thoughts, musings, and the occasional deep dive
Posted on January 8, 2025
It started with a simple recommendation from a teacher friend: "Just try writing three pages every morning before you look at your phone." At first, I was skeptical. Who has time for that? Between grading papers and lesson planning, my mornings were already rushed.
But something about the idea stuck with me. Maybe it was the growing sense that my own creativity had been pushed aside by the daily demands of teaching. Perhaps it was the realization that I was asking my students to write regularly while neglecting my own practice.
So I started small—just 15 minutes before the household stirred. Armed with a cup of tea and a simple notebook (nothing fancy, pressure is the enemy of creativity), I began writing whatever came to mind.
The first week was rough. My inner critic was loud: "This is pointless. You're just writing about how tired you are." But I stuck with it, and something magical happened around day ten.
I started noticing patterns in my thinking. Little seeds of ideas began appearing on the page. A memory from childhood. A conversation overheard at the grocery store. A question about why clouds move the way they do. Nothing profound, but all uniquely mine.
By the end of the month, those morning pages had become sacred. They weren't about producing perfect prose—they were about creating a space where my mind could wander freely. Some days I wrote about classroom challenges, other days about dreams or recipe ideas. The content wasn't important; the practice was.
What surprised me most was how this habit began affecting my teaching. I found myself more present with my students, more attuned to their creative struggles. I began sharing snippets of my morning writing journey, and several students adopted the practice themselves.
Three months in, I can say with certainty that morning pages have transformed not just my writing but my relationship with creativity itself. They've taught me that inspiration isn't something you wait for—it's something you cultivate through showing up, day after day, pen in hand.
For anyone feeling creatively stuck, especially fellow teachers whose energy goes to nurturing others' creativity, I offer this simple advice: give yourself the gift of morning pages. Your ideas are waiting to be discovered in those quiet morning moments, one page at a time.