Abstract

Early September, the first day of classes. I am in my Adolescent Psychology class, and they are writ-ing. Only for five minutes, and I have given them two starting points. First, I asked them to write about any incident from the memories they have of adoles-cence, and then to try to write a definition of “adoles-cence. ” They are writing and thinking and creating and analyzing. Much to their surprise, they are finding out that they have something to say about both topics. I am at the front of class, having one of those moments of insight. Here I am, with writing happening in my classroom, and I am dealing with a classic case of writer’s block about the book chapter I have agreed to do on using writing in the course on adolescence. Perhaps there is some logic to this. I suspect the writer’s block I developed along the way comes from my not doing enough writing in the past. Knowing I have writer’s block is one reason I am open to ideas that will help others do a better job writing and help me do a better job myself. Snodgrass (1985) noted that the traditional use of writing in psychology courses is to evaluate students. We ask them to produce papers and exams and give them a grade, treating the papers and exams as proof of how well they have mastered the particular content area. She asked that we consider writing as some-thing more, as a process that can be an important tool