I ring the chimes in our meeting area, and the hubbub of excited voices comes to a halt, students’ hands go to their heads, and their eyes turn to me. “Writers, it’s time to share.”
Literal squeals can be heard as my kindergartners gather their writing from today to make their way to the rug. The date stamp quickly clicks today’s date on papers. Last-minute names are written. An internal debate of whether a piece should go on the finished or not-finished side of a child’s folder can be seen from across the room. Moments later, I’m looking at the backs of my writers watching the first child sit in the rocking chair and share their writing. The child finishes talking about the cotton candy they got at the fair this weekend and stands to go back to the rug. The other children erupt in applause and a chorus of “Good work, writer!”
If someone were to walk into our room during our writing share, they might wonder why we are using the term writer when in fact no conventional writing can be seen on any page. Honestly, most of the pieces of writing being shared look nothing like what the writer is describing. Someone may question what is happening and if it has meaning. It certainly does.
In these moments, when the word writer is intentionally used, the children are able to see themselves as writers. They are able to imagine what could be, to believe it’s possible to get there.
Standing on the work of Katie Wood Ray, Matt Glover, Kathy Collins, Kristi Mraz, and Donalyn Miller, my thinking about the critical importance of children’s identities as learners—in this case, as writers—is at the forefront of my work.
The moment a child goes from trying to write to being a writer is the moment the door to the world of possibilities opens for that child. As educators, we have a lot to do to set these moments up for our learners.
Our youngest learners are often underestimated, and because of that underestimation, they are overmanaged. We overstructure their days, overstructure their activities, and therefore overstructure their options for growth.
To become a writer, children need a few things: materials, opportunity, and authentic glimpses into what being a writer could be. The most important thing that children need to become a writer, though? Someone who believes it’s true.
Materials
In my kindergarten classroom, children have access to these materials anytime after each item has been introduced at the start of the year:
- Writing pens
- Golf pencils
- Markers
- Skin-tone markers
- Crayons
- Skin-tone crayons
- Date stamp
- Lined paper, plain paper, colored paper, sentence strips, big paper, index cards, and lots of scrap paper
- White tape
- Scotch tape
- Painters tape
- Scissors
- Glue sticks
- Liquid glue
- Stapler
- Staple remover
- Rulers
- Anchor charts
- Name tags (with alphabet strips and number lines on them)
- Word wall
- Name chart
- Letter line
- Environmental text
- Books…thousands of books
Opportunity
Opportunity for writing comes at almost any time of day. With open access to materials, children know they can write and create things during any part of our day. From labeling the train stations during play to building bigger number lines in math, the writing center is usually meeting the needs of at least one kindergarten customer at any given point.

At the start of the year, children have to learn what opportunity is. I intentionally walk children over to the writing center when they are playing doctor and pretending to write their report. I bring a stack of index cards and pencils with me to the restaurant that just opened in the dramatic-play area and ask what is on their menu. I teach them how to fold thick paper to make little signs and labels to save their Lego creations for later or to write “please be careful” near their block creations.

Children quickly catch on to the fact that this writing thing is powerful, that writing is meaningful. Soon they are making their own tardy slips as they play office and scorecards for the cars and trucks in the races. They learn that writing me notes helps my teacher brain remember things and that a simple note can brighten the day of a friend or grown-up. Children are soon asking to add environmental print around the room and are excited to share their hard work with all who enter.

The hardest part of opportunity is having adults provide children with the time and space to try things out and adjust and try again. Children need the freedom to create without fear of adults’ responses or judgment. Writing when you don’t know all your letter sounds or you’re unsure of letter formations is a scary thing. Adding a layer of fear of rejection or disinterest from the adults is something we can eliminate for them. Opportunity to write is an opportunity to be free, to create, to share what is important to you in that moment.
Glimpses
To be a writer, children need to see what it means to write. From writing names on name tags to writing myself notes, I find myself reciting my writing orally as I go, modeling the act of stretching out sounds, trying out different ways to say things, and pausing dramatically to allow for child input to pull children into the various stages of the writing process.
I talk about the authors of the books we read, and the text around our classroom and school. I point out the notes grown-ups send me and the purpose of the many forms of text we come in contact with each day.
Children latch on to the power of writing, the meaning it can hold, and grow from there. They are able to do it because they have seen the possibilities, they know it’s okay to make mistakes, they can use any material they feel they need, and they believe it’s important.

It’s On Us
When that tornado starts on the paper, it’s up to us to walk up to the writer and say, “Tell me about this” instead of “What is that? Let’s write about a real story.”
Vashti’s teacher saw her dot and believed she was an artist in Peter Reynolds’s The Dot…and in doing so, that art teacher saw a child who was unsure of herself and her abilities and gave her the chance to succeed.
When we believe in children and show them how to embrace the possibilities, we open their door to success and get to watch them journey through it. We must treat whatever they bring as the treasure that it is, a wonderful gift they are vulnerably sharing with us.