing & Teacher Conferences: 25-40 minutes
Closing/Sharing: 10 minutes
The overall structure stayed consistent, but what happened inside that structure was different every day. For example, sometimes we were working on personal narratives, or expository pieces, or even creative writing. The mini-lesson might take longer for a new piece of writing to, but always focused on just 1 topic. The topic could be how to effectively use dialogue, or it might focus on how to explain how a piece of evidence connects to your thesis. The point is, a mini-lesson focused on one thing, and explicitly taught that skill in a writing context.
The biggest change for me, however, was what happened during independent writing time.
I Started Conferencing With My Students
I wanted conferencing to be an important part of our Writer’s Workshop, so I focused on creating a system that made this manageable.
First, I had to make it clear to students that independent writing time was for writing. I had to make sure students had a task that they could manage and understand. The mini-lesson was great for setting up students to understand what was being asked of them for the writing.
Then, I set up the classroom environment to be a cozy space to write in. I had enough clipboards for each student to use, and allowed students to move around the room to write. Some chose to sit in corners of the room instead of their desk, some sat next to their friends. Some laid by their desks, and I allowed this as long as they kept their shoes on 🙂 I would turn off one light, play lofi of “coffee shop” music, and sometimes turn on the virtual fireplace on the projector. I allowed students to whisper, but with the understanding that if the volume got loud, the workshop would end early. It became a structure that had to be taught and enforced the first few times, but it became something students loved and respected.
While students were writing, I would meet with students individually for writing conferences. I did not try to meet with every student during every workshop, but instead made it my goal to meet with every student at least once a week.
I created a sign-up sheet where students could put their names down, identify what they wanted feedback on, and then wait for their turn to conference with me. The best part about this is that once students saw the benefit of receiving feedback on their writing, they actually wanted to conference.
I sometimes had to limit how often certain students could sign up, and I started keeping a tracker to make sure I had met with each student at least once before I started meeting with the same students again.
During a conference, I wasn’t grading the student’s paper. I might instead ask: What are you trying to say here? What part of your writing are you most proud of? Where are you getting stuck? What do you want help with?Sometimes students would read their writing aloud to me. Other times we would talk through an idea that hadn’t made it onto their paper yet. Sometimes the conversation was about grammar, organization, or editing.
I also kept notes about our conferences so I could keep track of what I was discussing with students. These conversations taught me things about my students that I couldn’t always see from looking at their finished assignments. For example, my student who might seem incredibly sure of themselves during a Socratic Seminar might struggle to write their first sentence because they are terrified of getting it “wrong.” My student who is learning English had incredibly complex ideas in Spanish, but struggled to translate that into English. It was beneficial for all of us to be able to respond to that in the moment, rather than after the writing assignment is due.
My Students Started Seeing Themselves Differently
One of my favorite transformations was watching my students become less afraid of the writing process. They understood the necessity of a messy first draft. Crossing something out, or receiving feedback about something began to feel less personal, and more like a natural process of writing.
That distinction was so important because I believe we sometimes unintentionally teach students that writing is something they either can or cannot do. Writing is a skill that gets better with instruction, practice, feedback, and revision. Writer’s Workshop gave my students space to experience that process over and over again.
Years Later, I Found the Data
I recently came across assessment data from one of my last years as a classroom teacher. I taught 7th grade ELA that year, then left to pursue my PhD full time, while working remotely as a curriculum developer. Looking back at the data now, a few things catch my eye.
The group of students I taught had an average Writing score of 86.7%. The grade-wide Writing average was 73.3%. That’s a difference of 13.4 percentage points. That was the same across all of the classes I taught that year. For comparison, the Reading average for both groups was 73.3%, while Research/Inquiry averaged 93.3%.
I know test scores only give you one glimpse, but I hadn’t looked at these in a while, specifically for writing. I had taught these students and I remember the work we had done. I remember the conferences, the drafts, the revisions, and the students who put in so much effort. Seeing the numbers years later gave me a different perspective.
Does This Prove Writer’s Workshop Worked?
Not necessarily. There were many factors that contributed to my students’ achievement. I can’t look at this set of data and say that Writer’s Workshop alone caused those scores.
The data did make me stop and think though. The data did reflect what I had experienced in my classroom after I had set out to intentionally teach writing in a new way. The results reflected what I had witnessed and experienced in the classroom every day.
My students were writing regularly, receiving individual feedback, and they were talking about their writing. They were revising. They were writing in different genres. They were spending so much of their time doing the work of actual writers. The data doesn’t necessarily prove that Writer’s Workshop was responsible for the results, but it did give me another reason to look back at what happened in my classroom that year and think, maybe I was onto something…
What I Would Tell Teachers Now
If you’re a teacher who feels like you don’t have enough time to teach writing, or that writing in the age of AI has become extremely difficult, I understand. I worried that spending 30 minutes on independent writing would mean I wasn’t covering enough content. I worried that students would not take the time seriously, and I would have to spend time fighting that. I had a lot of worries!
What I eventually learned was that Writer’s Workshop wasn’t something I had to squeeze into my ELA curriculum. It became the way I taught writing. The mini-lessons gave me an opportunity to explicitly teach the skills students needed. The writing time gave students the opportunity to slow down and practice those skills. The conferences gave me the opportunity to provide individualized feedback.
The sharing time gave students an opportunity to reflect, listen to other writers, and see that there isn’t just one way to approach a piece of writing. Writer’s Workshop actually made my writing instruction more manageable, not less. Most importantly, students had the opportunity to see themselves as writers.
Why I’m Still Talking About Writer’s Workshop
It’s been a few years since I was in that classroom, but Writer’s Workshop continues to influence the way I think about writing instruction. It’s also a big part of why I created InkSanity EDU.
When I started creating my own writing resources, I wasn’t interested in just making another packet that students completed and turned in. I wanted to create resources that could actually fit into a writing classroom. Resources that could support mini-lessons. Resources that could give students meaningful opportunities to write. Resources that could be used during independent writing time. And resources that could make it a little easier for teachers to create a classroom where writing happens regularly.
Students don’t become writers by completing more writing assignments, they become writers by writing. Talking about their writing. Receiving feedback, revising, and taking risks.
