I’ve been working on this article/piece/essay-thing about readability. I’m going to show my students in class today because I think it’s interesting (of course, I would, duh) and relates to WAC, but it’s been killing me. I want to finish–I started in November with the thinking–but I need three solid days to work and finish. I won’t get it. I need concentration time to pull it all together into a coherent whole, worry through my argument, fuss with the details. I decided to work in PowerPoint as a way to brainstorm, so I could: 1) work in chunks and easily drag around slides to new locations; 2) avoid having to worry about transitions while the thing is a work-in-progress; and 3) I thought it might just be fun (and it is). What I’m finding is that I need to make an argument concisely because I’m restricted to comments on one slide on one topic.
This experience might be the best one I’ve given myself as a writer in a long time–the pressure of spatial restriction. If you’ve read any of these blog entries (ha!), you’ll notice I can go on for a few pages with hardly breaking a sweat. I do value the long work, the long essay, the long novel, but concision, like folks learn who Tweet with expertivity–not so much in my repertoire.
So. I decided to post about my work on this topic–well, mention it in a post is more like it. And I’m proud to announce that the readability of this blog is about the 8th grade level (see below). I think I must naturally write that way because a lot of what I write is for the 13 year old in me (and I’ve measured a lot of things I’ve written–8th grade level). Really, I’m about 13 in my heart. My sixth graders got that about me. After I’d spent lunch drawing designs on the hands of several girls in the class with milk gel pens, one said to me, “You may not really be 13, but we’ll always think of you that way.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved as a teacher. Honest. THIRTEEN. ME. It was so cool. (You know how difficult teenage girls can be–ahem–a little frightening in packs.)
Those sixth graders kept me young (they should be out of college by now), but I think they are still keeping me 13ish. And perhaps I write for them still. I used to do a lot of writing for them–I wish I could make time every term to write for my students. This summer is the first time in a long time that I’ve made it part of the class, and I like this better than anything I’ve ever done as a teacher. It’s a lot of writing for me and for students, AND the topic is complex and implications of the theories are far-reaching, but still, I’m getting to write and having a great time doing it.
I think some of my posts are better than others, but writing is always an exciting ride. It’s slugging up the roller coaster, then it’s a thrilling, shocking drop and whip around a corner. And just when I think I can breathe again… nope. Can’t. Here comes another crazy turn or corkscrew or giant rise and fall. This is the reason a writer’s desk chair should have restraining bars, because sometimes a writer will go weightless and have to scream for joy and with just a touch of fear.
Check your own writing, or any writing, or URL at: The Readability Test Tool.
How this blog measures up, readability-wise...
write across this_________ 