Modeling Choice Reading and (Flash Fiction) Writing with Students

I read student essays, write comments for feedback, read assigned class texts, and write lessons plans. But what about my reading and writing for fun?

A senior student once wrote a note to admin about me that said I was his favorite teacher because of how I treated the students. He said I didn’t just give them tasks to do, but I was in it with them. “For example,” he wrote, “when we watch a summary or background video in class, he sits in a desk among us and watches the video with us, sometimes making funny comments during the video.”

I try to be with the students as they learn. However, as an English teacher, I used to forget to give myself time to read and write like I give to them. I read student essays, write comments for feedback, read assigned texts, and write lessons plans. But what about my reading and writing for fun?

This school year, I started Choice Reading with my students. In class, we read and analyze class-assigned texts, usually short stories and poems. Each student also has a Choice Reading book that we spend a significant amount of class time enjoying. It is scheduled into the daily routine.

Image by Licya Puleio from Pixabay

My classes always begin with “Sitting.” This is a time where I ask students to clear their desks and their minds for 3-4 minutes. Sometimes I put on calm guitar music or nature sounds, sometimes there is a guided meditation, and sometimes it’s just silence. It’s a wonderful time to breathe, meditate, pray, daydream, or organize our thoughts. I don’t need to ask them or remind them to do this each day. We just do it automatically at the opening of class. I sit in front of the class and model it.

After Sitting, the students are to take out their Choice Reading books, and they spend 10-15 minutes reading books they choose. During this time, my plan is to meet in the hall with students to have one-to-one talks about what they are reading, why they are reading it, what’s going on in the book, and whether or not they are enjoying the book. These talks are great opportunities for me to get to know my students and their reading journey. More importantly, it’s a time for them to talk to someone about their books.

By second semester, I start having these conferring sessions less often because I want to model reading, like I do with Sitting. The conferring becomes random and based on the circumstances, like a student visibly struggling with or enjoying a book, or a student completing a book. Some days I talked to a student about their reading, and some days I read my book as they read their books. I model.

This week, I took my next step in modeling: I wrote while my students wrote. The assignment was this:

Write a flash fiction story in 400 words or less. Your story should include:

• A surprising twist or unexpected ending.

• A clear beginning, middle, and end.

• At least two characters.

• A setting described in vivid detail.

• Use this sentence to start your story: "As the sun dipped below the horizon, an eerie silence enveloped the small town."

I wrote at the same time as them, then we shared our stories. It was so fun! It seems like such an obvious “Duh” thing—to write while they write; but I never did. I usually just hang out, walk around, and check in as they write. But I don’t think my students need to be micromanaged. They probably benefit more from me modeling the writing. Next school year, I will continue to model Sitting and Choice Reading, but now I will also model writing.

Here’s the flash fiction I wrote in class this week:

As the sun dipped below the horizon, an eerie silence enveloped the small town. Children rushed home, expecting warm dinners. Two old friends sat on a park bench. They tried to imagine that the children would get their warm dinners, but they knew there would be no dinners prepared. The town’s adults were preparing for other things.

The last of the autumn leaves were falling. But they were not orange, yellow, and red; it had been a very dry year. A very dry decade, in fact. The leaves were brown and dry. The old men watched them fall and ignored their own reflections in the decay and death.

Inside the nearby houses, the old men heard the children scream soon after going inside. The old men continued to sit still on their bench in an empty park. It grew darker. The park lights would soon come on. And when they did, they were a dark, uncomfortable orange. A few people in robes came into the park, setting up cauldrons, skeletons, and some sort of webbing. The sound of a breaking death came from under their feet as the robed ones crunched the decaying leaves. The old men watched. They knew all too well what was to come.

The houses were silent now, except for the occasional “Hurry up” or “We need to get going” that came from the nearest abode. The robed men departed the park. Soon, the only light remaining was that from the orange-colored park lamps. One old men turned to one another. “Well, I guess it’s about time.”

“Yes, we should get going. This won’t be a pretty sight.”

“I have been dreading it all year.”

The two slowly stood up, joints aching, and picked up their umbrellas. Together, they walked into the darkness. As they left the park, children flooded out of their homes, running to the park.

They were all dressed in costumes–witches, clowns, cartoon characters, vampires, famous athletes. Their parents followed closely behind with smiles on their faces. They had all managed to keep the small town’s surprise Halloween party a secret from the kids. Costumes had been secretly purchased and hidden in houses; party organizers had planned how to decorate the park in secret and with speed; and the two old men had planned to be far away from any spooky fun that was to happen on that Saturday night.