Ever since I was little, I had an easy time writing.  For some reason, the words came to me quickly, with little need to learn an organizational structure.  A vocabulary was like a candy store, where two things that were virtually identical had slightly different flavors and textures and I enjoyed the candy store - not in the sense of meandering slowly, but in that quick, "I'll take some of this and this and this" mentality that most kids have.  Academic writing was the easiest, because I could camaflogue a banal idea with high-minded jargon and the professors would devour it.  I still write quickly, especially in blogs.  I rarely take the time to edit my sentences (hence the propensity to make stupid grammar mistakes).  I sprint through my various article reviews and scholarly papers for my master's degree. 

I am learning, however, to slow down.  Over the last year, I decided to write a book.  I realize that it probably will never be published and I am okay with that.  What happens, now, is that as I pour over my writing, I learn to choose words selectively, like that romantic high school phase when I used to write poetry (thinking the girls would dig it).  I am learning to cut out unnecessary ramblings and re-organize disconnected thoughts. 

The end result is something satisfying, not unlike taking the time to bake something home-made rather than letting Betty Crocker do the hard work. 

So, I begin to wonder what this means for me as a teacher.  Perhaps I need to offer fewer assignments and let the students have more time to actually edit their work and master what they learn.   

 

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