What makes this post weird, for me, is it started with having something to say. Lately, this is not how I write. Here is the origin story of my last several posts:
- “I have techniques for practicing multiplication with kids. Could I explain how I think they work in a coherent way?”
- “What does it mean for slope to increase so quickly as we approach 90 degrees?”
- “This stuff about history of algebra is so cool. There’s got to be a way I could write something about this.”
- “I’ve never collaborated on a piece about education or written about science communication before. Sounds hard!”
- “People tell me I should read this article. I should figure out what I think about it.”
And so on. Now, I don’t want to be facetious. It’s not like I start these projects without any thought about what I’m going to say. Usually it’s sort of a nascent take. It’s often extremely tentative: maybe I’ll end up saying…
The point isn’t that I go in to a piece of writing without anything in mind. The point is that all these recent posts have required active development. Through a combination of research, drafting and editing, I figure out what the post is about well after I decide to write it.
I mention all of this because I’ve been talking to people recently about why they stopped (or never started) blogging. Before you misunderstand my purpose, there’s nothing wrong with not blogging. Seriously: do whatever you want. I never want to be the guy to criticize someone for not doing something. As long as nobody’s getting hurt, don’t-do to your heart’s content.
Here’s the thing. A lot of people were telling me that they don’t blog because they don’t have ideas, or because they’ve already said what they want to say, or they don’t have the time, and so on and so on. These are all entirely legitimate reasons not to write — along with the very best reason, which is “I don’t feel like it.”
I worry, though, that in the online math teacher community (mtbos) the dominant, default view about writing is that it’s supposed to be easy. The expectation in our community is that writing about teaching is most appropriate as either an organic expression of your views or as a casual, nearly-personal record of your professional practice.
Now: this isn’t such a big deal! There is no crisis in the mathtwitterblogosphere — the community is growing, and pretty much everyone is having a fun, meaningful time. I certainly don’t see myself as a dork Cassandra.
(OK fine, just a bit.)
Here’s what I think might’ve happened. Blogging was a fantastic medium on which to build a math education community. The community’s initial growth was enabled by a particularly flexible type of writing — relatively quick posts that shared a brief, relatively unsexy thing about teaching. This wasn’t the only way to blog, but it was a fantastic, accessible genre for teachers who were new to the community. It was easy to dive in, and a lot of generous engagement resulted while knowledge and resources accumulated.
Along with this success, the community developed a series of (totally reasonable and beneficial!) norms around accessibility. Blogging doesn’t need to be anything fancy, and you don’t even need to worry about a reader — write for yourself, and if other people find it helpful? Hey, that’s a bonus.
People are justifiably sensitive about this point so let me say it again: I am not critiquing this view on blogging, or even its prominence in the blog-o’-land. It’s a message that maximizes accessibility, and that is probably the most important value of our community.
I think that now might be an especially good time to remind people that there’s another way to write in this community, which is to slowly, painstakingly, dutifully carve out posts. And — thinking entirely personally here — it’s just so, so much fun to write like that. You should try it! Taking writing seriously is a hoot.
Let’s get the costs out of the way: I spend a ton of my free time reading and writing. Call it whatever you want — hobby, avocation, craft — but it’s time-consuming. It’s also sometimes unnatural, in the sense that I have to search for something to say, and I need to figure out how to say it. (I still fire off a quick sharing post from time to time, but I’m drifting away from it.) And, because I work hard on this stuff, I sometimes get frustrated when my work is ignored or when I see myself as having failed.
So much for costs. The benefits: seriously, it’s a blast. I learn so much more from crafting a piece than from a post like this one, where I’m sort of just yapping. And, if the past is any indication, I’ll probably be a bit disappointed with the response to this post. Some folks will like it, others won’t, and that’ll be that. My longer, more complex pieces, though, have generated incredibly meaningful responses. I’m blown away by the comments people have left on these posts, and my email correspondence has been rich as well. And that’s all I’ve ever really wanted from this blogging thing — to get to write and to have it mean something real to my peers.
(It’d be nice to have writing in legit publications so my parents could have something to talk about, but that would just be a cherry on top of my current situation.)
What I’ve found, after a lot of stumbling and searching, is that an especially fruitful genre for me is review. Some of the most fun I’ve had writing (generating the most exciting responses) has come when I read a difficult book or article as best I can and try to make sense of it in writing.
I would love to read more complex, critical writing about reading, especially from teachers: won’t someone humor me?
Another type of post that I’m finding especially fun is the research/practice post. I find it a tricky balance. You need to tell two stories at once, taking care to weave them together without sublimating experience to research or dismissing serious findings. This type of piece also gives me that awesome feeling I had when I started blogging and people were still sharing the unsexy things — the feeling that, potentially, any classroom moment could be transformed into a post and thereby be significant beyond the moment itself.
This is another type of post that, while I suppose anyone in education could write it, is especially interesting to me coming from people in classrooms.
There’s a third type of post that I’ve been trying to figure out how to handle. I really want to get better at writing straight math. I want to learn how to apply what I know about teaching to the sort of content that I’m interested in learning about. And I’m also interested in using writing as an engine and discipline for learning new mathematics. My experience with the history of algebra essay was totally energizing; I’m ready for more.
But I’m also eager to read more writing about mathematics from the people who know the most about helping other people make sense of it. It’s a type of writing that is particularly apt for teachers to do, and yet I don’t see much of it.
These three areas — the review essay, the research/practice post, straight math — are some of my favorite types of writing to read, and I am especially interested in reading them from teacher-writers. My purpose here isn’t to nay-say what anyone else is doing. I just want to share how much fun, how rewarding it’s been to explore these areas in my own writing, and to try to entice someone else to start down a similar path.
These kinds of writing will always be hard and time-consuming. But so is making incredible math videos or putting together a presentation. I think there’s a community of writers out there in mtbos interested in playing around with writing, but I don’t think it’s come together quite yet. And maybe there are some people that are looking for a way in on blogging, but haven’t figured out how to make it click yet.
My message, then, is that writing is allowed to be easy, but it doesn’t need to be. Writing can be an effortful process that ends, but doesn’t start, with having something to say. It can involve research, months of planning, asking friends for editing and revising, revising, revising. And, when everything clicks, this sort of writing yields rewards different in kind to the rewards for the more common modes of blogging.
Blogging can be very, very hard but so much more fun.