I was thrown into the deep end in my second year of teaching. Trained to teach math, and with a background in science, I was placed on the 8th-grade inclusion team—a team of three teachers and 65 students, where more than 25 of the students were in special education—and asked to teach classes in eight different subject areas, including social studies and conflict resolution. Besides cramming to prepare lessons on unfamiliar topics, I was still struggling to get a handle on how to manage a classroom. Let’s just say I was feeling less than “highly qualified.”
Despite my naïveté and lack of training—or perhaps because of it—I created some curriculum that year in that Massachusetts public school I feel really proud about. One unit in particular, The Résumé Project, stands out. The goal was to help students develop a new perspective on writing, so they would learn to value the revision process.
In many ways, the unit was a great success. A number of students had epiphanies about life, writing and identity—and honed their résumés to a razor-sharp clarity. But amidst the chaos of that year, my planning and relationship-building suffered, and other students were unable to make the same leap. I also failed to provide the long-term support students needed to cultivate their new skills and mindsets once the unit was over.
I think about The Résumé Project a lot, and would love to teach it again. The design of the unit is fundamentally sound and, with a bit of tweaking, it can help a student to see revision in a new light—not as an irrelevant exercise demanded by the teacher, but as a process for better understanding oneself.
TThe writing process in school tends to be fairly linear. To write a standard five-paragraph essay, we develop a thesis statement, create an outline with three supporting arguments and write a first draft. Then, in subsequent drafts, we revise our writing to make our points clearer, and fix spelling and grammar errors. Once an outline has been approved by the teacher and we actually start writing, our thesis statement and supporting arguments rarely change—we’re locked in.
If writing is simply a means to express a point clearly, then I guess a linear process makes sense.
But for me, outlines are like battle plans—they almost never survive contact with the enemy.
Once I put my thesis statement and supporting arguments into words, and can examine those words on paper, I often discover the brilliant case I was building meticulously in my head is a lot weaker than I thought—and I have to revise my arguments, and even my thesis, before I’m satisfied.
I value the writing process because it puts me in a position to evaluate and improve my own thinking. When I’m honing my words, I’m also honing what I think—and this makes me smarter over time. Learning how to persuade an external audience is important, but cultivating the mindset of writing down thoughts and then continuously revising those thoughts until I’ve persuaded myself first is even more so.
Let’s be clear: 8th-grade students don’t want to write résumés. They think it’s stupid. But a résumé is a lot more than a dull list of jobs, experiences and accomplishments. An effective résumé paints a portrait of the applicant, highlighting that person’s key characteristics. Consider the description of Alison’s babysitting experience below. What impressions about Alison might we form?
Alison has been babysitting for the Smith family for two years. At first, she was one of several rotating sitters used by the Smiths—but she quickly became their go-to option. Now Alison sits for the Smith children, Rob and Karen, one to two times a week. She also occasionally sits for other families referred to her by the Smiths.
Most evenings, Alison makes sure Rob and Karen finish their homework before they get an hour in front of the television or on the computer. For dinner, she used to reheat meals prepared by Mrs. Smith, but as the kids have gotten older, they like to help Alison in the kitchen as she prepares tasty salads, pasta dishes or sandwiches from scratch. They take turns clearing the dishes. If the Smiths are running late, Alison also gives the kids a bath, reads them a story and puts them to bed.
Alison has become a family friend. She is invited to birthday parties and, last year, the Smiths took her camping for a weekend during April vacation. When Rob’s pet turtle, Mr. Toad, died, she helped them set up a memorial by writing goodbye letters and making a slideshow and collage from old photos. A favorite group activity is tending to the row of planter boxes Alison helped the kids set up on the backyard patio.
In the first stage of The Résumé Project, students practice writing résumé entries for classmates, fictional characters and public figures. Interviewing and getting to know your peers is fun. Who knew the goofy kid in the corner has a green belt in karate? Trying to make a desired characteristic jump off the page is an interesting challenge. Can I write a babysitting entry using three supporting details to demonstrate Alison is responsible? How about caring, hardworking, resourceful or artistic?
In the second stage, students workshop individual résumé entries with peer editors. The criteria for a compelling entry is clear: does the reader infer the same characteristics from the entry the author intended? Because an entry is so short and direct—a heading and a list of supporting details, where each detail is literally a bullet point with one or two sentences and no padding or extra verbiage—it’s easy to produce a dozen variations before settling on the strongest one. But even more importantly, students learn there’s more to writing than phrasing and word choice. An effective résumé is based on a set of well-defined characteristics with strong supporting evidence.
The magic happens in the third stage. That’s when students start putting individual entries together to build their own coherent résumé—and make new discoveries about themselves along the way. For example, I may be trying to paint myself as creative, but the characteristic isn’t shining through to readers and I don’t know how to make my prose any clearer.
A peer editor can take a step back and offer a suggestion: “I see you as creative, but more as a problem-solver than as an artist. In these two experiences, you came up with an innovative design — but it’s because you were trying to solve difficult problems, not because you were trying to make things look pretty. Then, if you emphasize your creative problem-solving skills instead of your artistry, you can also include these two other experiences where you were really thinking outside of the box. That would make a compelling case!”
Suddenly, by writing and revising my résumé, I understand myself differently.
Our favorite résumés from The Résumé Project weren’t written by students who lead fabulous lives. OK, winning an essay contest and going to Space Camp is both cool and impressive, but my students were more in awe of the classmates who made the most out of every experience and stayed true to who they are. If Alison’s résumé is great, it’s not because she was lucky to be hired as a babysitter—it’s because she consistently displays the same great qualities in everyday situations.
Résumé writing triggered angst, soul-searching and even tears from some students.
How can I say I’m a leader if I only lead when assigned the role? Am I actually hardworking if I can’t build a strong case for it in my résumé? As a second-year teacher, these questions caught me off guard. I wish I had prepared a safer environment for students to explore and take on some of these issues. Sensing their pain, I did suggest students write the résumé they would like to write for themselves in two years—as a way to explore how to act moving forward. Surprisingly, few students listed cool experiences, such as going to Space Camp. They were far more focused on what readers could infer about them in everyday situations than on describing a fabulous life.
The other change I’d make if I were teaching The Résumé Project again is providing more help so students can cultivate their new skills and mindsets once the unit is over. Realizing that résumé writing can change how we think about ourselves is a powerful epiphany. By changing our perspective, an epiphany causes us to see with fresh eyes and question old assumptions. To follow up, I would pose an overarching question: “Does writing our thoughts down change what we think and do?” Then, I’d enable students to explore that question in a myriad of ways—from writing down plans and intentions to reflecting on experiences or visualizing future events in words. Instead of simply defending positions, I would also give students more opportunities to reason through and arrive at their own positions in writing. Along the way, students investigate how writing changes us.
To help students improve their writing, I would extend The Résumé Project with a unit on character study. First, they would write résumés for fictional characters—then short analyses with supporting evidence. Finally, students would develop characters in short scenes. What do I want a reader to infer about my character from this scene? Is it more effective to establish that my character is sad using adjectives, one “loud” action or lots of small actions? It would also be interesting to discuss if it’s possible—or ethical—to distort characteristics by cherry-picking details. Instead of demonstrating Alison is caring, can we portray her as overbearing?
Writing is more than a means to express ourselves—it’s also a process for revising and improving our thinking. As teachers and writers, we owe our students the opportunity to discover and apply this powerful tool. They will appreciate writing and revision in a completely different way.
