Books
Young authors put pen to paper with A+ results

By Dana Standish
Special to The Seattle Times

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All writers search for an organizing principle — the perfect metaphor, the brilliant leap, the structure that will help them turn the chaos of their notes into the hoped for order of a finished story.

For some, writing a simile is as easy as falling off a log. Some find a metaphor that takes wing and flies off into the endless blue of their imagination. For the rest of us, especially the 870 elementary school children who are lucky enough to be a part of the Powerful Writers program in Seattle's public schools, there is Anne Mulherkar, an organizing principle if ever there was one.

Mulherkar is codirector of Powerful Writers, the literacy and writing program that is part of Powerful Schools, a nonprofit coalition of parents, teachers, principals and community members working to boost the skills of children in Seattle's most academically challenged elementary schools. Powerful Writers joined Powerful Schools seven years ago. "Powerful Writers fit in perfectly with us," says Powerful Schools executive director Rebecca Sadinsky, "because we were already focused on literacy." Sadinsky calls Mulherkar "a creative fount of wisdom." She points out that not all programs that are modeled on Powerful Writers have succeeded. As Sadinsky puts it, "many other programs have faltered for lack of an Anne."

Powerful Writers serves children in five Rainier Valley schools — Hawthorne, Beacon Hill, John Muir, Orca and Whitworth. Teachers in those schools receive in-class mentoring from staff developers Mulherkar, Eva McGough and Susan Moscrip, who model the writing process and provide ongoing support to teachers. Other members of the Powerful Writers team are codirector Jeannie Collins-Brandon and program manager Arni Adler.

"Good morning, writers," Mulherkar says as she enters Ivory Smith's 2nd grade class at John Muir. "Good morning, Miss Anne," answers the chorus. Mulherkar begins the lesson by reading to the children, who have formed an orderly semicircle in front of her. At the end of the story she asks, "How many of you have written down your memories?" All hands are in the air. "I caught an 18-pound salmon," says Martin. "I got my first haircut," says Bill. Lawrence brings the discussion to a momentary halt with the title of his story: "When I Learned to Drive."

After the laughter dies down Mulherkar shows the children how to make a "memory pizza." A "memory pizza" is a circle that has been cut into four quadrants; into each quadrant the student writes a memory.

Mulherkar is writing a story about when she was in 3rd grade and she and her family moved to another city. Into one "slice" of the pizza she writes of how sad she felt when she had to leave her best friend. In another "slice" she writes about being scared when she was lost on the school bus and neither she nor the driver knew where she lived. During the week the students will work with their teacher to turn their pizzas from a messy, insubstantial snack of empty calories into a nutritious, satisfying banquet of a story that will feed their growth as writers.

A lifelong interest

Mulherkar had always been interested in writing, first as a children's librarian, and later as a writer of educational media (translation: film strips — ding!). "I was in love with children's literature," she says. "But then I became in love with children's writing." Her idea for Powerful Writers began in 1996, when she was a parent volunteer in her son's first grade class at Hawthorne. "Anne is like an eager student," says Susan Moscrip. "She was a parent force when I was teaching at Hawthorne. She saw a need and she tried to fill it."
 
At Hawthorne, Mulherkar organized literary festivals, where groups of children from the school joined with people from the community to read and celebrate writing. She noticed that when her son's teachers participated in writing workshops they all said, "This is really fun. Now what should we do?" She began to research ways to bring ongoing writing workshops to the students. "In most professional development programs you go downtown and then come back to your classroom," Mulherkar says. "There's no support. Our teachers are part of the community. They write in the classroom with the students. Kids in the past went all through school and didn't see writing demonstrated."

Kids and teachers see writing demonstrated by the staff developers, master teachers who model the writing process for the children. The children collect memories and thoughts in their notebook, choose a "seed idea," write a lead, and revise. Students write about subjects that interest them and that they are experts on, everything from "How to Wash a Karate Belt" to "How To Gossip Like A Pro."

The Powerful Writers work has begun to pay off. "It's been amazing, the change we've seen in the children's writing," says Beacon Hill Principal Susie Murphy. "The children are writing all the time. They think about their writing when they are on the bus or at home." Murphy can see a difference in the students at Beacon Hill, where the staff recently made a three-year commitment to continue to fund Powerful Writers.

"One way parents find out about Powerful Writers is that kids go home and talk about writing," says staff developer Eva McGough. "Also teachers get jazzed about writing, especially when they have reluctant writers who are suddenly thrilled to be writing." said Marjorie Lamarre, who teaches a combined 4th and 5th grade at John Muir and has been the beneficiary of some of that fairy dust. She credits Mulherkar with giving her the means to find a depth she didn't have before as a writer and teacher.

"Before Powerful Writers I never wrote with the children. I just went around and gave them ideas. Anne shares her life with the children and it makes kids feel safer. They see her writing about something personal and they see that they can write about something that has hurt them, too."

Lamarre reads her story, "When I Discovered That I Was Not Beautiful." "I grew up in Haiti thinking I was beautiful," Lamarre says. "Everyone called me 'princess.' Then when I went to kindergarten a 3rd grader said I looked like a bald-headed monkey." This episode changed Lamarre's life. "This taught me how a few words can affect someone's life," she says. "I learned to be careful about how I use words, because words can be poisonous."

Words can also be an antidote to poison, as Lamarre discovered when she read this story to the kids in her class. "When I first wrote the story the kids were so compassionate," she says. "They all ran up to me and said, 'you're so beautiful, Ms. Lamarre.' "

Writing about sadness

Back in the classroom at Beacon Hill, 10-year-old Molly has discovered the cathartic power of writing. Last year she wrote a story about Blackie, her guinea pig who died.

"People think you should write about happy things, but I wanted to write about something more," she says. "I think writing about Blackie helped me get over when she died. When I wrote about Blackie, she became like a permanent memory. After I wrote about her I didn't feel so sad."

Now Molly works on adding "eye-grabbing extras" to her latest book, "The Experience Woof Project," a pithy, step-by-step guide to dog training, complete with illustrations of dry and wet dog food, photos of bad and good dogs and advice on the finer points of dog obedience, such as what to do if your dog is chewing a shoe (answer: "take the shoe away and scold the shoe"). Molly points to her dog-training book. "This is expository," she says. "The one about Blackie was narrative. That means you are telling a story. Expository is where you tell someone how to do something."

There's a word for children who understand these ideas and can express this type of distinction in their writing — "powerful."