Teacher: “For the holidays, I would like everyone to write an essay with their thoughts upon tradition.”
Student: “How long should it be?”
Teacher: “Use a standard 5 paragraph format. I expect at least 1 page from each of you.”
If you have spent any time in the classroom, this scene should not be at all foreign to you. I still cringe every time I see it played out—the fact that we measure quality in terms of length when the two are really independent variables. However, I blame neither the teacher nor the student. The student has come to expect specific directions on how to do every assignment. Meanwhile, the teacher realizes many students will be lost without some sort of standard to be measured against. Unfortunately, the dangerous cycle is perpetuated.
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In reality, some people can say so very much with a simple message scrolled on a wall. Meanwhile, nothing can be said with oh so many words. (Politicians are particularly adept at this.) The mark of great writers is not how many words they use, but which ones. The art of brevity and choosing the right words is a fine one; it is also becoming increasingly important as our information overload continues. Those who master the art of brevity hold great power.
If we recognize that the art of brevity is an important one, why do absurd length requirements continue to be enforced? I understand the student’s need for some sort of standard scaffolding to write with, but how about trying a new one? Instead of having requirements, how about constraints? Force students to think about each and every word by limiting the number of words allowed. Try it yourself—can you tell a fragment of a story in just 140 characters?
This is not a new concept; I have participated in many chain stories where each contributor adds just a single sentence. However, using the power of Twitter, we get Twittories. By using the power of the network, a very interesting collaborative story is being developed. Since the contributors come from so many cultures, the perceptions and voices vary and add an element of surprise to the story—you never know what will come next. If you haven’t already, register to participate in a little collaborative, creative and brief writing.

What if students were asked to do the same thing? Imagine the thought which would have to be put into each and every word if the grade was based upon only 42 of them. Students would learn the art of brevity, and how to use their entire vocabulary to express their ideas clearly. It is not what is said, but what is not said.
What are your thoughts on brevity? How do you teach it in class? In the spirit of word choice, see if you can keep your comments to under 42 words. How concise can you be?
Or, in another word: brevity.
Continue reading ‘Teaching Brevity’
Teaching Brevity


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