to grammar or not

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Voices from the Middle, Volume 8 Number 3, March 2001

Weaver, McNally, and Moerman | To Grammar or Not to Grammar: That Is Not the Question!

To Grammar or Not to Grammar:That Is Not the Question!

Constance Weaver, Carol McNally, and Sharon Moerman

“Should we teach grammar, orshouldn’t we?” Often pre-sented with this apparent

all-or-nothing choice, even the teachersasking the question may not have clearinstructional goals for teaching grammar;they may simply think they should teach it.Sometimes they have other reasons,though, for thinking they ought to teachgrammar: they find parents, the public,and even the politicians clamoring forgrammar instruction in the hope thatteaching traditional grammar from hand-books or CDs will somehow improvestudents writing, or at least their ability toavoid “errors.”

Most often it doesn’t.

Yes, some students learn the conventions of gram-mar, usage, and punctuation from a handbook. Orat least they appear to have learned these conven-tions when doing and drill exercises on one con-cept at a time, followed by related tests. But dostudents remember and apply these conventionsin their own writing? Here, the payoff severelydeclines.

The problems with this common view of “whyteach grammar” lie deeper than most people real-ize. First, we must contend with an underlying,implicit, and largely erroneous learning theory: ifteachers teach something well, students will learnit and, what’s more, will apply it well. What wenow know from cognitive psychology is that stu-

dents need guidance in developing concepts, suchas the concepts of “sentence” and “not sentence.”In addition, no matter how motivated the studentsmay be to apply such concepts—for example, toavoid or eliminate run-ons and fragments in theirwriting—they still often need help applying theseconcepts in practical situations. Such help may beneeded even by the students who enjoy and takepride in their schoolwork and who love analyzingdata.

Much of what we teach in the name of gram-mar amounts to labeling parts of speech and theirfunctions or identifying kinds of sentences, yet stu-dents need very little of this to learn the conven-tions of written edited English. For most students,teaching grammar as sentence analysis is anotherreason why the grammar doesn’t transfer to stu-dent writing.

It is convenient for us to be able to refer to“nouns,” “verbs,” “subjects,” and “predicates”when talking about things like subject-verb agree-ment. However, a little grammar goes a long waywhen it comes to helping students edit for the useof standard conventions in their writing, and theconcepts can be taught as we discuss literature andthe students’ own writing.

Yet another major problem with the demandfor teaching grammar is exemplified in the ten-dency to limit the concern about “grammar” tojust the issue of conventions, or what is commonlycalled “correctness.” Even teachers often fail torealize that they can do a great deal to help stu-dents write more effectively by attending to gram-matical options, such as reducing a sentence withsupporting details to an appositive, a participialphrase, or an absolute (see examples in Connie’sand Carol’s sections of this article). When we help

SElson

Copyright © 2001 by the National Council of Teachers of English. All rights reserved.

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students see how to add details in such phrases,we are actually helping them to generate content.Other grammatical issues we can attend to aremodifier placement, sentence variety, and sentencestructure. The choice and placement of thesegrammatical options join with word use and otherfeatures to create a distinctive style and voice in apiece of writing. Thus, guiding students in sen-tence expansion and revision is critical to helpingthem become more effective, not just more correct,as writers. See, for example, Harry Noden’s ar-ticle in this volume and his book Image Grammar(1999), a teacher resource that we enthusiasticallyrecommend.

Both our personal teaching experiences andthe findings of research studies support the con-clusion that most students do not benefit fromgrammar study in isolation from writing, if indeedour purpose in teaching grammar is to help stu-dents improve their writing (e.g., Hillocks andSmith, 1991). In short, teaching traditional gram-mar in isolation is not a very practical act.

What we have found practical, though, isdrawing upon literature for models of effectivesentences and paragraphs, while incorporatingonly the most useful grammatical concepts (andeven less terminology) into our teaching of writ-ing. This enables us to help students improve sen-tences as they learn to recognize skilled use ofdetail, style, voice, and, of course, the conventionsof edited American English. When we have stu-

dents do activities—let’s say brief writings to prac-tice using a particular grammatical construction—it is typically as a prelude to writing another piecewhere we simply encourage students to experimentwith the grammatical options they’ve been learn-ing. If we think of writing as a recursive process,as exemplified in the Michigan model of writingin Figure 1, we would suggest that teaching gram-matical options and syntactic effectiveness is mostappropriate as a prelude to writing and during re-vision, while teaching writing conventions is mosthelpful during the editing phase. Revising forgreater grammatical effectiveness and editing forconventions can be spurred by mini-lessons, butultimately, we have found individual conferencesto be absolutely indispensable.

Teachers who are familiar with NCTE’s reso-lutions on the teaching of grammar will see thatthe teaching of grammar in and for writing is inline with those resolutions, while isolated teach-ing of grammar is not. Teaching grammar in con-text is also in line with the NCTE standards forthe English language arts, particularly standard 6(NCTE, 1996):

Students apply knowledge of language structure, lan-guage conventions (e.g., spelling and punctuation),media techniques, figurative language, and genre tocreate, critique, and discuss print and nonprint texts.(p. 36)

There is nothing in the NCTE standards aboutteaching grammar—or anything else—as an iso-lated subject. Rather, the language arts are seen asa unit, permeating inquiry and learning through-out the curriculum.

It should not be surprising, then, that ourteaching experiences as well as our professionalreading have convinced us that teaching a limitednumber of grammatical concepts in the contextof their use is far better than isolated grammarstudy in getting students to appreciate and usegrammatical options and conventions more effec-tively. Or as Rei Noguchi (1991) puts it, “Less ismore” (p. 121).

Connie’s section of this article begins by al-luding to minilessons and writing practice, afterwhich she focuses on “grammar emerging” as

Figure 1. Michigan model of the writing process, Michigan State Boardof Education, 1994

WRITING AS PROCESS PREWRITING DRAFTING REVISING PROOFREADING

Planning orrehearsing

Getting ideasdown inpreliminaryform

Takinganotherlook atone’s work

Preparingthe pieceforpublication

PUBLISHING

Sharing withthe intended

audience • cluster • list • brainstorm• gather

information

• write drafts • choose

format• decide on

audience

• add • delete • rearrange • rethink• rewrite

• polish• correct

spelling andmechanicalerrors

THEWRITER

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viewed through writings from the students of aseventh-grade teacher and a fifth-grade teacher.Such examples encourage us to rethink how wecan best promote detail and grammatical varietyin students’ writing. In the following section, Caroldiscusses some activities that are helping her stu-dents to appreciate and use longer, more interest-ing sentences, and to draw upon a wider repertoireof syntactic options. This is followed by a sectionon revising sentences in a paragraph. Finally,Sharon discusses the importance of keeping theissue of writing conventions in perspective, whilenevertheless helping students learn to edit theirown writing.

For us, the question is not a simple dichotomy,“To grammar or not to grammar?” Rather, thequestion is, “What aspects of grammar can weteach to enhance and improve students’ writing,and when and how can we best teach them?” “Inthe context of writing” is our short answer, but wekeep learning more ways as we keep taking risksas teachers.

Connie: Prewriting and“Grammar Emerging”Decades ago, I was deeply affected, as a writer andas a teacher, by a little book called Notes Toward aNew Rhetoric (1967). In this book, FrancisChristensen pointed out that “Grammar maps outthe possible; rhetoric narrows the possible downto the desirable or effective” (p. 39). With respectto sentence combining (which had not yet seen itsheyday), Christensen wrote: “We need a rhetoricof the sentence that will do more than combinethe ideas of primer sentences. We need one thatwill generate ideas” (p. 26).

Through Christensen’s generous examplesfrom both professional and student writing, I be-came convinced that focusing on certain gram-matical forms was the best way to help studentsgenerate details and images. Christensen’s researchon the kinds of constructions commonly used byadult published writers but seldom used by twelfthgraders led me to focus on two of these three con-structions, namely participial phrases and abso-lutes. After having my freshman writing students

practice these two constructions by doing sen-tence-combining exercises (yes, sentence-combin-

The question is not a simple

dichotomy, “To grammar

or not to grammar?” Rather,

the question is, “What

aspects of grammar . . .

enhance and improve

students’ writing, and when

and how can we best teach

them?”

ing, not sentence-gener-ating), I used to readthem all but the endingof Ray Bradbury’s “TheFoghorn,” after which Iasked them to write theirown endings, being sureto include participialphrases and absolutes thatwould carry narrative anddescriptive details.

Here is an example ofthe kinds of sentences mystudents produced as partof their narrative conclusion, with the requisite con-structions italicized:

participial phrase → The monster lunged forward,leaving a trail of slime,

absolute → his eyes fixed on the red, white,red, white of the revolving light,

absolute → his mournful voice echoing thesound of the foghorn.

A participial phrase begins (usually) with a parti-ciple, either a present participle ending in -ing, ora past participle, such as broken, frightened, sung(as in the opening phrase of this sentence: Fright-ened by the foghorn, the monster lunged forward).An absolute is a phrase that usually can be restoredto full sentencehood by adding am, is, are, was,were, as in the examples above. By focusing onparticipial and absolute phrases that provide de-tail, zooming in like the zoom lens on a camera,my students found themselves able to infuse im-ages and sensory detail into their narratives, andthe use of detail even seemed to carry over intotheir expository and persuasive writing. In short,their writing improved greatly.

Today, I use sentence-imitating and sentence-generating activities that result in real pieces ofwriting. I draw upon Harry Noden’s Image Gram-mar as a source not only of ideas but of literaryand student examples, plus paintings that can beused to generate writing. I have also learned—frommy students, middle school teachers, and their stu-

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dents—how grammar and detail can emergethrough good preparation for writing, includingart and the reading and discussion of good litera-ture.

Grammar Emerging throughPrewriting ActivitiesWe can learn valuable lessons from Sarah, a sev-enth-grade teacher and former student in myGrammar for Teachers class (Woltjer, 1998;

for detail!” The students turned in their writingsat the end of class.

About two weeks later, Sarah guided the stu-dents in writing their second fall poems, the“sense” poems. She explains:

The Monday before, I had each student bring in oneor two leaves, so by Wednesday we had a large basketof them. Before writing on Wednesday, we didprewriting exercises together as a class. My studentsloved it! We threw the basket of leaves in the air andwatched them fall in different directions. Then thestudents took turns placing their leaves on the hot airregister and watched as their leaf got blown up to-ward the ceiling. After this, they went around theclassroom sharing a favorite fall memory or Thanks-giving tradition. Finally, with that introduction, I ex-plained the writing assignment as using the five senses,and they began writing. Those that had trouble withthe first fall writing assignment now had previousknowledge and ideas from the prewriting activitieson the five senses to provide organization. The dif-ference in their writings was amazing!

Figure 2 shows the “before and after” poemsfrom two students. One important thing to noticeis that many of the descriptive words in the “af-ter” poems aren’t necessarily adjectives or adverbs;they are nouns (“razor blades”) or verbs (“mulched”),as in the sensory poem from Tom. Another im-portant point is that while the “before” poems usedsome adjectives and/or adverbs, the “after” poemsused a much greater variety of constructions thatfunction adjectivally (to modify nouns) or adver-bially (to modify verbs or whole clauses). Examplesare the participle and participial phrases in Tom’sand Amy’s “after” poems.

What is to be learned from Sarah’s experience?Several things, I think (Weaver 1996b):

1. Various kinds of prewriting experiences cangreatly enhance the quality of students’writing. This is something Sarah alreadyknew and typically practiced.

2. A variety of adjectival and adverbial con-structions will probably emerge whenstudents are guided in focusing on thedetails of experience, rather than on grammar.

3. Asking students to focus on “adjectives” and

Asking students to focus on

“adjectives” and “adverbs”

might actually limit

students’ use of the more

sophisticated structures they

would use naturally.

Weaver 1996b). Beforetaking this class, Sarahhad been inclined toteach traditional, isolatedgrammar in the hope ofimproving students’writing. She admittedthat “Last year, I have re-alized, I did too muchtraditional grammar, and

sadly enough, I am afraid I did not teach my stu-dents how to become better writers.” So it becameher goal to improve her teaching of writing andnot concentrate on the traditional grammar les-sons. She wrote:

Already this year, it has been exciting to watch thedifference in my classroom as I implement new teach-ing ideas. This year I see much more enthusiasm forwriting and grammar because the students are notfully aware they are being taught grammar. Disguis-ing my grammar lessons behind the minilesson for-mat in the writer’s workshop has prevented me fromhaving to endure a repetition of last year’s groans re-garding how boring grammar is.

Sarah had previously encouraged her seventhgraders to use adjectives and adverbs in their writ-ing, but found that often her students’ “descriptive”poems or paragraphs included little descriptionand no details to make the pieces come alive.When it was suggested that she guide her studentsin writing a “five senses” poem about fall, Sarahdecided to experiment with two different ways ofencouraging students to use adjectives and adverbs.First, she asked the students to write about fallbut gave them little direction, except for mention-ing “Be sure to use those adjectives and adverbs

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Figure 2. “Before” and “after” poems from Sarah’s seventh graders

Tom’s poems

BeforeIt is fall you rake the leaves crustily over a pile “o” mud.It is nearly ear shattering when you rake the flames on theground. How chilling it be, no one knows. It (fall) is sounpredictable.

AfterSmells like destruction when burned.Clogging your lungs.Tastes like the dirt of the earth, destroying your taste buds.See the leaves on the trees fall effortlessly to the ground,Where they will be raked, mulched, and burned.Touch them—they feel like razor blades, when you jump

on them.Hear them? You can’t!But if you can’t hear them, do they really fall?

Amy’s poems

BeforeFall is the leaves changing colors; they can be green,

yellow or red.Fall is the cold and the freezing at night.Fall is when your backyard is covered with leaves.

AfterI can smell the apple pie baking in the oven.I can smell the burning leaves in the neighbor’s yards.I hear the leaves crackling under my feet as I trudge

through the yard.I hear children yelling as they jump in a pile of leaves.I see blended colors on the leaves like someone painted

them.I touch the leaves and I feel the veins.I touch the leaves and sometimes they break in my hands.I taste the turkey as the grease runs down my throat.I taste the pumpkin pie and now I know it is fall!

“adverbs” might actually limit students’ useof the more sophisticated structures theywould use naturally.

The last two lessons were important ones Sarahlearned—and important, I think, for many of usto learn, as teachers. (For a fuller version of Sarah’sstory, in her own words, see Woltjer, 1998).

Grammar can help us generate ideas; thus therevision section of this article demonstrates howfocusing on the addition of certain grammaticallysubordinate constructions can help writers adddetail and thereby make their pieces more inter-esting. However, the reverse occurs as well, as wesee from Sarah’s students and from Judy Davis’sstudents, below. Not only can grammar generateideas, but ideas can generate grammar. The twoare mutually reinforcing.

Grammar Emerging throughArt and LiteratureAs I walked toward Judy Davis’s fifth-grade class-room at the Manhattan New School, I was struckby the beauty of the student paintings hung high

on the wall outside her classroom door. Curiousabout the notebook resting on a table beneath thepictures, I opened it and found a smaller, photo-copied version of the same paintings, accompa-nied by a creative piece of writing and an expositorypiece describing how the piece was written.

It was not only the paintings that seemed ex-ceptional; it was the writings and—yes, I’ll admitit—the use of sophisticated grammatical construc-tions conveying concrete detail. Alexandra, for ex-ample, used some especially effective features inthe poem she wrote to accompany her painting.

“Alone”In my mindpeople walk by

participial → pretendingphrase not to see me.

I slowly walk past themparticipial phrase → hiding behind trees,absolute → my headphrase pointed to the ground.

The sun foldsits rays intothe sunset.My mind

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reads tangled thoughts ← three parallelthree parallel → about the previous day, phrases headedphrases as the books I’ve read, by “thoughts”as objects and home.of “about” Thoughts that separate me

from other peoplethat drift through my sleep.Thoughts that make mealone.

Alexandra

Three grammatical devices that Alexandrauses effectively are participial phrases, an absolute,and two sets of parallel phrases. Impressive, Ithought, for a fifth grader.

But Alexandra’s piece did not stand alone. Sev-eral other pieces, such as Bari’s in Figure 3 or

Carol: Learning Grammarwith The GiverSpecific grammatical constructions evident in thecurrent literature students read are potentialspringboards for teaching stylistic writing optionsthat students can integrate into their writings andrevisions. When read in the context of a greatbook, grammatical constructions used by profes-sional authors model syntactic options that can beused by student writers.

Drawing upon research, Connie Weaver statesthat sentence combining helps students “expandtheir syntactic repertoire in order to write moresyntactically sophisticated and rhetorically effec-tive sentences” (1996, p. 142). Indeed, one of themost prevalent tendencies of middle school writ-ers is to include a high frequency of short, choppysentences—all of like construction—in their writ-ing.

Just to show my seventh grade students whatcould be done to revise a piece of writing contain-ing short, choppy sentences, I took a passage fromChapter 9 of The Giver, beautifully written by LoisLowry, and put it through a regression process thatturned it into a piece of writing that any middleschool student might have written:

His training had not yet begun. He left the audito-rium. He felt apartness. He made his way throughthe crowd. He was holding the folder she had givenhim. He was looking for his family unit. He was alsolooking for Asher. People moved aside for him. Theywatched him. He thought he could hear whispers.

I had the students read through this alteredrendition of Lowry’s writing and asked them todiscuss what they thought of it. As I predicted,the students thought it was too choppy, and evenquestioned that it was actually from the book theywere currently reading, since it differed so drasti-cally from Lowry’s style. I assured them that it wasactually from the chapter we would be reading laterthat same day, but told them I had changed Lowry’swriting to reflect what I often saw in their ownwriting.

As a group, we discussed how the first twosentences might be combined into one, longer,more interesting sentence. Then, I invited the stu-

One of the most prevalent

tendencies of middle school

writers is to include a high

frequency of short, choppy

sentences—all of like con-

struction—in their writing.

Lauren’s in Figure 4, in-clude exceptionally effec-tive details and structure.Bari offers details withinparticipial phrases, whileLauren uses three sets ofthree parallel phraseseach. In her piece,Lauren leads up to a par-ticularly effective ending:

“This is a place of magic.”When I asked the students’ teacher, Judy

Davis, whether she had explicitly taught suchgrammatical constructions as participial phrases,absolutes, and parallel constructions, she said no.She hadn’t taught any of these, but had simplyimmersed her students in reading and discussinggood literature, including poetry. Students’ use ofthese grammatical constructions had simply“emerged” in their writing, as a result of their en-gagement with art and especially literature.

Both Sarah’s and Judy’s experiences as teach-ers, as well as my own, have confirmed for me thatthe use of sophisticated grammatical constructionsin writing does not necessarily have to be taught.It can be generated through a focus on ideas forwriting, including art, and through the examplesoffered by quality literature. For other students,though, the explicit use of imitation and sentencegeneration may produce a breakthrough in writ-ing, as Carol describes in the next section.

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dents to rewrite the altered passage, revising theparagraph toward what they imagined they wouldfind in Lowry’s actual text.

Joe wrote:Training had not yet began for Jonas’s assignment.Leaving the auditorium Jonas felt apartness. Makinghis way through the crowd was tough because of thenumber of people. Trying to find Asher, and his fam-ily unit, Jonas thought he heard whispers.

Ann wrote:His training had not begun yet, but he left the audi-torium feeling apartness. He made his way throughthe crowd, as he was holding the folder she had givenhim. He was looking for his family unit. But he wasalso looking for Asher. People were moving aside forhim. The crowd was watching him. He thought hecould hear whispering.

Brian wrote:Training had not yet begun for Jonas. Leaving theauditorium Jonas felt apartness. Holding the folderthe chief elder gave him he made his way through thecrowd. Jonas was looking for his family unit and Asher.Watching him, the people moved aside for him.Thinking he could hear whispers.

Compare the writings of these students toLowry’s actual passage where she describes Jonasleaving the Ceremony of Twelve:

But his training had not yet begun and already, uponleaving the Auditorium, he felt the apartness. Hold-ing the folder she had given him, he made his waythrough the throng, looking for his family unit and

Figure 3. Bari’s writing Figure 4. Lauren’s writing

The sun peaks out of a group of lazy clouds and lightensthe scene of my backyard.

I feel like being carefree, alone, and lost, tossing andtwirling through the large cornfield . . .

Tossing water over my feet while mud trickles in betweenmy toes and then swim freely in the cool water of apond . . .

Crawling under the cow fence and running east with themgallivanting behind . . .

Bicycle riding up a challenging hill and then shoutingdown another . . .

Watching birds caw overhead as I sip lemonade at thepicnic table . . .

Climbing up a tree with a book in my hand, just sitting ona limb, reading.

Utopia

You can come here.You have to climb in the direction of the sky.And when you are standing on a cliffwhere the soft whispers of wind stir the tall grass,and a hawk beats the air with his wings,and a tree reaches toward the sun that fills the sky,you will know.This is it.With the realization should come a drum roll,and music,and celebration.But none come because any drum roll would be too loudIt would make the hawk fly away,the wind stop,the grass shrivel.This is a place of magic.

for Asher. People moved aside for him. They watchedhim. He thought he could hear whispers. (p. 62)

The students were a bit dismayed that the lastthree sentences were actually as choppy in Lowry’stext as in my chopped up version. We discussedwhy Lowry chose to do this, and the class realizedthat the choppiness of construction mirrored theapartness that Jonas was beginning to feel imme-diately following the Ceremony of Twelve. It wasLowry’s stylistic choice to use simple sentenceconstruction to parallel Jonas’s growing feeling ofisolation.

I must state here that this class had previouslystudied the effects of beginning sentences with par-ticipial phrases via Noden’s Image Grammar andhis concept of “brush strokes.” So, in addition tocombining sentences, many students also inte-grated this previously learned stylistic grammarchoice to enhance their re-creations of Lowry’spassage.

Noden directly compares an artist’s develop-ment of a painting with the writer’s developmentof a piece of writing:

Just as the painter combines a wide repertoire of brushstroke techniques to create an image, the writerchooses from a repertoire of sentence structures. Al-though professionals use an array of complex struc-tures, students can begin to learn the art of image

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The goal is to see students

incorporating these

grammatical constructions

into all of their writing and,

consciously or unconsciously,

to become more

sophisticated writers.

grammar by employing five basic brush strokes: (1)the participle, (2) the absolute, (3) the appositive, (4)adjectives shifted out of order, and (5) action verbs.(p. 4)

The text of The Giver provides many examplesof each of Noden’s “brush strokes.” In anotherminilesson, I retyped the following sentences fromChapters 16 and 18 for the students to examine:

“Warmth,” Jonas replied, “and happiness.” And—letme think. Family. That it was a celebration of somesort, a holiday. (p. 117)

The Old of the community did not ever leave theirspecial place, the House of the Old, where they wereso well cared for and respected. (p. 117)

Jonas thought of his favorite female, Fiona, and shiv-ered. (p. 132)

I asked the students to carefully consider theconstruction of these sentences. I had to ask them

Mindi wrote:The Giver, an old man weighed down by positive andnegative memories, is kind but to the point. He isshut away from everyone, chosen when he became aTwelve to be different and endure the pains of someawful memories.

Notice these descriptions not only use apposi-tives correctly, two of them also make use of par-ticipial phrases and none are short, choppysentences by any means.

The goal is to see students incorporating thesegrammatical constructions into all of their writ-ing and, consciously or unconsciously, to becomemore sophisticated writers. And this is beginningto happen. I was delighted when I read these mostrecent journal entries from the following studentswho were writing in response to Chapter 19 ofThe Giver:

Charlene wrote:How could this place seem so peaceful and wonder-ful? Why would they kill little children and elderlypeople? I hate this community! This is such a badthing and people actively kill other people. I wouldnever be able to live with that, knowing that the lifeof someone has been taken away from them and thatthey actually killed other people. I though it was autopia. A utopia should not have people killing otherpeople. It’s just not right to do that!

Mindi wrote:Oh wow! How could they just kill a baby, so inno-cent, so unknowing? How could Rosemary kill her-self? I understand, I guess, that the community doesn’tfeel emotions, but Rosemary could feel. She knewwhat would happen. Why does the Receiver let thathappen? So is there really an elsewhere or is Else-where really death? I think this community needs help!

If I had started these lessons by telling my stu-dents we were going to be studying grammar, ormore specifically, participial phrases and apposi-tives, and doing sentence combining, my guess istheir attitude would have precluded the positiveresults that I see more and more often in theireveryday writing. Indeed, exercises on these as-pects of grammar from an English book wouldhave been just that—exercises—the results ofwhich would most likely not have transferred toreal student writing at all!

to look beyond thecomma before they reallystarted to catch on to thefact that the word orphrase after the commaactually just renamed thenoun before it. The stu-dents were grasping theidea of the appositive,even though they didn’tknow its name!

I modeled writing sentences with appositivesfor them by asking them to give me several wordsor phrases that described Jonas and using thosenouns or noun phrases as appositives in writingmy sentences about Jonas.

Next, I invited them to try the same approachin writing about the Giver.

David wrote:The old receiver of memory has now moved on tobecome the Giver. The Giver, Jonas’s instructor, holdsthe memories of what it was like before sameness wasamong them and their society.

Christina wrote:Giving memories to Jonas, the Giver shares the painand the joy. The Giver, the old receiver of memory, isgiving Jonas painful memories as well as joyful memo-ries.

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We tend to teach as we were

taught, limiting ourselves

mostly to the “correcting” of

sentences. But we need to do

better in order to help stu-

dents write better than we

were taught to write.

My experiences with teaching grammar in thecontext of literature are similar to an experienceSharon recently had with one of her students inan editing conference. In both cases, students wereengaged in improving their writing, not just learn-ing grammar for the sake of knowing the properterminology or in order to pass a grammar test.Students were learning grammar incidentally asthey focused on improving their writing.

Connie: Revision of Sentencesand ParagraphsMost of us English language arts teachers havenot actually had much guidance in revising sen-tences to create more effective paragraphs. Wehave had our sentences “corrected” if they wereactually fragments or run-ons or victims of acomma splice. We may even have had an exerciseor two in moving elements within sentences. Butfew of us have received help expanding or com-bining sentences within our own writing in orderto add detail, to reduce whole sentences convey-ing details to subordinate constructions, to makeour sentences flow, or to use form to reflect con-tent. Therefore, we tend to teach as we weretaught, limiting ourselves mostly to the “correct-ing” of sentences. But we need to do better in or-der to help students write better than we weretaught to write. We need to have students com-bine, move, revise, and expand sentences forgreater effectiveness.

I’ll use myself as an example. After six years ofrepeated grammar study in junior high and highschool, I could use not only subordinate clausesbut also appositives and participial phrases thatoccurred at the beginning of a sentence or imme-diately after the subject. But my narrative and de-scriptive writing was stiff. Stylistically, it soundedlike ineffective expository writing with unnaturalsentence structures and insufficient detail. As Imentioned earlier, it wasn’t until I read theChristensen book, Notes Toward a New Rhetoric(1967), that I learned to write more effective sen-tences with more concrete details. After examin-ing published adult writing, Christensenconcluded that the constructions most lacking in

high school students’ writing were appositives,participial phrases, and absolute constructions.Equally or more important for me as a writer,Christensen pointed out that these and other con-structions, when servingas nonessential “freemodifiers,” most oftenoccurred in the final po-sition in a sentence. Nextmost frequent was initialposition, before the sub-ject. Least frequent wereexactly what my teachersunfortunately had em-phasized, modifiers rightafter the subject. (Note to teachers worrying aboutmy use of “be” verbs in these last two sentences: Ichose to include the clarifying material last in thesentences, for emphasis.)

Years later, in trying to illustrate for my stu-dents what I had learned about using subordinatedetail and the judicious placement of modifiers, Iwrote a short piece about my experience whitewa-ter rafting in Costa Rica. Here is how a certainexcerpt read in my first draft, with few details, andthese details occurring in complete sentences in-stead of being subordinate to a main subject-verbunit:

So on the third day of our trip, I shouldn’t have beensurprised that the flooding Pacuare rose while we sleptbeside it for the night. Nor should I have been sur-prised, I suppose, that we were now “going swim-ming” for the second time.

But this time was worse than the first. The wallof water momentarily crushed me. I surfaced quickly.I was grateful that this time I had not come up underthe raft. Thank God! But then another wave engulfedme. It drove me deeper into the blackness. I darednot open my eyes.

Keeping in mind what I had learned fromFrances Christensen about using participialphrases and absolutes, and about placing most ofthem in final position, I then expanded my draftto produce the following, with the absolute andthe participial phrases italicized:

So on the third day of our trip, I shouldn’t have beensurprised that the flooding Pacuare rose while we slept

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beside it for the night, its muddy waters picking up speedas it swelled its banks [absolute]. Nor should I have beensurprised, I suppose, that we were now “going swim-ming” for the second time.

But this time was worse than the first. The wallof water momentarily crushed me, pushing me towardthe bottom of the river [participial phrase]. I surfacedquickly, grateful that this time, I had not come upunder the raft. Thank God! But then another waveengulfed me, driving me deeper this time, much deeper,into blackness [participial phrase]. I dared not open myeyes. (Weaver, 1996a, p. 119)

While revising, I kept in mind that I wantedto do four things: to add participial phrases andabsolutes if or as appropriate, in order to conveydetails; to reduce most sentences focusing on de-tails to these or other subordinate constructions; toinclude most of these “free modifying” construc-tions at the ends of sentences; and especially to cre-

The Big Guy

James weighs 240 pounds and use to be the champ.He beat Mohamad Ali for the crown. He’s 38 knowand he had drugs and pot. He’s been in jail for 5 yearsand that ended his carrear. He’s had a though timefinding a job. His face is scared. He wares a ripped Tshirt with knee pants. He’s trying to make a comeback in the boxing world.

It’s tempting to wield the red pen and gostraight for the jugular of the Error Beast (Weaver,1982). Instead, however, the teacher had studentsdraw the character they were describing, then re-vise the writing to include details from the draw-ing. Here is this student’s final edited version:

The Big Guy

The lonely man stood in a ring holding tight to theropes. His head was bald. His chest was hairy andsweaty. His legs looked like they were planted to theground like stumps. His muscles were relaxed in thedark ring. His mouth looked mean and tough the wayit was formed. He was solid looking. His boxing gloveshad blood stains on them. His still body structureglowed in the darkness. He braced himself againstthe ropes. His white pants had red stripes, the hair onhis chin prickled out like thorns.

In terms of detail, this paragraph is much bet-ter than the original. Nevertheless, I was struckby the monotonous nature of the sentences, al-most all of which begin with “his.” The details allhad equal grammatical status, since they all werepresented in independent clauses rather than sub-ordinate grammatical constructions. To my ear,this had created a boring, clumpety-clump rhythmwithin the paragraph.

What, I asked myself, would I do to help thewriter make the sentence structures themselvesmore interesting, and how could I develop one ormore minilessons using this piece of writing? Whatdetails would I subordinate? Indeed, what detailswould I group together before even trying to com-bine sentences and thereby subordinate some de-tails? In the revised paragraph, I marked sentenceswhose details I would combine. Here, one com-binable pair of sentences is indicated with italics,while a group of three is indicated with boldface:

The lonely man stood in a ring holding tight to theropes. His head was bald. His chest was hairy and sweaty.

I have also learned to

experiment with choices in

grammar and punctuation

that support, mirror, and

convey content.

ate a narrative sense ofmovement with the parti-cipial phrases in final po-sition. I think I haveaccomplished all fourgoals in this short excerpt.

Over the years, Ihave learned to address

these goals mostly as I write my first draft, insteadof having to go back later to deal with sentenceand paragraph structure in a separate revisioncycle. I have also learned to experiment withchoices in grammar and punctuation that support,mirror, and convey content (see Romano, 1998).But most important, I have learned to focus onusing certain grammatical constructions—namelyparticipial phrases, absolutes, and their place-ment—and that attempt, in turn, has nudged meinto adding details that convey images or ideas(Christensen, 1967, p. 26).

In Image Grammar (1999), Harry Noden dem-onstrates how to help writers appreciate andachieve such goals as I attempted with the white-water rafting piece—and many more. For example,he discusses a revision scenario described in Olsen’sEnvisioning Writing (1992). The teacher asked thestudents to write a brief character sketch. One ofthe sixth-grade students wrote the following:

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His legs looked like they were planted to theground like stumps. His muscles were relaxed in thedark ring. His mouth looked mean and tough theway it was formed. He was solid looking. His box-ing gloves had blood stains on them. His still bodystructure glowed in the darkness. He braced himselfagainst the ropes. His white pants had red stripes, thehair on his chin prickled out like thorns.

Next, of course, came the problem of order-ing. I decided to restructure one sentence and togroup together sentences that might go togetherin terms of content, with some details to be sub-ordinated in a next draft:

The lonely man stood in a ring holding tight to theropes.

His head was bald.The hair on his chin was prickling out like thorns.His chest was hairy and sweaty.

His muscles were relaxed in the dark ring.

He was solid looking.His legs were planted to the ground like stumps.His mouth was formed mean and tough.

His boxing gloves had stains on them.His still body glowed in the darkness.

He braced himself against the ropes.

Doubtless my reordering was influenced bythe fact that I already had some idea how I wantedto restructure the sentences. One version of a fi-nal draft could read as follows:

The Big Guy

The lonely man stood in a ring holding tight to theropes. His head was bald, the hair on his chin prick-ling out like thorns, his chest hairy and sweaty. Hismuscles were relaxed in the dark ring, but he was solidlooking, his legs planted to the ground like stumps,his mouth formed mean and tough. His boxing gloveshad blood stains on them and his still body glowed inthe darkness as he braced himself against the ropes.

In this particular revision, I created four new ab-solute constructions: the hair on his chin pricklingout like thorns, his chest hairy and sweaty, his legsplanted to the ground like stumps, his mouth formedmean and tough. Perhaps this was overkill, but atleast I had grouped and subordinated details tomake the sentences more interesting and the pas-sage more flowing. The student writer had already

added details after drawing a picture of the bigguy, but still needed help with recombining, reor-dering, and revising sentences. For ideas on re-

We need to take risks as

teachers in order to encour-

age our students to take

risks as writers.

combining and revisingsentences, look for any ofthe several books DonKillgallon has publishedon sentence composing,including not only atheory booklet but abook for high school, one for middle school, andone for elementary.

It’s unfortunate when we teachers ignore thepossibilities for revision in a piece like this student’soriginal, but instead see only a need for wieldingthe “red pen,” defacing the student’s work, andoften demoralizing the student as a writer. It isunfortunate when we assign writing and thensimply grade it, making the writing assignmentmerely an opportunity for testing. Much better tohelp students like the writer of “The Big Guy”become more proficient in writing by making thewriting situation an opportunity for genuine teach-ing.

As teachers, we need to help students learnvarious revision strategies at the sentence and para-graph level. Occasional minilessons like those Ideveloped with “The Big Guy” may help substan-tially, but they will still need to be followed by as-sistance in individual conferences or small groups.Incidentally, I have used this particular example inworkshops with teachers who never group or com-bine the sentences in quite the same way as I havedone! There is much opportunity here for experi-mentation and learning—both teachers’ learningand students’ learning. We need to take risks asteachers in order to encourage our students to takerisks as writers.

And we need to hold off with the infamous“red pen,” instead guiding students not only in sen-tence and paragraph revision but in editing, asSharon demonstrates in the next section. We needto hold off, becoming mentors and advocatesrather than adversaries. In short, we need to be-come more fully what we are: teachers.

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Sharon: Putting Conventionsinto Perspective and HelpingStudents EditRecently in my graduate class “Grammar forTeachers” with Connie Weaver, I read aloud thefollowing essay written by one of my eighth-gradestudents in response to the “Life Map Assign-ment.” (See Figure 5 for original assignment.)

My Grandfather’s Deathby Chasity

I still remember my mom in the living room with herbrothers as my grandfather took his last breath. I wasonly seven and I was the only kid there. I knew mygrandfather was sick for awhile and that he may diesoon, but I never thought that it would change mylife that much.

My mom was the saddest. She was a daddy’s girl,and as she rested her head on his arm, I couldn’t evenimagine what might be going through her head. Asshe walked in the kitchen, you could see the sadnessand misery on her face.

The next day was very hard for her and the fam-ily. When we went to the funeral home everyone washugging and kissing each other. I wanted to go upthere and see him, but that being the first time I hadever seen a dead body, I was a little scared to, so Imade my cousin Ashley go with me. He didn’t lookdead to me, he just looked like he always did excepthe was wearing a light blue dress shirt and he had avery peculiar smile. It was weird.

When “Amazing Grace” played, my mom burstout in tears with about seven other people that I saw.So I put my hand on hers thinking it would help, butshe cried more. I couldn’t even look at her.

When we went to the cemetery, my mom wasstaring at him going down, crying, but her eyes wereglowing. I could tell she was thinking about what hislast breath was: “I’ll tell Mom you said hi.” I knewshe was happy he went where he wanted to be—withhis wife.

My grandfather and I were very close. I some-times think of me on his lap with hot cocoa watchingScooby-Doo. Sometimes I think he’s still here withme, holding my hand, walking me through life.

When I finished reading this piece, I lookedaround the room at the tear-filled eyes. I was notsurprised—I had the same reaction when I readit. Then I asked them, “Would you FAIL thispiece?” They looked at me as though I had justarrived from outer space. Then I put Chasity’s

piece—exactly as she had written it when sheturned it in—on the overhead (see excerpt, Fig-ure 6). “Now what do you say?” I asked them.

This time they were silent for a different rea-son.

If a rubric were derived from the holisticscorepoint descriptions for grade 8 of the Michi-gan Educational Assessment Program (MichiganDepartment of Education, n.d.), Chasity wouldhave earned the lowest score—1—for conventions,because the surface errors in this piece severelyinterfered with understanding. But what aboutcontent and ideas? Organization? Style? Just asclearly, Chasity would score well in those areas.(See Figure 7 for the rubric I developed from theMEAP criteria for this particular assignment.)Would it be fair for Chasity to fail based on thenumber of convention errors?

I have to admit, when I first looked at Chasity’spiece I was perplexed, and it took several attemptsbefore I could decipher what she was trying to say.But once I realized the depth of her feelings andher ability to articulate them, I was completelytaken aback. Chasity is one of those students wecall “resistant” and “reluctant.” She doesn’t handin a lot of work, and what she does hand in isn’talways up to par. I couldn’t help thinking it wasno wonder; she must be a discouraged student—and a discouraged writer. But this! This piece hadstyle and voice. It had depth and feeling. Clearlyshe had created pictures in my mind, and she hadevoked an emotional response. For the first time,Chasity had handed in a completed piece of writ-

Life Map Assignment

Students make a list of at least 15 events that have occurredin their lives. Once they generate the lists, they make a lifemap on a 16 x 20 sheet of tag board depicting those events.They can be as creative as they want, but they must startwith their birth dates and chronologically show at least 15events, including the date and a word or two describing theevent, and draw a symbol representing the event. Once thelife maps are finished and displayed in the room, we beginthe writing—simply writing the story of one of the eventsfrom the life map.

Figure 5. Life map assignment

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ing. I wanted to support her, assure her that thisreally was a good piece of writing, and that wecould work on editing the piece together. I knewbeyond a shadow of a doubt that if I handedChasity’s story back to her full of correction marks,she would likely shut down again. She had taken arisk, and I did not want to discourage her.

This was our first serious piece of writing thisyear. We had already spent some time revisitingthe writing process and had practiced prewriting,drafting, revising, and editing. Before gettingstarted on this writing assignment, we did someminilessons on introductions and conclusions, andwe talked about what it means to stay focused andorganized. We read some personal narratives anddiscussed what was good, what we liked, and whatwe didn’t like. I instructed them to make me laugh,

Figure 6. Excerpt of Chasity’s essay

make me cry, but make me do something when Iread their papers. “Put me there! Make picturesin my head as I read your papers!” I told themdramatically. “Put a WOW at the end!” I gavethem a “Life Map Essay” rubric consistent withour state assessment for eighth grade (Figure 7)and asked them to score their own writing beforeturning it in for me to score.

Chasity had, indeed, created pictures in myhead. I could vividly see her mother, a daddy’s girl,resting her head on her dying father’s arm. I couldfeel Chasity’s pain and confusion as she tried toconsole her inconsolable mother, only to see hercry more. But what about the misspellings, themisplaced periods and commas, the lack of quota-tion marks . . . ?

Like so many of my colleagues, I strive to bethe best English teacher I can possibly be, so Ipersistently ask myself, “What is best for my stu-dents?” Research consistently shows teachinggrammar in isolation does not work: most studentsdo not remember it, and they seldom transfer itto their writing. As Weaver noted in Grammar forTeachers (1979): “There seems to be little value inmarking students’ papers with ‘corrections,’ littlevalue in teaching the conventions of mechanicsapart from actual writing, and even less value inteaching grammar in order to instill these con-ventions” (p. 64).

The grammar debate rages not only in En-glish teacher journals, listservs, and classrooms,but also in my own head. Where does teachinggrammar fit in? Should I teach grammar in isola-tion (skill and drill) and have students identify partsof speech on worksheet after worksheet? Based oncurrent research, my experiences as a teacher, myparticipation in Third Coast Writing Project, andimprovement in my students’ writing, I think not.

Research over the last two decades gives usno reason to challenge these conclusions. So I askmyself, “Why should I waste valuable classroomtime fighting what has already been proven a los-ing battle?” The answer to this question was evenmore apparent with Chasity’s piece about hergrandfather. If Chasity had focused on conven-tions instead of content, I am not even sure she

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Figure 7. Life map essay rubric

Excellent,Outstanding,

Brilliant(EOB)

AlmostExcellent,

Outstanding,and Brilliant

MissedEOB, but isstill very

good

MissedEOB, but

isadequate

Notadequate

(You can dobetter)

Missing

Direct focus.(What the paper is about, withoutsaying, “This paper is about . . .”)

Stays on target.(Doesn’t go to the mall.)

Well organized.(There is a sequence.)

Richly developed supporting ideas.(It’s as though the reader was there.)

Vivid details and examples.(Use sensory images; make a picture inthe reader’s brain.)

Writing holds reader’s attention.(Reader didn’t want to stop reading.)

Writing achieves a sense of wholeness.(No gaps in the story. No “huh?”)

Writer displays control over language.(Best choice of words.)

Variety of sentence structures.(Not every sentence is the same numberof words.)

Few conventional errors.(PROOFREAD!!! Correct all the spelling,grammar, punctuation.)

Life Map EssayRUBRIC

(Based on MEAP Rubric)

WRITING PROCESS

Prewrite

Draft

Revise

Proofread and Edit

Published Piece

Interesting Essay

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would have tried writing the piece. I recalledWeaver’s advice in Teaching Grammar in Context(1996a):

To avoid stunting students’ growth as writers, we needto guide our students in the writing process, includ-ing the phases of revising and editing their sentencesand words. It would also be helpful to avoid correct-ing the kinds of construction that published writersuse with impunity and indeed with good effect. Andwe need to respond positively to the new kinds of er-rors that reflect syntactic risk and growth. Timeenough to help students correct these errors whenthey have gotten their ideas down on paper, experi-menting with language in the process. In short, theError Beast is to be welcomed and tamed, not slain.(p. 101)

I talked to Chasity before school the morningafter I read her essay. I told her that she had donea terrific job of putting me there with her, of mak-ing pictures in my mind and evoking an emotionalresponse. She seemed genuinely pleased. I explainedthat I was concerned about her editing, and askedher if she would conference with me individuallyso that we could edit it together. Thankfully, sheagreed.

In an article titled “Developing Correctnessin Student Writing: Alternatives to the ErrorHunt,” Lois Matz Rosen states:

Although numerous research studies show that thereis little or no transfer of learning from isolated drillsto actual writing experiences and that the time-in-tensive practice of the teacher’s “error hunt” does notproduce more mechanically perfect papers, this 100-year-old tradition still persists. (p. 139)

Later in the same chapter, Rosen goes on to sayResearch has never been able to show that circling allthe errors—the error hunt approach to marking—makes a significant difference in writing quality; in-stead it discourages the student whose paper is full ofmistakes and focuses students on errors instead ofideas. Students are more likely to grow as writers whenthe teacher’s primary purpose in reading student pa-pers is to respond to content. (p. 149)

With Weaver’s and Rosen’s advice fresh in mymind, Chasity and I sat down together. I askedher to read the piece to me exactly as she wrote it.She read it, and as I suspected she would, she readit as she intended it to be read. We talked about

Chasity had, indeed, created

pictures in my head. . . . But

what about the misspellings,

the misplaced periods and

commas, the lack of quota-

tion marks . . . ?

conveying meaning, and how important it was forthe reader to understand the significance of hergrandfather’s death. Suddenly, conventions andcorrect spellings had relevance. She cared aboutcorrectly placing periodsand commas. She ago-nized over her words andsentences. She correctedas she read, and as weconferenced, she beganto feel her way throughher corrections. She wasactually engaged in theediting process! Sheknew what she wanted to say, she just needed somehelp making the conventions correct. It was thefirst step in encouraging her to write more, readmore, participate in class more. In other words, itwas a step toward success. For me, it was confir-mation that “taming the Error Beast” truly wasbetter than trying to slay it.

I have come to realize that I simply must al-low my eighth graders time to grow as writers,teach them to say what they mean first, encour-age them to effectively communicate theirthoughts and ideas. Writing is a process. It’s on-going and alive. Just like my kids.

ConclusionIn recent decades, as English language arts teach-ers have learned to teach writing instead of merelyassigning it, it has become increasingly obviousthat engaging and guiding students in the writingprocess instead of having them perform countlessgrammar exercises is a more effective way to teachwriting. The research clearly shows that most stu-dents do not transfer “skill and drill” into vivid,imaginative writing, or even into focused and in-teresting informational or persuasive writing thatcontains specific and precise vocabulary.

We need to analyze what makes our students’writing effective. Is it the organization? The spe-cific, even vivid details? What is it they do well?In all cases we have cited here, it was not the abil-ity of any of the students to regurgitate grammar

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terminology or label the parts of sentences thatmade their writing more powerful. It was theirability to create images, evoke a response from thereader, and use the craft of writing to create bet-ter writing. We have found, too, that students whounderstand the importance of vivid detail in cre-

One way to gain more time for mentoring isto eliminate isolated study of grammar from thecurriculum, replacing it with minilessons andhands-on guidance in developing more effectivesentences and paragraphs, followed by assistancein learning to edit.

Perhaps we will need to assign fewer writingprojects in order to spend time helping studentspolish some pieces of writing, but the results arewell worth it in students’ self-esteem, willingnessto write, and increasing ability to demonstratemore aspects of good writing with less directionand guidance. In this respect, too, we have foundthat less is more.

Many students of language, especially lin-guists, argue for restoring grammar to the cur-riculum. But when we examine their arguments,we discover that they, too, do not usually meanthat we should return to teaching traditional gram-mar from a grammar handbook. Typically, theymean that we should explore some of the inter-esting phenomena about language structure—in-teresting, but often not directly related toimproving our writing. They mean that we shouldstudy language more broadly, including dialects,language history, and the origins and meanings ofwords and word parts. They mean that we shouldstudy theories of how language develops, univer-sals in language development, and how languageis acquired in a child’s early years. They mean thatwe should study how people use language to exer-cise power and control over others. Some of themalso mean that we should teach grammar in thehope of improving students’ writing—thoughthey’re not agreed as to which grammar. Theymean all of these and more—but not that we shouldteach traditional schoolbook grammar.

We agree that language study is important andcan be made interesting, meaningful, and usefulto students. We agree that language study shouldbe included in the English language arts curricu-lum. But this is not “teaching grammar,” as con-ceptualized by many teachers and mostadministrators, parents, and the public. We agreethat “grammar” should be taught, too, but only asit aids writing, or in an elective course. Thus we

ative writing find it easierto grasp the importanceof specific detail in infor-mational and persuasivewriting.

Through miniles-sons, writer’s workshop,and conferencing, weteachers can help stu-dents determine a pur-pose and audience for

We need to be mentors and

master craftspersons who

assess their writing only after

helping them improve it,

which in turn helps them

write more effectively the

next time.

their writing, work with them to develop ideas,and guide them in organizing and reorganizingtheir piece of writing, as necessary. Our role aswriting teachers does not stop here, however, norshould we leap from this point to wielding the redpen in a bloody and usually futile attack on the“Error Beast.”

Instead, as we’ve tried to demonstrate in thisarticle, we teachers need also to help students addeffective detail through constructions like apposi-tives, participial phrases, absolutes, and the other“brush strokes” and constructions that HarryNoden describes in Image Grammar. We need tohelp them manipulate elements within sentences,and sentences within paragraphs. Furthermore, weneed to help students learn to edit for the con-ventions of writing. This is not a one-time pro-cess, because noticing and revising our departuresfrom convention is not an easy task, even for mostadults. Furthermore, learners make new kinds oferrors as they try new things in their writing(Weaver, 1996a). We need to be students’ advo-cates rather than their adversaries, appreciatingtheir risk taking and guiding them as writers in-stead of just grading their writing. We need to bementors and master craftspersons who assess theirwriting only after helping them improve it, whichin turn helps them write more effectively the nexttime.

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strongly proclaim, “To grammar or not to gram-mar: That is not the question!” It’s a question ofwhy, when, what, and how to teach selected as-pects of grammar, in order to strengthen students’writing.

ReferencesBradbury, R. (1990). The foghorn. In The golden apples

of the sun (pp. 1–9). New York: Avon. (Originalwork published 1952, Curtis.)

Christensen, F. (1967). Notes toward a new rhetoric: Sixessays for teachers. New York: Harper & Row.

Hillocks, G., Jr., & Smith, M. W. (1991). Grammar andusage. In J. Flood, J. M. Jensen, D. Lapp, & J. R.Squire (Eds.), Handbook of research on teaching theEnglish language arts (pp. 591–603). New York:Macmillan.

Lowry, L. (1993). The giver. Evanston, IL: McDougalLittell Literature Connections.

Michigan Department of Education. (n.d.). Michiganeducational assessment program. http://www.meritaward.state.mi.us/merit/meap/index.htm/ (5 Dec. 2000).

Michigan State Board of Education. (1994). Assessmentframeworks for the Michigan high school proficiencytest in communication arts. Part I: Writing.Lansing, MI: Michigan Department of Education.

National Council of Teachers of English and Interna-tional Reading Association. (1996). Standards forthe English language arts. Urbana, IL: Author.

Noden, H. (1999). Image grammar: Using grammati-cal structures to teach writing. Portsmouth, NH:Boynton/Cook.

Noguchi, R. R. (1991). Grammar and the teaching ofwriting: Limits and possibilities. Urbana, IL:National Council of Teachers of English.

Olson, J. (1992). Envisioning writing: Toward anintegration of drawing and writing. Portsmouth,NH: Heinemann.

Romano, T. (1998). Breaking the rules in style. In C.Weaver (Ed.), Lessons to share: On teaching gram-mar in context (pp. 184–208). Portsmouth, NH:Boynton/Cook.

Rosen, L. (1998). Developing correctness in studentwriting: Alternatives to the error hunt. In C.Weaver (Ed.), Lessons to share: On teaching gram-mar in context (pp. 137–155). Portsmouth, NH:Boynton/Cook.

Weaver, C. (1979). Grammar for teachers: Perspectivesand definitions. Urbana, IL: National Council ofTeachers of English.

Weaver, C. (1982). Welcoming errors as signs ofgrowth. Language Arts, 59, 438–444. Reprinted inWeaver, 1996a.

Weaver, C. (1996a). Teaching grammar in context.Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook.

Weaver, C. (1996b). Teaching grammar in the contextof writing. English Journal, 85, 15–24.

Woltjer, S. (1998). Facilitating the use of description—and grammar. In C. Weaver (Ed.), Lessons to share:Teaching grammar in the context of writing (pp.95–99). Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook.

Constance Weaver teaches at Western Michigan Universityin Kalamazoo, Michigan. She can be reached at [email protected].

Carol McNally is a literacy specialist at Springfield Middle Schoolin Battle Creek, Michigan. She can be reached at [email protected].

Sharon Moerman is an eighth-grade teacher at Watervliet Middle Schoolin Watervliet, Michigan. She can be reached at [email protected].

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