Originally published in TEACH Magazine, June 2026 Issue
By Dr. Alexis L. Hamlor
In my years as an educator, I’ve watched some of the most charismatic students captivate their peers—turning into straight-up comedians, reading the room, and shaping their stories in real time. Yet, during writing assignments, when I ask for that same expressiveness on the page, the confidence disappears. This is typically misread as a skill gap or lack of effort, but in my experience, it’s often self-protection.
For many students, writing can feel permanent and risky. Words travel. They get repeated, misinterpreted, and used against you. Students understand this long before adults name it, and they bring that awareness into classrooms, guarding their language carefully because they know their words carry weight.
When Writing Feels Too Personal
I had one particular high school student who was athletic, funny, and a natural storyteller. In class discussions, he could hold the room with ease, offering sharp observations and perfectly timed humour. But when it came to outlines, drafts, or essays, he disengaged. He would rather pass the ball—or even be benched—than take the winning shot.
I still remember his response when I pushed: “Nah, Miss, chill. I ain’t trying to have people all up in my business.”
He wasn’t avoiding work. He was protecting himself.
That moment clarified something I don’t think we say often enough in writing instruction: resistance is often self-protection. The issue wasn’t effort or ability. It was control—who gets to decide how much of a student’s inner world becomes public. Once I understood that, my approach to teaching writing had to change.
The realization didn’t happen in isolation. It became a recurring conversation during planning meetings with colleagues. Across classrooms and content areas, we kept returning to the same question: How do we help students translate their feelings, passions, and perspectives onto paper without watering down their ideas, especially when many are not comfortable being that vulnerable on the page?
When writing feels like exposure, I’ve found that students tend to guard their language. This often shows up as hesitation, restraint, and self-editing that have nothing to do with ability. It pushes educators to ask a harder question: How do we shift the narrative so students understand that their story—no matter how complex or personal—belongs to them, and that owning it can be a source of strength rather than risk?
Start with Trust
For me, the answer began with trust.
I realized that students needed to see me before they could trust the process, so I began sharing more of my own story. Not as a performance, but as context. I talked about my humble beginnings, my family, my upbringing, the peer pressure I navigated, and the setbacks I experienced along the way. I shared pieces of my own writing, photos from my childhood, and moments that shaped who I became as both an educator and an author.
Taking off the teacher hat, even briefly, allowed students to see me as someone who came from a real place, carried real experiences, and was proud of where I came from. That transparency changed the room. Students listened differently. There were moments of quiet recognition, occasional oohs and aahs, and a noticeable shift in curiosity. They began to realize that I wasn’t asking them to do something I had not done myself—and that connection mattered more than any mini-lesson ever could.
Give Writing a Real Audience
I also changed how we celebrated writing. Instead of treating storytelling as a one-time, high-stakes assignment, I created a publishing party. Staff members, school leaders, and families were invited to listen as students shared their work. Some presented written pieces. Others used digital formats, audio recordings, artwork, or music. Students answered questions afterward, spoke about their process, and owned their work in ways they had not before.
What started as a risk became a ritual.
The event was such a success that other teachers began trying it in their own classrooms. As we moved into new literacy units and genres, students were soon looking forward to the celebration at the end. There was food, laughter, and good energy, but more importantly, there was purpose.
Leading up to the event, students critiqued one another’s work with intention. They gave feedback before sharing publicly, refining details, strengthening dialogue, and pushing each other to go further. Even students who once held back—like the charismatic storyteller who wanted no part of writing—were now saying things like, “No, this needs more detail,” or “You should add dialogue here.”
That was when I knew the narrative had shifted. What once felt risky became empowering. Passion, which had always lived in students’ voices, finally found its way onto the page. They were no longer consumed with saying too much or too little. They were focused on telling their stories—on paper, with purpose.
Three Exercises Teachers Can Try
There are a few lessons I carry from that experience:
- Don’t rush to label writing resistance as laziness or defiance. Sometimes students are protecting something tender. When we misread that, we risk pushing harder when what they really need is safety, choice, and trust.
- Model without oversharing. Students do not need a performance from us, but they do need to see that writing is human work. When teachers share thoughtfully—showing students that risk, identity, and voice are part of the process—trust deepens.
- Give writing a real audience. When student work is written only for a grade, it can feel transactional. When it’s written for a real audience, it becomes purposeful. That audience does not have to look the same for every student. Some may want to read aloud. Others may prefer recorded audio, artwork, slides, or music. The point is not to force one format, but rather to help students communicate in ways that still honour their boundaries.
Ways Teachers Can Start Small
As educators, you don’t need to overhaul an entire writing curriculum to start shifting the narrative around student writing.
- Start by offering students more choice in how they share their work. A final product doesn’t always have to be a traditional written piece that gets read aloud in front of the class. Some students may be more willing to share through audio, visuals, spoken word, slides, or mixed media.
- Build in small moments of teacher modelling. That might mean sharing a short personal reflection, a rough draft, or a piece of writing that shows revision in progress. The goal is not to overshare, but to make the writing process feel more human and less performative.
- Create peer feedback routines that feel supportive instead of high stakes. Students are more willing to take risks when the classroom culture makes revision feel normal, collaborative, and safe.
- And when possible, create a moment of celebration at the end of a unit. It does not have to be elaborate. A small showcase, gallery walk, recording station, or class publishing day can give student writing a purpose beyond just a mark in the gradebook.
Let Students Own the Page
Changing the narrative around student writing doesn’t require a new curriculum or a scripted program. It requires a mindset shift—one that recognizes vulnerability as something to be supported, not demanded.
Students don’t need to be pushed to “open up.” They need structures that protect them, choices that honour their boundaries, and opportunities to share in ways that feel purposeful rather than performative. When students know their story belongs to them, they write differently.
The passion was always there. The stories were always there. What changed was the space we created for them to exist.
And when that space is built with care, writing stops being something students fear, and instead becomes something they own.
Dr. Alexis L. Hamlor, EdD, is an educational leader, a writer, and a scholar-practitioner with more than a decade of experience across New York City public and charter schools. A former special education teacher, mentor, instructional coach, and Dean of Special Education, she supports inclusive instruction, compliant service delivery, and educator development. Connect with her on Substack and Medium.
