From Writer’s Workshop to Writing Revolution: Why Writing Looks Different—and Why Teachers Are Struggling With It

When Writing Instruction Changed: What We Lost, What We’re Gaining

The Writer’s Workshop Era

For nearly two decades, the Writer’s Workshop model dominated classrooms across America. Popularized by Lucy Calkins and her Units of Study for Writing, the approach emphasized voice, choice, and authenticity. Students were encouraged to “live like writers” — to see themselves as authors who drew inspiration from their own lives. As Calkins once wrote, “Children need time to write, choice in their writing topics, and response from others” (Calkins, 1994).

The model was built on beautiful intentions — nurturing creativity and confidence. Students spent long stretches of time drafting personal narratives, revising stories, and sharing their work during “author’s chair.” The classroom buzzed with the language of writers. On the surface, it looked like deep learning: journals filled with stories, bulletin boards covered in student books, and teachers conferencing with young authors.

Due to this, it is not very surprising that one of the concerns I hear most often from teachers is about writing.

I hear:

• “My students aren’t writing as much as they used to.”

• “Their writing isn't as good.”

• “Are we losing creativity?”

• “Is explicit writing instruction hurting their voice?”

And underneath those questions is something deeper: Change is hard. Especially when what we used to do felt good, looked beautiful on the walls, and produced pages and pages of student work.

And now, as we shift toward explicit, structured writing instruction aligned with the science of reading, teachers are feeling the tension. The writing looks shorter. The tasks look simpler. The outcomes look less polished.

They look at what students used to produce and at what they’re producing now and wonder, “Did we make a mistake?”

Why It Didn’t Work

While Writer’s Workshop promoted self-expression, it often neglected explicit instruction in the foundational skills that make writing coherent, fluent, and precise. Many students were asked to write before they were equipped with the linguistic tools to do so. They had ideas — but not the syntax, grammar, or sentence-level control to express them.

Without systematic instruction in sentence structure, vocabulary, and text organization, students—particularly those with limited language—fell further behind. Writing became an act of frustration rather than empowerment. As The Writing Revolution authors Judith Hochman and Natalie Wexler explain, “Students can’t write well because they don’t know how sentences work.” The absence of structured, cumulative instruction meant that students never mastered the building blocks of written language. Instead of internalizing how ideas connect within and across sentences, they were asked to jump directly into crafting essays or narratives, often producing underdeveloped and disorganized work.

The result? Many children appeared “proficient” because they filled pages — but the quality of their writing, spelling, and syntax revealed deeper gaps. They lacked “sentence comprehension” — the ability to understand and produce complex syntax, which is foundational not just for writing, but for reading comprehension as well.

What the New Writing Instruction Looks Like (and Why It Seems Like It Isn’t Working)

Today’s writing instruction looks different — and it can seem less “creative.” Students are practicing sentence combining, sentence expansion, dictated sentences, and writing from text. They are spending time explicitly learning how words work together, how sentences connect, and how paragraphs are structured.

To a teacher used to the workshop model, this can feel rigid or “scripted.” The colorful journals and personal narratives have been replaced with structured tasks: responding to texts, summarizing, and constructing evidence-based sentences. It’s easy to worry, “Are they writing enough? Are we killing creativity?”

But as Wexler reminds us, “You can’t think critically or express yourself clearly if you don’t have something substantive to say.” The new model of writing instruction recognizes that writing and reading are reciprocal processes. Writing instruction strengthens decoding, vocabulary, and comprehension — but only when students have sufficient knowledge and explicit teaching to support those processes.

In other words, it may look less like “writing” — but it’s actually building writers.

Why It’s Working

The shift toward explicit, structured writing instruction is backed by robust evidence. Programs and frameworks like The Writing Revolution teach writing from the sentence up — ensuring that students master syntax, grammar, and cohesion before moving to extended compositions. Students learn how to transform ideas into well-structured sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and paragraphs into essays.

This approach doesn’t eliminate creativity — it enables it. Once students understand how sentences work, they can play with structure, vary tone, and craft ideas that are both original and clear. Writing becomes an act of precision and power, not guesswork.

Students learn that writing isn’t about “what to write,” but how to write — how to connect sounds, words, and ideas systematically.

In the short term, the results may look modest: shorter writing samples, fewer personal stories. But in the long term, students gain lasting control over language. They move from writing “more” to writing better — with coherence, accuracy, and voice that comes from true understanding.

Closing Thoughts — From Flourish to Foundation

The shift from Writer’s Workshop to structured literacy in writing has caused discomfort, nostalgia, and even resistance. Teachers mourn the journals filled with personal stories and the joy of “choice writing.” But as Natalie Wexler pointed out, “We’ve been giving students writing assignments that are far beyond their ability to execute — and then wondering why they struggle.”

Rebuilding writing instruction around explicit skill development doesn’t diminish creativity; it equips students to realize it. When we teach children how sentences and ideas work, we’re not taking away their voice — we’re giving them the tools to amplify it.

Writing instruction today may not always look as beautiful on the bulletin board, but it’s building something much more powerful: writers who understand language, who can think clearly, and who can express ideas with confidence and precision.

And that’s what real writing instruction should do.

So, to all my nervous teachers out there, this is the messy middle of change—the part where old practices fade and new ones feel unfamiliar. But trust the process. Trust the research. Trust the slow, steady building of skills that will pay off in ways you may not see until months from now.

Your students are not losing writing. They are gaining the tools to truly become writers.

And you are leading them there—one explicit lesson, one modeled sentence, one small breakthrough at a time.

When we know better, we teach better.

See you next Sunday!

References

• Calkins, L. (1994). The Art of Teaching Writing. Heinemann.

• Hochman, J., & Wexler, N. (2017). The Writing Revolution: A Guide to Advancing Thinking Through Writing in All Subjects and Grades. Jossey-Bass.

• Wexler, N. (2019). The Knowledge Gap: The Hidden Cause of America’s Broken Education System—and How to Fix It. Avery.

• Reading Rockets. (n.d.). My First Graders Aren’t Producing Much Writing? Help!

• Reading Rockets. (n.d.). How Can We Take Advantage of Reading–Writing Relationships?

• Reading Rockets. (n.d.). What Teachers Need to Know About Sentence Comprehension.