Teaching in today's climate is undeniably challenging, and it's increasingly difficult to gauge the tangible impact we're making on our students' lives. The demands are immense, the resources often scarce, and the moments for reflection can feel nonexistent. In such an environment, it’s easy to lose sight of the profound difference we strive to create.
Sometimes, however, stepping outside the immediate classroom setting offers a crucial shift in perspective, allowing us to truly see the power of our work and what we are capable of achieving. This personal narrative aims to explore just that—how stepping back can illuminate the impact we've had and the potential we continue to hold.
Note: I have changed the name and other identifying details in this narrative to protect the writer's privacy.
This personal narrative, "Making a Difference," stems from my recent experience at a writing project advanced institute this summer. I had the privilege of attending alongside an inspiring group of educators, some of whom are still deeply engaged in classroom teaching, while others, like myself, have transitioned out of that daily setting. A central focus of the institute was to cultivate our leadership skills and explore impactful ways to support teachers who are dedicated to fostering writing in their classrooms.
I first had the pleasure of attending the writing project’s invitational summer institute in 2016. After that, I continued teaching for several more years while also pursuing my master’s degree, working through the National Board certification process, serving as the writing project’s graduate assistant, and eventually discovering the fascinating world of writing centers. Back in 2016, I wrote about how profoundly important teaching was to me and how my own teachers had truly altered the path of my life. My students, too, have since shaped my journey in new and unexpected ways. However, I haven't yet shared much about this exciting next chapter—and how it can equip me to better support, and perhaps even serve as a helpful sidekick to, our everyday heroes: those dedicated English teachers who are in the classroom doing such vital work.
The story of "Gustavo" (whose identifying details I've changed to protect his privacy) serves as a powerful illustration of this impact, demonstrating that even a brief, focused intervention can have a significant and lasting effect.
Making a Difference
By Michelle Boyd Waters, M.Ed.
When a lawyer asked Taylor Mali what teachers do, the poet famously replied that teachers make a difference. I love his irreverent poem, and I can see the difference that teachers have made in my life. But as a teacher, I struggle to see how I’m making a difference in students' lives, especially since I only have them in my classroom for a limited amount of time.
Yet every August during our professional days, my principals would remind my colleagues and me that teachers are the number one in-class variable that impacts student learning. Then when I go to Mardel or the dollar store on Teacher Appreciation Day, the shelves of knick-knacks remind me that “teachers plant the seeds of knowledge that will grow forever.” Yet I sometimes feel like I have to wait years to see the fruits of my labor—even when I have students in my classes for three years.
Even so, just like so many of my colleagues, I would show up at school everyday, meet students where they were, provide them with the support and information and learning contexts they needed to learn and grow as writers, scientists, mechanics, historians, doctors, lawyers—and yes, future educators. We often do this with few resources, too many students, and barely enough time to catch our breath through the day, much less stop to notice the difference that we’re making.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the classroom to start my PhD program was that I was able to breathe again. My anxiety tapered down from a 10 to a 4. (Anyone who says that earning their PhD was the hardest thing they’ve done has never taught six hours of seventh graders the year they returned to school after the pandemic.) I could take a deep breath, relax, sit, and think about the pedagogies I was using in the classroom. And then my professors introduced me to the theorists whose work supports the pedagogies that truly do help students learn* — theories that helped me articulate what I already knew: That writing is a complex system of thinking processes that results in multiple drafts of texts using an iterative series of actions to achieve a final draft. Or that students learn best from others who are more knowledgeable. Or that students interpret their abilities based on their previous performances, the level of performance they've seen from others, feedback from their peers and teachers, and their current emotional state.
Even knowing all of that, how could I ever catch my breath long enough to put these theories into practice? And could those theories answer my questions about how I could truly make a difference in students’ lives? I discovered one answer to these questions at the OU Writing Center. In my first week as a consultant in August 2022, I wrote the following in response to one of our orientation writing prompts:
During my journey as an English teacher, I discovered that I do not like being the “sage on the stage.” It makes more sense to me to sit down with a writer or group of writers and help guide them to convey the message they want for the purpose they want to a specific audience. So far, I am seeing that the OU Writing Center is set up to enable consultants to intentionally nurture writers in their authorial journeys, and I want to learn how to be better at doing this. I am wanting to learn more effective strategies for working with writers.
I am looking forward to seeing writers grow, even if I only see them once for 30 minutes. I am looking forward to getting to know the other consultants and being part of a community of writers who strive to support each other, understanding that we are all writers/communicators.
Since then, I have had the opportunity to consult with more than 600 writers, including everyone from local high school students writing scholarship essays to engineering students in their PhD programs writing dissertations or journal articles.
The one story that stands out for me is that of Gustavo*, an older gentleman who had retired from the mining industry and was now employed in one of the facilities support services at the university. I sat down with him in the writing center four times during the summer session of 2024. He had scheduled an appointment with the writing center because he had a goal — and the only thing standing in his way was his personal statement. He wanted to start a PhD program so that he could develop programs that would help prevent workplace injuries. He’d already applied once and been rejected, so he was asking for help to try again.
The first thing I noticed about Gustavo is that he was a quiet, unassuming man who’d clearly been around long enough to see a few things. We sat down at one of the round tables in the writing center and, in measured words, as he took time to find the right turn of phrase, he told me his goal and showed me his personal statement.
I looked at his first paragraph, and right away noticed what was holding him back. He had written:
My aspiration for a Ph.D. in Organizational Leadership has broadened my perspective, guiding me toward something impactful and personally resonant. My drive to engage with the broader community has always been strong. I have resolved to advance my work as a vocational skills instructor. I believe this degree can equip me to achieve my objective of influencing communities and entities that appear to be navigating constant transitions.
The problem, as I saw it, was that his words were abstract, generic, and used a lot of vague language and aspirations — but said absolutely nothing about him. So I asked him to share his story with me.
As he was telling me about his life, I wrote down some of the details and shared them with him in my session notes:
Below are some of the comments you made that stood out to me as being important to include in your statement:
- “I retired from the mining industry.”
- “I was seeing a lot of accidents that led me to get certified in health and safety. I am an OSHA trainer”
- “I have done numerous training in organizations where I see there is a great need for leadership and employee safety.”
- “I want to take my career beyond where I’m at to help organizations with their leadership and employees”
- “The number one problem I see is that there is no communication between employees and leadership. Collaboration means a lot.”
- “There is a great need. I want to be able to reach out to them.”
His personal statement looked nothing like this. And the missing piece was his story.. So I told him that he needed to include the details he had shared in our conversation. The next time he returned, I saw that he still needed to work in telling his story. So we talked, and I shared my advice in my session notes:
Notes for changes to be made in document (see paper copy):
- Add this phrase you said: ...create custom retraining plans based on feedback from leaders and employees
- Make sure you include your life perspective and how that impacts your ability to implement the research methods you’ll learn about. Remember that you have a wealth of experience that you can rely on as you’re designing research studies and determining what information you need to solve the problems and gaps in knowledge you’ve discovered.
What gaps in knowledge and what problems have you already discovered? I suggest writing about your creativity and how you would use that to solve problems in your field.
- I recommend being more specific.
- What problem did you see?
- What solution did you recommend?
Here is an overall structure I recommend you use:
- Where have you been?
- What are you trying to accomplish?
- How can you and this program work together to do that?
We worked together on his personal statement every week for a month. He would make revisions, bring his draft in and I would remind him to be specific. I’d point out the places where he needed to add his story. And then the summer ended and I never saw him again...
...until I showed up for my first shift at the writing center in January 2025 and Melinda*, our administration assistant, said that Gustavo had stopped by the center looking for me the first day we’d opened. Naturally, my first thought was that I was in trouble. But I quickly reminded myself to step back from that mental ledge and ask questions. Melinda had no idea what he wanted, but noted that he said he’d stop by again. Sure enough, he dropped in on January 14 and handed me a purple envelope with a card in it. I pulled out the card and on the right side, it said: “You’ve made such a difference. So grateful for your support and encouragement.” In his cursive handwriting, Gustavo had written: “Thanks for everything and believing in Me. Gustavo
On the left side of the card, he’d written:
My acceptance date: December 2024.
Organizational Leadership PhD Program
If my work as an educator can have this much of an impact on someone who already retired from one career, attained a master’s level degree in one field of study and is seeking a PhD, how much more of a difference can I make in the life of someone who is just starting out — if I’m given the time, space, and resources?
*Flower and Hayes’ (1981) cognitive process of writing theory; Vygotsky’s (1980) sociocultural theory of writing; Parajes’ (2003) self-efficacy in writing