Relating to a book vs. liking it: A(nother) case against “girl books” and “boy books”

At the end of lunch a couple of weeks ago, a group of seventh grade students called me over to their table to tell me that they’d been talking about our read-aloud novel, Goodbye Stranger by Rebecca Stead, which will come out this August, and they had a suggestion. On double period days, we should read aloud for twice as long as we do on regular days because they were so eager to find out what was going to happen.

“Except not today!” one of them said. “I have to go to the doctor and won’t be there, so you shouldn’t read aloud today at all!”

Then, during class that afternoon, I tried to stop after a particularly juicy chapter ending, and everyone begged me to keep going.

That’s exactly the way I want read alouds to go. I want students to be excited to talk about our read-aloud books and to look forward to the next chapter. And I’m especially happy that Goodbye Stranger has been so popular because at first I wasn’t sure whether or not I should use it.

9780375990984That’s not to say that I didn’t immediately fall in love with Goodbye Stranger, because as soon as I got to read an advance copy, I did. I adore the cast of well-developed characters and the poignant friend and family dynamics. I’ve used Rebecca Stead’s last two novels, When You Reach Me and Liar and Spy, as read alouds in the past, and Goodbye Stranger includes a lot of the same features that made those other two books work so well to read aloud: beautiful writing, lovable characters, thought-provoking ideas, and a puzzle for readers to work out.

But When You Reach Me and Liar and Spy appealed equally to boys and girls, and when I first read Goodbye Stranger, I wondered whether boys would like it as much as girls would. A lot of the novel is about the changing friendship dynamics of three seventh grade girls–Bridge, Tab, and Emily–as Tab discovers feminism and Emily starts to get a whole lot of attention from an eighth grade boy, and I wondered if the novel would be as much of a whole-class crowd pleaser as I wanted it to be. When I stopped and thought about it, though, I realized that there was plenty in this novel that would engage the whole class; there’s a mystery high school character who slowly reveals why she is so upset that she’s skipping school on Valentine’s Day, there’s a boy who can’t understand why his grandfather left his grandmother and his whole family out of nowhere, there’s a girl trying to make sense of what it means that she survived a terrible accident even though medical professionals told her she shouldn’t have, and there’s some powerful exploration of the kind of peer pressure and bullying that can happen over texting and social media. It’s an excellent book, and I believed that it was worth sharing.

A week or so after we started Goodbye Stranger, author Shannon Hale wrote a powerful20708771 blog post called No Boys Allowed: School visits as a woman writer. This post has rightfully received a whole lot of attention, so you may have seen it already. In the post, Hale describes her experience visiting a school where she presented to all of the elementary school students but only the girls from the middle school; middle school boys were not excused from their regular classes. One middle school boy who had loved one of her books got special permission to attend, but he was too embarrassed to come. And another elementary school boy wanted to wait until everybody else had left–even his teachers–before asking Hale if she had a copy of The Princess in Black, the book she had read from at the end of her presentation.

This school had sent a message to boys, loud and clear: they were not supposed to want to read books about girls, written by female authors.

Excluding boys from a female author’s presentation is an extreme example of a problem with the way we present reading options to boys and girls. But Hale also discusses subtler examples: “[W]hen giving books to boys, how often do we offer ones that have girls as protagonists? (Princesses even!) And if we do, do we qualify it: ‘Even though it’s about a girl, I think you’ll like it.’ Even though. We’re telling them subtly, if not explicitly, that books about girls aren’t for them. Even if a boy would never, ever like any book about any girl (highly unlikely) if we don’t at least offer some, we’re reinforcing the ideology.” She then points out that while lots of people might tell boys they’ll like The Hunger Games “even though” it’s about a girl, people probably wouldn’t tell girls they’ll enjoy the Harry Potter books “even though” Harry is a boy.

Reading that part of Hale’s post, I realized that I was guilty of some of that same thinking; I had questioned whether or not boys would like Goodbye Stranger since parts of it are about female friendship dynamics, but I probably wouldn’t have questioned whether or not girls would like a book about male friendship dynamics. And as Hale explains, that kind of thinking suggests that the male experience is somehow more universal and more important than the female one, and it contributes “[t]o a culture that tells boys and men, it doesn’t matter how the girl feels, what she wants […]. No one expects you to have to empathize with girls and women. As far as you need be concerned, they have no interior life.” Clearly, this is not the message anyone wants to send. It’s not fair to boys or to girls.

After reading Hale’s article, I was feeling relieved that I’d gone ahead and chosen Goodbye Stranger for our read aloud, but then we reached a scene in which two female characters, Tab and Em, have a disagreement. In the scene, Bridge, Tab, and Em, three of the book’s main characters, are in a convenience store, brainstorming ideas for their Halloween costumes, and an eighth grade boy named Patrick walks in with some of his friends. Patrick and Em have been texting each other increasingly daring photos of themselves, and Bridge and Tab don’t understand what Em is doing and think she should stop immediately. Patrick’s last photo was of his bedroom doorknob, and when Patrick walks over to the girls, Tab says, “Nice doorknob.” As soon as Patrick and his friends leave the store, Em gets angry with Tab.

When we finished reading that chapter, one student said he thought Em had overreacted when she got mad at Tab for mentioning the photo to Patrick. Other students immediately jumped to Em’s defense, explaining why she was so embarrassed by Tab’s comment and why Tab should have known better. As we debated the issue, it became clear that most of the boys in the class thought Em had overreacted and most of the girls in the class took her side. We talked about why that might be, and it came out that more of the girls in the class could relate to Em.

Prompted by that conversation, I shared Shannon Hale’s blog post with the class. The students were surprised to read about Hale’s experience, and as we talked about the article, one student’s comment really struck me: “Relating to a book and liking a book aren’t the same thing. I don’t need to relate to something to like it.” So even though some of the boys didn’t really relate to Em, that didn’t mean they weren’t as into the book, or that they were getting any less out of reading it.

And actually, that scene led the class to talk about some pretty important ideas: things like how much confidentiality we expect when we share a secret with a friend, and what happens when somebody thinks they’re teasing but they’ve still done something hurtful, and how it feels when we trust someone and then feel that they’ve betrayed our trust. It was a valuable conversation for everyone in the room, male or female, middle-school-aged or adult.

For me, that conversation amphasized that we do everyone a disservice when we assume that boys won’t enjoy or benefit from reading books that focus on female characters and are written by female authors. In a book as layered as Goodbye Stranger, different readers can find different aspects to connect to, and even if there are some elements that some readers don’t connect to, that doesn’t mean that the book isn’t for them. We need to trust that kids can select the books they want to read without confusing the matter by telling boys that certain assemblies aren’t for them, or by creating book covers that appeal to some potential readers but alienate others. And we need to trust that good books are good books, period.

Student-Author Interview 13: Robin Herrera

9781419710391_s3Back in the summer of 2010, I was just starting my MFA at Vermont College of Fine Arts, and Robin Herrera was graduating. At Robin’s graduate reading, she read a funny, poignant excerpt from a novel about a girl named Star Mackie, and I was hooked. I couldn’t wait to read more about Star, so I was thrilled last year when Robin’s book came out and I finally could!

Hope Is a Ferris Wheel tells the story of Star, an unforgettable character who lives in a trailer park with her mom and her older sister Winter, writes hilarious vocabulary sentences that she doesn’t turn in to her somewhat clueless teacher, and says things like, “Heavenly donuts!” Star is determined to find real friends and convince everyone her layered haircut is not a mullet, and she starts a poetry club with an unlikely crew of members: two boys named Eddie and Langston, who are stuck in detention, and a sweet girl named Genny plus Genny’s grumpy brother Denny. When a couple of surprising revelations shake up Star’s view of her family, she turns to Emily Dickinson’s poetry to find a new kind of hope.

Sixth graders Emma, Mia, and Carly read Hope Is a Ferris Wheel and had some excellent questions for Robin.

First, here’s what the girls liked most about the book:

Carly: I really liked how the book always left me wondering, especially about
Winter. I also liked how Star learned to live with things not going her way, and I liked how she ranted about her life in her vocabulary sentences.

Mia: I liked how when Star thought something was going to be so good it turnedemma.mia.carly (1) copy out awful, and when she thought something was going to be awful it turned out to be good. I also liked how she learned from Winter that you can’t always get help from other people and sometimes you have to rely on yourself.

Emma: I liked the ending with the postcard and how it made me wonder what would happen next. It was funny how Star wanted to start a club because the club kept not being what she wanted, like she first wanted a trailer park club and then an Emily Dickinson club. I liked how the club ended up being a poetry club and Eddie helped her, and I liked when her teacher finally read her vocabulary sentences.

And here’s what they wondered about HOPE IS A FERRIS WHEEL and Robin’s writing process:

Carly: Was the book inspired by your childhood in any way?

Only a little bit. While I never lived in a trailer park, I did live in an area with a lot of trailers, and had a close friend who lived in a trailer—though not in a trailer park! Her family owned some land, and instead of a house, they had a trailer.

A few of the details, like Star shopping at thrift stores and her admiration of Winter, were definitely based on my childhood. My sister and I didn’t have a great relationship like Star and Winter have, though. We didn’t get along until we’d grown up.

Mia: How long did it take you to write the book? How long have you been writing?

It took me six months to write the first draft, and I spent about three and a half years revising the book over and over before my agent sold it. I’ve been writing for about ten years now, even though Hope Is a Ferris Wheel is the first book I ever finished writing!

Emma: Did you have your plot already planned out or did it come to you as you were writing?

I only had a few details of the plot planned. This book definitely did NOT have an outline, which I don’t normally like to do! I wrote the book in chunks and figured things out as I went, but it did make revising MUCH harder. I’m working on another book right now and I had a pretty detailed outline for it.

Mia and Carly: If you were to make a sequel, where would it start and what would be included? Or if the book had an epilogue what would be included?

Note: if you haven’t read HOPE IS A FERRIS WHEEL yet, you might want to skip over the second paragraph of Robin’s answer.

I do have an idea for a sequel, though I’m struggling to write it. It’s more of a companion, which is kind of like a sequel but usually just involves the same characters. The companion would follow Eddie immediately after the end of Hope Is a Ferris Wheel, and his struggles with school, his life, and co-running the newly-minted Poetry Club. There would also be a lot of Langston. Star would be a more minor character. I’m hoping I’ll get it written someday!

I can tell you about Winter, if you’re curious. Around the time I finished the first draft of Hope, I found out my sister was pregnant with her first child. That kind of informed a lot of what I thought Winter would do, so in my mind Winter keeps her child, a boy, and moves out of the trailer into another trailer in Treasure Trailers. She’d keep up with school and eventually move out of the trailer park, too, and Star would be the world’s greatest babysitter.

Emma: Did you come up with the poems that Star, Eddie, Genny, and the others write? How did you come up with them?

I did! They were very fun to write.

I like poetry, but I really love writing it. The problem is, I write silly, funny poems. But it turned out that worked perfectly for this book!

Genny’s haikus are similar to the ones I wrote when I first learned about haikus. Star’s poems were very much keyed off of Emily Dickinson’s, filtered through her own innocence. Langston’s, of course, was very easy to write!

Carly: Why does Denny have such a problem with Star and Winter?

Why indeed? The short answer is that he’s kind of a stick in the mud. Very serious, very ordinary, and very resistant to change. He’s also very protective of his sister, and doesn’t want her becoming the “free spirit” kind of person she’s becoming. So since he doesn’t like people who are too different, he doesn’t like Winter. And since he doesn’t want his sister becoming too different, he doesn’t like Star, whom he thinks is pulling his sister in that direction.

And last but not least, the girls had a lot of questions about when Robin was in middle school!

Mia: Did you have to write vocabulary sentences as a kid and did you like them?

Yes I did! And I loved vocabulary sentences. I had a game I’d play with myself whenever we got a fresh batch of vocabulary words. Basically I’d try and “hide” the vocabulary word in the sentence, make it feel as natural as possible, so that if someone read the sentence, they wouldn’t be able to tell which word was the vocabulary word. So this resulted in some very long, rambling, or convoluted sentences, much like Star’s.

Emma: Did you ever not turn in vocabulary sentences or any other assignments?

There were assignments I didn’t turn in, though not purposefully, like Star. In 5th and 6th grade I was actually a very bad student and hardly turned anything in! My family was going through a pretty rough time, so I never got in trouble for it, really… but after the rough times, when I entered 7th grade, I did a complete 180 and started turning in all my work. Weird, huh?

Mia: Did you ever start a club?

No, although I was a “founding member” of a club in high school. We were called “The Movie Crew,” and we’d go see a movie every Friday, all through high school. The group grew in numbers, but always retained a core group of about four of us. We even had shirts and hats!

Carly: Star doesn’t like her teacher Mr. Savage and wishes Miss Fergusson were her teacher. Did you have any teachers like Mr. Savage or Miss Fergusson? Did you have any teachers that you didn’t like, or were there any teachers you wished you had but didn’t?

My 5th/6th grade teacher was very similar to Miss Fergusson. Her name was Ms. Lawson and she had that same tough but fair demeanor, underneath which she was very sweet and really cared about all her students.

I never had a teacher like Mr. Savage, but I did have some bad teachers. One of my teachers in high school I think judged me harshly because he’d had my sister. (She was normally a great student, but he had her when she was a senior, after she’d already gotten into her college of choice, so she often blew off his class.) I had another teacher who often said mean things—not about me, but about other races and cultures. He was old as dirt, so no one ever called him out on it, but now I wish I had. I also had a teacher in college who for some reason didn’t like me. I never figured out why, either.

Emma: Did you ever have a friend who had a sibling who didn’t like you, like Star has with Genny and Denny?

I can’t think of anyone, actually! But my sister hated all of my friends. Does that count?

Thanks so much for writing HOPE IS A FERRIS WHEEL and answering our questions, Robin! Oh, and if you’ve read Robin’s book (or if you want to, now that you’ve read this interview), you should check out Robin’s awesome blog posts that include her drawings for all of her characters! Here’s the one for Star, and she has posts with drawings of her other characters too: http://robinherrera.com/hope-is-a-ferris-wheel-star-mackie/

Why Teach Analytical Writing?

Welcome back for the final installment of my series on teaching analytical writing. If you’re new to the series, you can check out my series introduction, which provides some context, and the next three posts in which I explained how I break down the essay writing process to teach analytical paragraphs, thesis statements and topic sentences, and introductions and conclusions. Now I want to wrap up by considering why analytical writing is important to teach and learn.

When my seventh grade students started to work on their essays this winter, a student raised his hand and asked, “Why are we doing this?”

One of his classmates spoke up, reminding him that the essay was important because I’d said it was worth 100 points and that was more than most of the writing assignments they worked on.

Another chimed in, too. “And she said we’ll have to write lots of essays in high school, so we need to learn how to do them now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” the first student said. “But why? Why is it worth so much, and why will we write so many in high school?”

The question of why the assignment was worth so much had a simple answer: we were going to work on it for a long time, and I tend to determine how much an assignment is worth based on how long we spend on it. But I had to stop and think for a while before I could answer the rest of his question. I ended up telling him that each discipline at school teaches critical thinking in some way, and in English class, students learn to think critically by analyzing passages, recognizing patterns and symbols, and seeing what they can notice by breaking down sentences and focusing on the effects of individual words and sounds. I explained that essays ask students to analyze, synthesize, and evaluate, and these are sophisticated skills that will help them with other complex tasks and problems throughout their lives. I pointed out that writing an analytical essay forces students to slow down and look very closely at small chunks of text, and in a world of overstimulation and constant rushing, it’s valuable to learn to slow down. And I said that it’s important to know the basic rules of a genre of writing so that you can use them when they work for you and break them when they don’t.

The student seemed satisfied by my response (I even asked him to paraphrase what I’d said a few classes later and he remembered the gist of my answer) but the truth is, I’m not sure that I’m completely satisfied with it. I know that academic discourse isn’t without problems. When I studied Rhetoric, Composition, and the Teaching of English in graduate school, I read a lot of articles about how academic discourse tends to privilege those who come from positions of power–students whose parents went to college before them, students who get to attend elementary and secondary schools that have lots of resources, and students who speak English at home. I learned about the code-switching that has to happen when students use one kind of language at home and have to learn to use another, more authoritative and definite, academic language at school. And the bottom line is, even with all of my methodical, color-coded handouts, there are kids who still really struggle to grasp the accepted conventions of analyzing texts.

The best compromise I can come up with is to be as transparent as possible as I break down the essay writing process, to share lots and lots of examples, to allow students to push the boundaries of the form when they want to, and to give students other, more informal and creative ways to respond to texts as well, whether in writing or in conversation.

And in the future, I’m going to pose the question that one seventh grader posed this year; I’m going to ask students why they think they need to do this kind of writing, and what they think they learn from it. I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on the reasons for writing analytical essays, as well, and I hope you’ve found this series helpful! Tune in later this week when I’ll post an exciting new student-author interview!

Teaching Analytical Writing: Introductions and Conclusions

Now that I’ve described the way I teach students to write the core of an essay (by constructing an essay skeleton and crafting TIQA paragraphs), I’m ready to discuss the last two essay elements: the introduction and conclusion.

Yes, the introduction comes first, and when I write my own essays, I usually start with it. But when students are learning how to write essays, I find that it works best to tackle the introduction after the body of the essay is mostly set. That way, students don’t spend time getting the introduction just right and then have to scrap it if their main points change or if they end up repeating something from the introduction in one of their body paragraphs.

The way I see it, a traditional analytical introduction has four main elements: a hook, a link, some summary, and the thesis. Here’s a document I use to teach introductions. It offers more details about these four elements, breaks down some possible types of hooks, and provides an example introduction. Students can think of the introduction as an inverted triangle with the point at the bottom; it starts somewhat general and relatable and then gets more specific.

The conclusion, on the other hand, is shaped like a right-side-up triangle with the point at the top. (Although not literally, of course. Literally it’s just shaped like yet another blocky paragraph.) Conclusions are tricky because it’s boring if they merely repeat the points of the essay without offering anything new, but it’s confusing if they suddenly bring up a brand new topic.

Here’s a document that offers some specific strategies for conclusions and includes an example conclusion. Basically, a conclusion should recap the essay’s main ideas, ideally without being too repetitive, and then it should consider the broader implications of the essay’s topic, come to some kind of evaluation of the literary work in question, and/or come full-circle back to the hook.

When I talk to students about structuring traditional, five-paragraph-or-so analytical essays, I often think back to when I was in middle school, when we were working on essays and a classmate said he already knew how to write them. “You just tell ‘em what you’re gonna tell ‘em; then you tell ‘em, tell ‘em, tell ‘em; then you tell ‘em what you told ‘em,” he announced.

Oversimplified? Definitely. But in a very basic sense, my middle school classmate was mostly correct. The introduction “tells ‘em what you’re gonna tell ‘em.” The body paragraphs “tell ‘em, tell ‘em, tell ‘em.” The conclusion “tells ‘em what you told ‘em.” The other resources I’ve provided here offer some concrete information about how to do all that telling, and I hope they’ve been helpful! I’ll have one more installment of this series: a post that asks the question “Why teach analytical writing?” and summarizes my thoughts.

Student-Author Interview 12: Rachel M. Wilson

Today I’m thrilled to welcome the smart and charming Rachel M. Wilson for our latest student-author interview! Rachel is a fellow VCFA alum, and her debut Don’t Touch came out in September of 2014 with HarperTeen. Rachel also has a short story called “The Game of Boys and Monsters” out as a digital short from HarperTeen Impulse. Don’t Touch tells the story of Caddie, a talented actress who is struggling with OCD. Caddie’s parents have recently split up, and she believes that if she can keep from touching anyone else’s skin, they might get back together. Caddie longs to play Ophelia in her school’s production of Hamlet, but that would mean touching—and kissing—a boy named Peter.

Don’t Touch is a powerful, satisfying novel that depicts Caddie’s compelling journey and features an endearing cast of secondary characters. It also ends with one of the most compassionate, informative author’s notes I’ve ever read. Lily, Olivia, Casey, and Mary read the book and had some great questions for Rachel.

lily and oliviaFirst, here’s what the students especially liked about DON’T TOUCH, with Rachel’s response:

Lily: I like that the book is realistic fiction but there’s a mysterious side because of Caddie’s sort of magical idea that if she keeps her gloves on and doesn’t touch anybody she can make her dad come home.

Olivia: I liked how much I could sympathize with Caddie and connect with her even though her situation is unusual. I know that situations like hers really do happen.

Casey: I like how the book introduces Caddie’s phobia and how the reader gets casey and maryto experience what she’s going through.

Mary: I really like how descriptive the book is and how it describes Caddie’s feelings, especially.

Rachel: Thanks so much, you guys! It means a lot to me to hear that the book connected with you.

Now for some questions about the book and writing in general:

Lily: Have you ever been in Hamlet, and if so what part did you have?

I’ve never been in Hamlet, though I do LOVE the play and have seen it many times. I’ve never acted in any full Shakespeare production. In acting class in college, I did scenes as Macbeth (yes, Mr. Macbeth), Helena from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Lady Anne from Richard III. In high school I almost had the chance to play Juliet, but I went to a small school and all the boys who might have played Romeo played basketball instead of auditioning.

Olivia: Did you base the book of off your personal experience with OCD, theater, or both? Is Caddie based on any real people you know?

I do have personal experience with both OCD and theater, though the story in the book is very different from my own. My own OCD started around age 10, and at first it had a lot to do with a fear that I might catch a disease (sometimes a fantastical disease, like, I was afraid that touching a daddy long legs spider might make my legs start growing long and never stop). Later, I had some magical thinking of my own—I had rituals like focusing on a certain color while blinking, and if I messed those up, I’d worry that something horrible would happen to people I cared about. So there’s a lot of me in Caddie, but her particular fears and her friends and family situation are made up—all of that fiction has to do triple duty in being believable, serving the plot, and serving as metaphors for what’s going on inside Caddie.

I’ve always loved theater—I love it as a storyteller, and like Caddie, I love it as a way to experiment with a different way of being. I’ve always enjoyed playing at dramatic or extreme situations that rarely happen in real life. For my younger self, playing a character who was brave or outspoken or free was almost like practice for being that way in real life.

Mary: I read the Q and A part in the back so I know that you’ve had anxiety like Caddie. I was wondering if it was hard for you to write about anxiety since you have experienced it, even though the book isn’t about you and your personal experiences?

That’s a great question, and I’m going to answer it from two different angles. On the one hand, it was a pleasure for me to write about it because I know it so well and because it’s been a big part of my experience. It didn’t cause me anxiety to write about Caddie’s, though I sometimes felt along with her when I was into a scene. On the other hand, because I am close to it, it was challenging to make sure that what was in my head was getting across on the page. When you’re writing about something you know well, you sometimes have to do more research to ensure that you aren’t taking shortcuts and that what seems obvious to you will get across to a reader who may not have direct experience with your subject.

Casey: How long did it take for you to write the book?

That’s hard to say. I wrote twenty pages about a girl named Caddie many years before I wrote a draft of the book. When I did draft the whole book, it took about a year, but that first draft was very different from the final version—at one point, Caddie was a ballet dancer and had a manatee friend that she visited in Florida. It was a whole other story. I rewrote the book over the next year and then spent another two or three years with revision.

Olivia: What was your writing process like? When you were writing this book, did you have a writer’s group? Did you outline it?

I was in the MFA program at Vermont College of Fine Arts while I was first drafting the book, and my first mentor made me outline it, which I found very difficult. The final book is nothing like that first outline, but it gave me somewhere to go, and I probably wouldn’t have made it through a first draft without the outline. I wrote the book in a pretty patchwork way, working on scenes out of order, exploring in different directions, and writing new outlines each time something major shifted in the plot … Basically, I made a big mess and eventually put it back together again. I didn’t have a steady writer’s group, but I did bring pieces of the book to workshops at Vermont College, where I received helpful feedback, and I had a few friends read the whole book and give me notes.

Lily and Mary: Did people suggest that you make big changes about how you wrote the book, and if so did you listen to them? Did the plot change, either minorly or drastically, throughout the process of writing and editing the book?

Yes! As you might already have been able to tell, the book went through several pretty drastic changes before I ever tried to sell it. My first draft included many big plot threads all tangled up together, almost like I was writing two or three different books at once. My last mentor at VCFA, Martine Leavitt, gave me great guidance in focusing the plot. She suggested I pull out the threads that felt strongest and most central to the story and rewrite around those. Then, when I worked with my editors at HarperTeen, they had tons of smart ideas, especially about spending more time with several of the relationships in the book. There were some suggestions for changes along the way that I didn’t agree with—I think that’s bound to happen—but sometimes what’s bothering a reader isn’t the choice you’ve made but that you haven’t executed or supported it well enough. Sometimes instead of totally changing a scene that I liked, I was able to revise so that it worked better and earned its keep.

Lily: Would you ever write a sequel to the book or a book from a secondary character’s perspective? If so, what character’s perspective would you choose?

I doubt that will really happen, but I’ve thought about it—I’d be interested to explore what happens between Peter and Caddie next, maybe even from his point of view. If I were choosing to write a spin-off solely on the basis of fun, I might choose to do a connected story from Livia’s point of view. She has a refreshing take on the world, and I’d love to play with that more.

And finally, some questions about when Rachel was in middle school:

Olivia: Did you like acting when you were young? Did you go to a special performing arts school?

Yes, I loved acting. I did my first professional play in fifth grade—I was in the angel choir in The Best Christmas Pageant Ever at Birmingham Children’s Theater, and even though it was a little part with no lines, I was in heaven the entire time. The size of the stage and the audiences, the social time with the other kids backstage, and working with adults who were pros all dazzled me. We did annual plays at school, musical ones with limited spoken lines where the whole class sang songs on risers. We would get out of class for rehearsal, and I looked forward to those every year. I didn’t go to a special performing school, but my high school did have an excellent director who chose really sophisticated and challenging plays for us to do—we did Lorca’s The House of Bernarda Alba and Pirandello’s Right You Are (If You Think So). I didn’t always understand them at first, but I learned a lot by trying.

Lily: Did you like to write when you were in middle school?

Sort of. I remember my seventh grade teacher had us keep a morning journal, and I really enjoyed creating characters and stories for that. Sometimes she would have us do creative writing to support larger projects, like writing our own myths or poems, and I loved that kind of assignment. As I remember it though, our opportunities for creative writing were somewhat limited, and I didn’t think to try it on my own. I was super into visual arts and theater at the time, so I sometimes wrote graphic-novel-style journal entries or short plays for fun.

Casey: Were you ever in a writing club or anything like that?

No, I was at such a small school through 7th grade that we didn’t have many clubs. We kind of all did everything. I did work on the class newspaper, though, and that was both fun and full of drama.

Mary: Did you have a nice teacher that inspired you to be a writer or helped you figure out your career path dream?

I’ve had so many nice teachers. Thinking about middle school in particular, I remember being pulled in different directions by several supportive teachers—I was on the math team, working on special projects with the art teacher and the computer teacher, doing theater outside of school, and working on the newspaper I mentioned … In 8th grade, I started working with my new school’s theater director and with the Forensics & Speech teacher. All of these teachers were super-supportive of me and offered me a multitude of activities to try. Even though most of those activities weren’t directly related to writing, they’ve all fed my writing in one way or another. In order to write, you have to have lots of experience to draw on, so trying out a lot of different activities is a great way to go. Even now, I’m not only a writer—I’m an actor and a teacher and a freelancer with lots of odd jobs. I still believe in doing and being more than one thing, and maybe that started back in middle school.596343

Thanks so much for joining us and for giving us such thoughtful, interesting
answers, Rachel!

Readers can use the following links to find out more about Rachel and check out
some great resources for DON’T TOUCH, like a book club guide and a REALLY awesome book trailer!

http://www.rachelmwilsonbooks.com

Publisher’s book page: http://www.harpercollins.com/9780062220936/dont-touch

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13597757-don-t-touch

Book Club Guide: http://www.rachelmwilsonbooks.com/blog/book-club-guide-for-dont-touch

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qs1BolrrRyw

Author photo by Evan Hanover 

Teaching Analytical Writing: Essay Skeletons

Hi there! I’m back with the third installment of my series on teaching analytical writing. Last time, I explained the TIQA paragraph, which I see as the building block of an analytical essay, and described how I give students a lot of practice writing analytical paragraphs before moving onto essays.

When it’s time to move onto analytical essays, I lay the groundwork in a couple of ways. First, I tell students about the essay topics I plan to give them as we are reading the book they will be writing about. We look out for quotes that relate to those topics together, and I encourage them to look out for additional quotes on their own. That way they’re not starting from scratch when it comes time to find quotes for their essays.

Once we’ve finished the book, I have students choose an essay topic. I can provide scaffolding for students who need it by steering them toward one of the topics we found quotes for during class, while I can encourage other students to branch out to topics we haven’t spent much class time exploring or even to come up with topics on their own.

Next, each student creates an essay skeleton. The essay skeleton includes their thesis statement, their topic sentences, and the quotes they will use in their body paragraphs. (For eighth grade I require that at least one of the body paragraphs includes a second quote and follows the TIQATIQA format. For seventh graders I don’t require a double TIQA paragraph, but some students choose to write them.)

The essay skeleton provides the core of the essay that students will be writing. It isn’t too difficult for me to give prompt feedback to each student on a thesis statement, topic sentences, and quotes, and I find that it’s worth it to look at these elements of their essays before they move forward with drafting. The bottom line is, it’s impossible to write a successful essay without a decent thesis or with quotes that don’t match up with the thesis.

So how do you teach students to write a good thesis statement? Here is my explanation of thesis statements, adapted from a handout I made for seventh graders writing essays about Howard Fast’s novel April Morning. If students are struggling to grasp thesis statements, it can work well to create some faulty thesis statements, model the process of fixing one, and then have students work together to fix another.

Interested in tips for explaining topic sentences? Here’s my explanation of topic sentences, using the same example thesis from the April Morning thesis resource. It can work well to have the class practice breaking down a model thesis into effective topic sentences before students try to write their own.

Once students have their essay skeletons, they draft their body paragraphs, using the TIQA format, and then after that, we move on to introductions and conclusions. Next time I’ll explain my reasoning for leaving the introduction and conclusion until the end, and I’ll share handouts I use for those two parts of the essay.

Teaching Analytical Writing: The TIQA Paragraph

Welcome back to my series on teaching analytical writing! Before I assign an analytical essay, I give students plenty of practice with the main building block of an analytical essay: the analytical body paragraph. I’ve tried a few different acronyms for the analytical paragraph format, such as PIE (point, illustration, explanation) or TEE + T (topic sentence, example, explanation plus transition). I now use TIQA (topic sentence, introduction of quote, quote, analysis of quote) and recommend it for students who are in seventh grade or older.

First, I remind students that analytical paragraphs show opinion, but without using first or second person, and that the convention is to use present tense to discuss the events of a literary work. Then I break down what each part of the acronym means (the starred elements are optional):

T: The topic sentence must lay out the main point for the whole paragraph. It is an umbrella sentence for the paragraph, meaning that everything in the paragraph fits underneath it.

I: The introduction of the quote establishes what has just happened before the quote, what is happening now, where the characters are, who’s involved in the conversation, etc.

Q: The quote must make sense on its own and be properly punctuated, with a signal phrase (such as “Mabel narrates”) or signal sentence (such as “Mabel explains what happens next”) before it and a page number in parentheses after it. The quote is the core of an analytical paragraph, not just an example that’s wedged into the writer’s thoughts. It should ideally be under four lines of text to avoid dealing with pesky block quote format.

A: The analysis of the quote should be the longest and most detailed part of the paragraph. In the analysis, the writer should focus on specific words and phrases from the quote and carefully explain how those words and phrases support the point from the topic sentence.

T*: The transition sentence offers a transition between the writer’s first and second quote.

I*: Introduction of quote 2

Q*: Quote 2

A*: Analysis of quote 2

With middle school students, I think it’s worth the time investment to do several practice analytical paragraphs before asking students to write a literary essay that includes multiple analytical paragraphs. I tend to follow the “I do, we do, you do” rule of teaching writing, so usually I will provide an example of a paragraph that I have written, then we will write one together as a class as I project it on the board, and then I will have students write their own. Lately I have also been doing some partnered paragraphs so that students can help each other grasp the concept.

I also provide scaffolding by providing options for topic sentences at first, because some students have a difficult time coming up with a statement that includes enough opinion and sets them up to analyze. Usually I don’t have students try TIQATIQA paragraphs with two quotes until they have mastered single TIQAs. Once they have started to practice writing these paragraphs, it’s a good idea to brainstorm lists of good verbs for analytical writing (such as show, convey, portray, depict, emphasize, hint, suggest, reveal, etc.).

It tends to take a lot of practice before students really grasp how to break down quotes into key parts and analyze them. We practice doing this in class discussions as well as in writing, and in my experience, this is a skill that most students are ready to work on in seventh grade, but in sixth grade I stick with a format like TEE + T (topic sentence, example, explanation plus transition) and don’t worry quite so much about introducing quotes with correct signal phrases or sentences or writing truly analytical explanations of quotes.

Here is a color-coded Example TIQA about the novel April Morning. Next time I’ll explain how I use “essay skeletons” to get students ready to write essays.