When working with students, after a brief chat, I always start by asking them to read me their work. This gives me the chance to get to know them a bit as a writer: I get a feel for voice, organization, and content and then make a quick plan for proceeding.
On a coaching day last November, I was assigned a student new to Writing Coaches. Although a bit nervous, he seemed a willing participant. As he began reading his paper to me, I was struck by his impressive word choice and the overall flow of his writing. He seemed to have a good command of the prompt, yet I had a nagging feeling something was off.
Moving forward, we began to look more closely at his main points. I had him go back and read aloud again. When he stumbled over one of his “impressive” words, I wondered: was his paper AI-generated? It made sense then, the gnawing feeling I had of something being off. His speaking voice and his writing voice were not at all in sync.
Gently, I went back and I asked him what he meant. He hesitated briefly and then, looking sheepish, he admitted that the writing was not his. Not wanting to make it worse or judge in any way, I just asked him what he was trying to say. Immediately, he launched into a long and wonderfully descriptive explanation. My eyes got big and my smile even bigger as I told him that’s what writing was all about, that his stories, his opinions, his words were important. And that is what his teacher and every teacher wanted: HIS voice. Completely astonished, he responded with, “Really?” “Yes, really,” I repeated.
Since it was the end of our session, he quickly jotted down some of his ideas and left in an eager rush. I don’t know exactly what he did with that small nugget of advice. But I have to believe that he walked away knowing his words, his voice, his writing mattered.
