Unveiling the Zombie Chronicles: My Year with Apocalypse-Obsessed Student Authors
And How I Learned to Leverage Students' Interests to Engage Them in Writing
Last year, three of my students wrote book after book after book that included the word “apocalypse” in the title. There was, of course, “Zombie Apocalypse” that appeared near the beginning of the series. Then there was “Monster Apocalypse”, a few more charmingly titled “Zombie Apocalypse” installments, and at least one titled “End of the World Apocalypse” because…well, the kids probably wanted to make sure the reader knew EXACTLY what they were getting into when they opened that book up.
Cover after cover after cover featured characters of all kinds – but mostly they featured zombies. The writers drew very detailed zombies doing all sorts of things: running, jumping, scaling tall buildings, eating brains, being unalive. On every cover, the zombies were chasing three stick figures: the three authors collaborating and co-writing the series.
We had chat after chat after chat about the plans for these books, the characters to be included, the settings featured across the pages, and the weapons – yes, the weapons (my favorite: the zapper that hurled rubber duckies) – that appeared within the storyline. Each day, the students furiously wrote together and ferociously laughed together. Several times a week, I would be handed a book and beneath the book, staring back up at me, would be three joyous faces. Each of these books read similarly to each other but featured a new vehicle, or a new villain, or a new natural disaster…with zombies.
I have loads of memories like this: students writing storylines that include characters, events, and plot lines which made me question, “Where did THAT come from?” or “How did she end up HERE?” and, my most frequent question in the realm of first-grade story arcs: “Whaaaaaat?”
This all led me to the same question: Where are my students pulling ideas from?
Then the same answer: I should lean into that.
So, last night I played Roblox.
I signed up on Steam, an online gaming platform, and downloaded Roblox to my home computer. I needed a username to sign up, so after being alerted by Roblox to not use my real name I used “NotMyRealNameOKItIs.” After signing up, I saw row after row after row of games I could play…and immediately I chose “Field Trip Z” because OBVIOUSLY I wanted to play Roblox in a school setting because I am a real life teacher and also ZOMBIES (remember: I’m trying to connect with my students).
Then, the game started. I would have been pretty intimidated if I wasn’t a gal who grew up playing video games (relevant sidenote: Stardew Valley is saving my whole vibe right now). Cue the on-screen setting card: “It’s Your First Day of High School!”
Everything seemed normal for a few minutes. I’m playing and I’m thinking I am SO smart for going into an empty room no one is exploring only to be told by some rando in there that he “is hungry for a burger.” I started looking at what everyone else was doing (I had unknowingly chosen a collaborative game) and they were all running to the same classroom. So I follow along and go to a class where the teacher taught us LITERALLY nothing. Like actually…literally…nothing. My inner dialogue sounded like, “This is what I am up against” and my outer dialogue sounded like, “COME ON, LADY…WHERE THE ZOMBIES AT?” From here, let me sum up the rest of my time on Roblox with these words: rolling around on rocket chairs, sneaking out of my seat, and dying by zombie donut. All of this within the story of the game. A game about a zombie driven apocalypse.
As soon as I exited the game, the idea that overwhelmingly swelled up in me was this: I should have done that sooner.
Why? Because it gave me context around what my students value and it lent me a way in. A way to talk about their ideas. A way to plan their stories. A way to emphasize how important it is to courageously and considerately encode words (there was a chat function within the game, after all). A way to tell them how deeply I care about their passions and interests. It took me fifteen minutes to gather the information I needed through gameplay to have these realizations.
I thought, “I could have said things like:
You know…the Roblox game I played last night had this crazy storyline!
Wanna hear it? or
What is the setting of your story? What was it in the Roblox game
you played this morning before school? Could you use that to start shaping your plan? or
You know how there is that tiny chat feature in Roblox? It’s
like the characters of the story talking to each other. What
might your characters say to each other next?”
I wonder if the rubber duckie chucking zapper was an idea lifted from a game. Or if the fascination with a zombie apocalypse was because many first graders go home, connect with each other online, and play zombie games. Or if I want really good video games in my future – which I do – I should probably start instilling the value of storytelling from a gaming standpoint because it’s just as valuable as any other writing out there. And I do have the future of video game creators in my classroom.
This year, I leaned into graphic novels in a way that I haven’t before: through highlighting the form of writing during read aloud so the children in front of me could investigate organization, think about dialogue, notice the passage of time, and pick apart nuances within the panels. We read “DogMan” by Dav Pilkey and we read pieces of one of the “Babysitters: Little Sister” series books. By leaning into what kids love, we can glean so much about their writing and then teach with it.
Love this! Off to write an apocalypse story now...