Why Can't We Write? The Competency Problem Ignored by the Education System

When we were children, adults would often ask, ‘What will you be when you grow up?’ to start a conversation. If you excitedly replied, ‘I'm going to be a writer!’, it was almost certain that a long lecture would follow: "Is there any work in writing? It doesn't make money... What will you do as a writer?" While I don't agree with this perspective, considering the country's conditions and the structure of our education system, I must admit that this approach has some valid points because our education system is largely shaped around multiple-choice exams. The way to prepare for exams full of multiple-choice questions is, of course, to solve a lot of tests. As a result, writing skills are naturally pushed into the background; writing, thinking, and expressing oneself are seen as a ‘luxury.’

Yet in the UK, the picture is completely different. Writing skills are at the centre of a child's learning journey from primary school onwards. Children don't just learn information; they learn to express their thoughts, create stories, and use language as a tool from an early age. Particularly in the process leading up to the GCSE exams taken by students at the end of their education, writing is seen not merely as a language skill but as a fundamental tool for thinking, analysing, and learning. After learning to read and write, children learn English grammar not through abstract rules but directly through texts.

Analysing a text, acquiring grammar within context, and producing writing become regular practice from primary school onwards. When I examined the practices in Years 5 and 6 of primary school, I saw that many writing skills that we only try to instil in the later years of secondary school or in sixth form in Turkey are established much earlier in the UK. 

The most important reason for this is that writing is treated as a step-by-step process rather than an end result. Students create drafts, receive feedback, rewrite, and take ownership of the final product. Writing becomes a way of thinking rather than an assignment.

At this point, I recall a recent talk by Dr Serkan Karaismailoğlu on the brain and learning. Karaismailoğlu emphasised that although pen use is declining in the digital age, writing remains one of the most powerful ways to ensure learning is lasting. Research supports this: writing by hand activates many more areas of the brain simultaneously than typing. Because motor movement, visual processing, and memory centres work together, information is embedded more strongly in long-term memory. When writing, children do not merely record information; they also process, categorise, and restructure it. Thus, writing becomes an action that strengthens the very act of thinking.

The impact of writing being so strongly supported in the UK is felt in children at a very early age. For example, in a project involving pupils from different cities and schools at the end of sixth grade, the pupils wrote a book together. This book was published and is now archived in major libraries, including the British Library. For a child interested in writing and who loves words, this experience was extremely valuable. Such practices not only create motivation but also make children with strong writing potential visible.

All these observations take me back to my own childhood. I still vividly remember a small poetry competition held at my school during my secondary school years. I was a student who was keen on writing and reading. When the results of the competition were announced, the moment when our headmaster read my name before the National Anthem and invited me to the stage is etched in my memory. He gave me a fountain pen as a gift. That pen was perhaps one of the most meaningful prizes I have ever received. It was a small gift, but it was a great catalyst. It was the first sign that reinforced the place of writing in my life, telling me, ‘This is your skill, you should nurture it.’

Today, looking at both my own experiences and practices in different education systems, I see this very clearly: Writing is not just a skill; it is a fundamental path that makes learning permanent, sharpens critical thinking, and increases a child's power of self-expression. Therefore, making writing visible is one of the most important steps to take in education.

So how can we strengthen writing in our own education system? Actually, the things that can be done are much more accessible than we think:

Treating writing as a process rather than an exam output makes a big difference. Encouraging students to draft, receive feedback, and reshape their text deepens their thinking skills. It is also important that writing is not confined to Turkish lessons; a science experiment report, an observation text in social studies, or even a verbal explanation of a solution in mathematics can strengthen a student's writing skills. In addition, regular and small exercises such as weekly short writing assignments, free journals, and mini story completion activities activate the brain's learning centres repeatedly, turning writing into a lasting habit.

Making students' writing visible is also very powerful in terms of motivation. Class newspapers, school magazines, small booklets or digital portfolios all nurture the student's feeling that ‘my work is reaching somewhere.’ In addition, supporting teachers in writing pedagogy is one of the most important steps in strengthening writing throughout the system. Because it is often not the curriculum that makes writing enjoyable, but the teacher's approach.

In conclusion, writing is one of the strongest roots of learning. As children write, they think; as they think, they learn; as they learn, they gain the courage to express themselves. The earlier, more natural, and more visible we make writing, the more we will nurture not only better students but also better-thinking individuals.