From the Classroom: Organization is an Act of Revision
By Brian Kelley
I’ve always admired my father’s garage. It is organized. Utility shelves on the left. Steel pegboards and hooks on the rear and right walls. Every tool has its place. He knows where everything is, yet he is constantly revising the content of the garage.
My mother keeps adding stuff to the house, and older stuff is belched out to my father into the garage. So, my father makes decisions. He replaces and rearranges. He adds what he must. And he deletes. I know for a fact that he would love to delete a lot more.
When I teach organization to middle school writers, the lessons of my father’s garage must be in the DNA of my methods. Everything has its place. Nothing starts organized, and this includes writing.
Organization is an act of revision.
Three Categories for Teaching Organization
I teach and reteach (depending on the student) fifteen elements of organization. These elements are organized in three categories of five.
I. Structures: sequence, compare-contrast, description, problem-solution, and cause-effect.
Note: These aren’t presented as types of essays or individualized, prescriptive plans. These are structures to snap together like Legos for any essay might include multiple structures. Each structure carries its own short list of transitions. When students can identify that a section of their writing is one of the above, I direct them to make certain that some of the specific transitions find their way into the draft.
II. Common Leads: open with an image, open with an action, open with dialogue, open with an astonishing fact or number, open with a question or quote.
Some of these can be blended. An action can, of course, feel like an image. Dialogue could occur within action, and so on.
III. Common Conclusions; some of these will look familiar: end with an image, end with an action, end with a dialogue, end with a reflection.
When I see writers end with questions, I often think, as a reader, that this endpoint would best served as a reflection by the writer. Yes, I will join him as a reader, but I don’t like when a writer releases me with a question–as if patting my bottom, “Now, off you go! Scoot!”
Of course, there are more than five types of leads, conclusions, and structures. What I offer is a concrete basis of organization and the language to talk about it. And when students find something unusual, something new, I encourage them to bring it in. Let’s discuss what the writer is doing.
Early in the year, the students’ ability to discuss organization can be limited to “what should come first or next,” or “does this hook you as a reader?” Each of these questions matters. Yet, when we expand a student’s ability to talk about organization with specific language and examples, again and again, the students learn that every tool has its place. Replacing, rearranging, adding, and deleting become more specific and nuanced.
We have spent time examining writing from all over. And we look at the leads. We look at the conclusions. We discuss what did the writer do here? What did he blend? Do you notice the writer blending any organizational structures through the piece?
Our exchanges sound like, “Look, in this paragraph there is a bit of narrative in sequence.” Another student might add, “–but here he uses description” while another finishes “–and that sets up three paragraphs of compare and contrast.” I can’t get them to talk about writing enough.
Consider the lead in this draft by one of my students, Cynthia (pseudonym):
Chinatown was awash in light. Red and gold paper lanterns hung off of buildings and criss-crossed the street. They ran back and forth on diagonals, until a steep San Francisco hill carried the road down and down and out of sight. They swung gently in the dry California breeze. Chinese phrases were scattered through the night. The streets were packed with authentic grocery stores, gift shops, laundromats, and restaurants, like sardines in a can. Like sardines bathed in lantern light and detailed with shiny Chinese characters that made no sense to me, but were beautiful all the same. Young children holding their parents’ hands, old men and women, tourists in cheesy t shirts, and locals flowed through the streets, in and out of open-air markets and in and out of tiny, cramped stores.
Cynthia begins her essay with an image. It draws me in. Yes, this hooks me. The strong verbs, sensory language, specific nouns…it is all here. Not to mention the fact that Cynthia is learning to be patient as a writer–perhaps the hardest skill of all to teach.
For the next two paragraphs, Cynthia shares the sequence of events. On a family trip to San Francisco, she accidently stepped on the heel of a man’s shoe and gave him a “flat.” Cynthia was four. The man followed the family into the next shop and berated her.
Cynthia’s essay picks up in the fourth paragraph with a mix of cause-effect and reflection:
What I had done was not that terrible, but for some reason, the look on his face turned me stone cold. I didn’t speak about that night for years, and by the time I did, no one remembered, or had a clue of what I was talking about. It was a something I’ve fruitlessly tried to explain, or even just put into words, just like I’ve tried to explain the distinctive smell of a bitterly cold day, or an oppressively hot one, or the odd quality of iced tea that I dislike, but can’t exactly describe. It is a moment lost to time and memory to everyone but me. Maybe that old man still remembers the little girl who he was almost certain stepped on his heel, but wouldn’t admit to it, but I doubt it. For anyone else there, it was just a random misunderstanding between two total strangers, not even worthy of filing away in their minds. For me, though, it was one of the first times I experienced paralyzing fear. I shouldn’t have been so scared; what would he have done to me anyway, if I did admit to it? I’m sure nothing scarring or life altering, maybe he would have yelled at me, or maybe my parents about respect, or something, but he would have eventually left the store, and we would have gone on walking about the streets of Chinatown. If I had said something, it probably would have been another memory thrown into the void, unremarkable and unremembered, but something about keeping my lips sealed, imprinted that memory in me forever.
This, in my opinion, is essay. This isn’t creative writing anymore than it is prescriptive, prompt-driven writing. This is thinking on paper. I can feel and experience Cynthia thinking as she writes. That is what I identify with as a reader. That is what I connect and reflect with as a writer. I am not at arm’s length. Cynthia has not clipped me loose. She has kept the reader close.
How? Is this an unusually talented fourteen year-old writer? Maybe. But what I do know is that Cynthia was not using these techniques at the beginning of the school year. Her writing did not read like this.
As she has grown to see and practice and understand the tools of organization, as she has come to learn to talk about the tools of organization, she has come to understand how to use them in her writing.
Honestly, this truly is the first emergence of this writer flexing her writing muscles.
I believe that no matter what her memories and experiences throw at her, that Cynthia, like my father, has learned how to replace, rearrange, add, and delete within the context of organizational structures, leads, and conclusions, Think of the complexity of thinking happening here! Think of what her eyes notice. Think of the writing moves she will continue to learn to make irrespective of the assignment, test, or purpose for the writing. The writer has been taught, not the writing.
What Cynthia learned is a process, not a product.
The process of talking about and working with organization has become one of my favorite, recurring conversations with my students. I can see it. I can hear it. Just as I can see my father’s garage and just as I can hear him talking about the ongoing decisions he makes in that garage.
Brian Kelley teachers 8th-grade creative writing at Charles F. Patton Middle School in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania; his podcast about families and heritage “I Remember” can be found on iTunes; you can connect with him on Twitter @_briank_ or on his blog: walkthewalkblog.blogspot.com.
What a wonderful way to explain the process of organization and how to teach that process. I particularly appreciate your emphasis on writing being a process, not just a product. I’m a writing tutor at Kennett High School and I have noticed that organization is a sore spot with most students. I try to encourage these students to get their ideas out in whatever way feels comfortable and productive to them. I emphasize the fact that organization is part of the drafting/revision process. Some students truly benefit from that organized structure and outlined drafting style, but others find getting all of their ideas onto paper and worrying about the order later to be more effective. I think your method for presenting the information and formats to the students is great, and I look forward to implementing some of your ideas!
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I cannot appreciate enough your use of your father’s garage as a metaphor to explain your vision of organization as a means to revise as opposed to strictly a function of planning.
It reminds me of my own revision of my understanding of how the human brain works based on the current scientific thought. It appears that the act of reorganizing the stored building blocks of past experiences while asleep creates the foundation of what we later experience as dreams. Once we realize the reorganization, our narrative-driven mind makes us believe that the random elements fit together purposefully and the ‘dream’ is only right at that moment created (though our mind makes us believe that it had happened previously).
The act of reorganizing is literally the basis for all of our dreams. And it’s beginning to look like memories work the same way.
If dynamism and narrative drive the way we think subconsciously, the notion that we consciously harness these tendencies for our writing only makes sense.
First let me say that I thoroughly enjoyed reading this post. Organization stretches to various aspects of writing, other than the physical structure and delivery of content. I agree with the idea that many students revise and reorganize their paper, for the sole reason of adhering to their one true audience, the rubric. I would be interested in learning more about how to incorporate the “real audience” into class essays and formal assignments. Perhaps giving students the opportunity to have their writing from your class published would allow them to gain a heightened awareness of what a “real audience” functions as. I love the idea of students learning a process, not a product from a teachers class. Harnessing something that can translate into future writing would be a goal in my future classroom. Great post!
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I really enjoyed this. Thanks Brian!
Organization is an entry point into any space. It’s how we understand our position when we enter a room, or the page. We consider how the world around us is organized before we take a step or commit to an act, and, as you say, it’s such a productive way to consider the process of writing in the space of the page. When writers establish, structure, and sustain thought processes, they are absolutely working in a process-garage.
But in this garage analogy, how do we communicate genre and audience to the writer? After all, the process of (re)organizing may be taking place in the writer’s garage, but the space will most certainly be used by someone else: reading is also necessarily built on the reader’s ability to discern the writer’s organization. Effective organization, then, considers audience and genre, so where we place our tools and how we arrange our ideas is always part of revision. How do we help students consider, or re-see, the idea that they’re adding things to communal walls and drawers?
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You’re right, bm819452–audience is an important consideration of revision. Spandel tags it on as one of the Six Traits, but at the end–after writers have revised for conventions–there is another level of revision (one for true publication and audience). That specific level of audience isn’t discussed enough. I wish more were written about writing to real audiences because it is the one writing move that has too often been imaginary in classrooms. When we ask students to consider “audience” and then never really publish the writing to an audience, what have they learned? If there is no real audience, their audience is just as likely to be the rubric. Imagine how many kids have revised and organized with consideration for their only real audience…the rubric.
Would love to see someone explore audience in a more formalized, research-based, venue…