Poop, Gamers, and Guns, OH MY!

When I first started teaching, I was horrified at the writing topics some students chose. After all, my demonstration text was a beautiful narrative about seeing a swan on a morning walk. So why on earth did a young writer craft a violent war story with a graphic drawing of a bloody soldier?!

I’m sure the same story has played out in your classroom, and it’s a sticky situation as a writing teacher. Maybe you’re peering over the shoulder of a reluctant writer who is finally writing, but… you wish it wasn’t about Minecraft. However, my ideas have changed. I DO let students write about poop, video games, guns, and more.

How I Got Here: Many of my beliefs about uncomfortable topic choices in writing workshop are inspired by Ralph Fletcher’s (2006) Boy Writers: Reclaiming Their Voices. Fletcher (2006) states that “how we respond to and evaluate student writing often has as much to do with us (our individual tastes and preferences) as what’s on paper” (p. 23). This made me stop and think about how I was imposing my interests on the authors in my class.

How It Works: While I won’t tell a writer they can’t write about a topic, I often engage in a conversation about who their audience is. If a piece is really sad, violent, or mature, I’ll chat with the writer about whether they think it’s appropriate to share with peers. I’ve found that students make great decisions in these conferences, possibly because they’re simply shocked they’re allowed to keep writing the piece. Writing for an audience is a critical skill for writers, and this is a meaningful opportunity to teach into that.

Yes, and: Of course there’s a limit. If a student wrote something about wanting to act on violence, my concern is more about involving the school counselor than censoring his or her work. But when you consider what some kids do in their free time- hunting, Fortnite, or playfighting- it’s important to honor their interests and experiences.

What do your mentor texts look like? At the 2024 CCIRA Literacy Conference, the authors of Trusting Readers (Hannah Schneewind and Jennifer Scogggin) challenged my thinking by asking: “What kinds of books do you choose to read aloud?” They asserted that exclusively sharing advanced literary texts communicates to students that important learning only happens in books like that. “Read aloud Dogman!” they cheered as my jaw dropped.

I believe the same philosophy holds true for the books teachers highlight as mentor texts. We want every student to see themselves as writers, and if I use the same swan story year after year, I’m excluding a group of writers who don’t relate.

Example in Action: A few years ago, I prepared to launch my first unit with second graders. After two successful weeks of building workshop routines and “freewriting,” it was time to shift the group to a narrative genre study. When I announced that we would begin crafting true stories about our lives, there was a quiet but noticeable sigh of disappointment. If I could read minds, I bet I would’ve heard, “Ugh… here we go again.” Clearly, they remembered narrative writing from first grade and weren’t excited to be limited to this genre.

Thinking on my feet, I ditched my planned demonstration text. (And yes, it was my swan story.) In front of the class, I brainstormed and planned a narrative about the time a student puked on my feet. BOOM! I had them. They screamed, stuck their tongues out, and asked a million questions. I described the smells, textures, and sounds, sparing no detail. They couldn’t wait to get to work on their own narratives, many of them retelling their own nasty stories.

Try It: Give it a go. You might be surprised how your writing environment changes. To get you started, here are some “innapropriate” books students at my school have created. Feel free to use them to inspire unengaged writers.