The Other 17 Hours

There are many writing projects my students labored through during the course of the school year. Indeed, my writing instruction was more intense than ever, partially due to the fact that all California seventh graders have to take a writing test in March in one of three genres: narrative, response to literature, or persuasive. You don't know which one it's going to be, so you have to prepare your students for all three, meaning pages and pages of practice, draft after draft. When the day came, I felt confident. The seventh grade team had created plans for each genre that we made the kids memorize and practice over and over again, plans that, if followed, would ensure that the students included all the different pieces the scorers would be looking for (for example, a persuasive essay *has to* anticipate the reader's concerns and include a response to the reader's concerns or else it doesn't stand a chance of scoring above a 2 out of 4).

My kids did very well, but it's not like they enjoyed it. They had to respond to a specific prompt, had to follow the plan, had to include all the different aspects they knew the scorers would be looking for, but missing from most of those essays was their real voice and personality. Technically, they knew how to write a quality paper, but had I helped make writing a useful or valuable form of expression for them?

In May, after state testing, the kids asked me if they could do their own version of "Tell It Like It Is," an anthology of the best of LA Youth that I had given them as a surprise gift for all their hard work. They were really touched by the stories it contained, of kids writing about their experiences growing up in Los Angeles, dealing with themes of gang violence, sexual identity, peer expectations... They wanted to do the same thing but for Huntington Park, to tell it like it is growing up in HP.

And so we did. I gave them free reign to choose whatever topic they wanted, anything they felt would give outsiders an idea of what they go through every day at school and at home. The results were dramatic. Kids that rarely put any effort into writing projects the entire year all of a sudden were producing pages and pages, multiple drafts, asking for my input to help make them better.

I learned a lot about my students. I learned a lot about what goes on in their lives the other 17 hours a day when they're not with me. Those 17 hours, I learned, are filled with heartache, fear, resentment, guilt, pride, confusion, regret, and love. It's not easy being thirteen anywhere, but I think it's especially difficult being thirteen in Huntington Park.

You can read/download it here.