Writing is Being: Prioritizing Attention and Astonishment

A call to resist pulling the “magical string” of efficiency and return to writing as an act of attention, wonder, and genuine being.

DR. KELSEY HAMMOND
Lead Professional Development Advisor

Too often, the endless pragmatics of teaching—the deadlines, the standards, the required summaries—can reduce the powerful act of writing in our classrooms to a chore we and our students simply need to get through. Drawing inspiration from Mary Oliver's call to "pay attention" and "be astonished," this fifth installment of the Teaching Writing in the Age of Generative AI series argues for a mindset shift: reclaiming writing as an essential act of being that offers purpose and connection. 

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“Instructions for living a life: 
Pay attention. 
Be astonished. 
Tell about it.”
– Mary Oliver’s “Sometimes” in Devo​tions (2008)

The Pull of Pragmatics

​“Read this so you can write your summaries.”
“Write down the notes so we can move on.”
“Write a few sentences so I can give you credit for the assignment.”
“We will read and write poems in this unit, then analyze them.”

As K-12 teachers, our focus constantly feels pulled toward the pragmatics. We tell our students we need to read just enough to practice the skill of summarizing. That we need to write notes to move on to the next lesson before the upcoming break. We need to get this practice work written so I can enter it into the grading portal before parent-teacher conferences. We will write poetry because the unit requires writing poetry. 

This is the reality of teaching: the pragmatics of time, parent communication, standards and objectives, and required curriculum and content often consume our days, which can lead to the desire to just get through to the end. To survive until it’s over. My mentor teacher used to say jokingly all the time, “This, too, shall pass.” I think our students often feel this sentiment—they may be willing to write, but it's just to get through the task to move on to the next one. 

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The Magical String of Efficiency

​I recently recalled a French fairy tale I read as a child about a boy named Peter. Walking through the woods, he met a witch who offered him a magical ball of string that could accelerate time. Peter was thrilled; he could now fast-forward through all the terrible parts of his life efficiently.

He quickly pulled the string the next day when assigned school work. He pulled it again for an errand his mother asked him to run. He pulled and pulled and pulled until he suddenly stood at the end of his life. In a panic, he called upon the witch: “My life is suddenly over, and I never had a chance to live.” She granted him one final wish. He knew immediately what he wanted: “I’d like to go back to childhood and give you back the magical string.”

This fairy tale lingers in my mind now as I plan lessons, read the same poem for the 20th time with my students, and write feedback. I’ve heard the dreaded “remember your why” rhetoric used to justify asking more and more of educators. Yet, I also feel a renewed personal “why” as I teach and exist in a world in which generative AI can function as our magical string. What exactly am I accelerating through? Is it, to some extent, the work of living?

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The Work That Shapes Us

​I’ve used generative AI to create writing prompts for my students. It works far more efficiently than I ever could, instantly generating and differentiating as many as I like. I see this as a great use of these tools: to spark creativity, reduce writer’s block, and get through the lesson planning stage.

And yet, I long for the excitement I felt when I struggled to create my own prompts. I miss talking with colleagues about new ideas, reflecting on the invitations to write that my past teachers gave me, and turning to literature and forums to find questions that spark interest right now for my students and me. That challenging work shapes me just as much as I shape it. It’s part of what brought me to teaching in the first place—that’s something I enjoy doing with my time. 

The use or non-use of AI certainly doesn’t have to exist as a binary. As this article series continues, I’ll share and consider how generative AI tools may play a part in those planning and writing processes, for us as practitioners and for our students. But, I never want to lose sight of the message of the magical string tale; namely, that many of the most meaningful parts of life are often the ones we grapple with authentically and for ourselves, that we may want to accelerate through in the immediate moment. 

With that said, sometimes teaching does require us to just get through when things are especially difficult: that loud moment in class when I feel overstimulated, that stack of 50 essays that still need to be read and responded to, that inbox full of unanswered emails from families. 

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Writing is Being

​And also, Mary Oliver’s words return to me: I want my students to read and write because they pay attention, feel astonishment (or pain or joy or something real), and tell others about it, experiencing human connection and purpose. In this way, I believe one of the most pivotal purposes of writing (and reading, learning, and teaching) is a sense of being.

I don't want to pull the magical string all the time, only to end my teaching career and life feeling like I never truly was. Similarly, I don’t want my students to turn to generative AI because they believe the work of writing is only something to endure until it’s over. 

My students still write summaries, take notes, and strive for credit—but I’ve changed how I think about and frame those experiences for them and for myself. We summarize to uncover what caught our attention and what we want to tell others. We immerse ourselves in the feeling of writing: the struggle and the celebration as words land on the page. We slow down whenever possible to write poetry, because poetry might help us feel purpose and connection with the world. 

I enjoy planning my own writing prompts because that brings me feelings of individuality, struggle, creativity, and investment; and, sometimes, I use generative AI as a part of that process, especially when there just aren’t enough minutes in the day to get everything done. 

The pragmatics of teaching may not change. But, the orientation toward authentic attention and astonishment—toward being and enjoying life—that might just be transformative.
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