Instead of starting class with our computers out, I handed them a one-page photocopy.

“I’ve been reading this book called Writing Without Teachers, and I think some of the advice might help you with your essay drafts.”

“Writing without teachers? Sounds great,” one student quipped.

“I know how you feel,” I said. “Sometimes, when I’m writing, I wish I wasn’t there, either.”

I read them a few key items from the list:

Avoid doing all writing or doing all sitting-back-thinking. And above all avoid being caught in the middle where you write only a couple sentences and stop and wonder and worry.

Don’t let beginnings be a problem. Write through them by brute force. I often have to use all-purpose beginnings: “And another thing…” “The thing of it is…” “What I want to talk about is…” “You want to know something?” At the end you can write better beginnings.

“Who writes their first sentence, and then immediately deletes it? Who does this half a dozen, a dozen times?” Much of the class raised their hands along with me. “This book says, try letting go don’t worry about getting it perfect the first time. Allow yourself to write the crap that will get you to the good stuff.”

Several students shook their heads emphatically no. That’s not how they operate, they said. They want to get it right the first time.

“I get it,” I told them. “I wrote a 15-page article this summer, and I probably wrote half a dozen different intros before I thought I found the right one. All the while there was a voice in my head saying, ‘this is not right.’ ”

“But when one of you is stuck in a writing rut, the question I always ask is, “well, what are you really trying to say?” And nine times out of ten, what comes out of your mouth is exactly what you should be typing. So, why not just start your writing with that phrase? And we’ll get rid of it later.”

We start with outlines, and we finish with peer editing and revision, but somewhere in the middle we need to set ourselves free in order to find our voice. I hope that “What I’m really trying to say” helps us get there.

This strategy is anything but new, but I thought I would describe how it works in my classroom.

The first ten minutes of almost every English class I teach is devoted to journaling. We’re talking old school, marble journals, no talking, no thinking (too much), no stopping. I don’t like to police use of phones and other tech in my class, but for those first few minutes the class must be absolutely “tech free” — I describe as strength training for more arduous tasks like the SAT.

I have read so many times that writing alongside your students is key — and to be honest, I do not achieve this the majority of the time. I produce my own versions of some major assignments, but not every year. With Journaling though, I have my own, and I succeed in writing in it for most class periods:

One reason I don’t write in it every class period — apart from general fatigue — is that I let students read and reply to my journal. They have the option to leave their journal for me to read, and I value that. So it seems unfair that I wouldn’t also put myself out there.

I can’t say that kids are clamoring for my journal every period. One way I often use it is by handing it to someone who is so clearly done writing for the day (even though the instructions are to just keep pushing through.) Sometimes this has no effect. Sometimes, though, they go a little bit nuts over the stuff I’ve written.

Of course, I still have my Ms. Pahomov identity on while I’m writing. But I also share lots of personal details that would never have a reason to come up in class. Like this random page from last may, which includes references to my best friend, my partner, and an unfortunate incident that happened at 23rd and Washington:

If we share, I can read mine too. If I notice that I don’t want to write on the prompt, I’d better change it next time. And if students are making noise, my teacher glare is much more effective if I am also scribbling away. We are all in it.