Download the organizer and the model paragraph here.Ģ) Make sure the peer response criteria for the rough drafts correlate with the outline organizer. By the time they finished, they were effectively done with their rough draft. This organizer took several days for most students to complete in class. To accomplish this scheme, here are the four steps I implemented that made me feel, for the first time, that these research papers were a process, not a fait accompli: that I was actually helping rather than simply grading my students.ġ) Create an excruciatingly detailed outline organizer that students can use while constructing their papers. What if I could then write copious comments on the rough drafts and ask students to incorporate changes into the final?Īnd – best of all – what if I barely graded the final drafts, since all the of the meaningful work would have happened before that? Four Steps that Keep Me Sane What if I could give students enough scaffolding, through an outline organizer and accompanying peer response, that their rough drafts included everything I wanted? In my lesson plan file I wrote, in huge red font so I wouldn’t ignore it: “Do whatever it takes for this not to happen in the future!” Grading them while sitting next to a hotel pool on spring break made me want to toss them into the water. These papers were not long – about two pages, double spaced – but they felt like it. Vague words such as bad, good, great, and sad carried the day. Quotations were not always embedded well, and facts were not sufficiently paraphrased. A lofty topic sentence bore little relation to the evidence within the paragraph. Yet the writing in many instances simply didn’t gel. The papers were well sourced, and many of them had strong thesis statements because we had worked on them in class together. history research papers and realized that if I wanted to be teaching writing in history class – which I very much did – this was not the way to do it. The final tipping point in convincing me to read rough drafts came more recently than I’d like to admit, when I yet again dug into a set of final eighth-grade U.S. So, what I’ve ended up doing in recent years with research papers is to grade rough drafts deeply, grade final drafts hardly at all – and, crucially, structure the writing so that rough drafts become something I actually want to read. This is not a zero-sum game: It’s actually negative when you look at the wear and tear on us as teachers. Little learning on the part of the student. Lots of effort on the part of the teacher. Because, unless we ask students to do corrections or respond to our comments, the comments we make will – as we well know – disappear into the ether, never to be recovered. In fact, giving comments only on final drafts can actually be worse than giving them on rough drafts. I might have continued this dance of avoidance indefinitely, until I realized (a little late to the game): If students don’t receive and process meaningful comments on rough drafts, whether from me or their peer responders or both, their final papers will read like rough drafts. I envisioned slogging through paper after paper, then having to trudge through them all again, like trampling on dirty snow.Įarlier in my career, I actually did do that slog, for nobility’s sake, and later thought: No way. I thought I didn’t have time – and that if I commented on the rough drafts I would be doubling my paper load. For many years, with major writing assignments, I avoided reading my students’ rough drafts.
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