Build Trust to Build Writers

Fostering growth in a writing workshop

“I guess I’m just not that good of a writer.”

I sat across from Abby, listening to her mutter those words as she responded to my explanation of why she received an 82% on her short story. I stumbled over my reply and the rising brick wall between us. “But you have so much potential here. You just need to depend less on exposition for characterization.” A little frantic as I surmised my words’ impact was shallow, I said, “You could rewrite. Earn some points back.”

But it was too late. I read her eyes and knew that she viewed the grade on her paper as the omnipotent preacher of her worth. She explained to me that she took my Creative Writing class to become a better writer, but she realized that after a semester, she was just simply a B writer after all. With that, she shrugged, grabbed her paper, and walked back to her table while I sat there speechless.

Students define their worth by those letters we teachers place on top of their paper — sometimes carefully, accompanied by feedback; sometimes hurriedly, right before class starts or late in the evening before bed. These grades are intended to inform students of their skill level, parents of their children’s progress, colleagues of achievement, and community of accolades.

But are grades really achieving all of these purposes?

In Abby’s case, absolutely not. She saw her 82% as validation of her writing ineptitude. What she didn’t realize was that the two of us had the same goal: to see growth. Yet somewhere in the translation of my lesson plans and assessment strategies, this idea got lost.

I believe my classroom must be centered around student growth and free from worries about the lingering numbers on the top of the paper. But in a writing classroom, student growth takes time.

This is what I have come to understand:

1. For students to grow and learn, they need effective, personalized feedback. I’ve been studying this and have found that feedback on their writing needs to be focused on growing and learning, and this feedback needs to be timely and student-centered. I must dismiss what I need to tell them and instead focus on what I know they need. Focusing on what they need in that moment allows writers to feel heard.
2. When students feel heard, relationships deepen in the classroom, creating a sense of community. Building trust among writers is one of the most vital components to fostering writing response groups and teacher conferences. This trust encourages vulnerability and more meaningful conversations about writing.
3. When community is established, the class develops a sense of common purpose. Everyone in the room works toward helping themselves and their peers grow in their learning. This purpose enhances students’ ownership of the process and that ownership fosters growth.

When I realized these things, I saw both the complexity and simplicity of student growth in learning — they need to be intrinsically motivated, and I must also provide the classroom atmosphere for that growth to happen.

With Abby, I made mistakes. She wasn’t receiving the timely feedback she needed from me to facilitate her growth. And without that feedback, she didn’t build the necessary trust and relationship for her to feel heard — a crucial need for all writers. She focused on the grade only because my assessments were designed for product, not process. Despite developing a strong community of writers, the rest fell apart without all necessary components.

What I know from this experience is that I won’t let that happen again. Building each writer and meeting them where they need to be is my responsibility, one that I will work toward achieving all year.