How does it make you feel? Like a victor because you have read most of them? Or like a failure, because although most of them were probably assigned to you in high school, you have read less than a respectable amount of them?
I’m not sure who created this list or why, but the idea of a must read list is not unique. In fact, the website this list came from is actually a website of lists:
Best Loved Titles of All Time
Top 25 Fantasy Books
The 50 Best Books for Kids
I could continue, but I have to ask a question:
Who gets to decide what the BEST or the TOP or the MUST READ books are for any given category of interest?
Honestly, to me these lists are a bit ridiculous. Take the specific list I shared with you. Arguably, most of the books listed are adult novels that are major literary classics, but then you have seemingly random ones like Lovely Bones, Charlotte’s Web, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Really, I love Charlie and the Chocolate factory, but how can you honestly compare it to The Holy Bible, or A Brave New World? Then, what about other classics like Invisible Man or The Scarlet Letter? Those didn’t make the list, but The Little Prince did?
Being one that reads a lot, people are always asking me for lists of books that I would recommend for reading and generally I say, “I don’t know what kinds of books do you like to read?” How can I honestly recommend books to someone whom I don’t know what they like to read? I could easily suggest Divergent or Maze Runner, but if you hate dystopian you won’t like those. I could suggest anything by Sarah Dessen or John Green, but if you don’t like reading about the growing pains of young adults you will find their books a snooze. To me, the books I choose to read go well beyond merely a list. There has to be some connection or interest before I will agree to go on a journey with that author.
So please, for all of you book lists creators out there, I beg you, if you insist on making random lists, please at least give an explanation as to why your list includes what it does. You’ll really be doing the rest of us a favor.
This wasn’t my typical spring break. This year I spent most every waking hour either snuggling a tiny new grand baby or chasing her 17 month old sister. Grandmother heaven. Especially since my daughter and my only grandchildren live 1300 miles away from my home in Texas.
I spent my late evenings reading a handful of books from my towering TBR pile. Two have left scars on my heart. And as I look at my beautiful and innocent granddaughters, I pray: “Please protect these babies.”
The girls in these books were not so blessed. Both suffered abuse and heartache. I know it’s fiction. I get that it’s not real. But the haunting images so artfully crafted by these authors have shaped my thinking in ways that I’d never considered. My compassion swells for those trapped in darkness and fear.
And I hope I can serve as rescuer to anyone who needs a person to trust. I know many students come to school hurting, hungry, hopeless. If only we can offer solace and provide peace, comfort, safety. If only we can help them fight their way to light and love, and help them be the actors in their own inspiring stories instead of always being acted upon–
My students will want to read these books, so I will chat about them and share these passages. They are rich enough for text study and I’m sure will inspire some insightful conversation.
from My Book of Life by Angel by Martine Leavitt p122
Question: Explain how the author uses the word story in this poem?
from Girlchild by Tupelo Hassman p40
Skills Focus: tone, details, euphemism, diction
Babysat
The metal flash of a pair of wire strippers, the unexpected shine on a Phillips head, these things cause the same fear in me, the same gut-tightening, ass-puckering panic as the midnight gleam of a switchblade. Chain locks have the same effect. And lightbulbs. You can find all of these at your local hardware store.
Sometimes Carol goes with Tony to Guido’s Pizza and leaves me at Ace. Tony is her boyfriend and he says having a six-year-old around all the time cramps their style, but I don’t like him anyway, be cue when I’m with them he either hogs the Close Encounters game or he hogs Carola and I never get a chance at either one.
Ace smells like orate hand cleaner and WD-40, and I pretend not to hear the adult talk that passes across the counter between the men of the town about certain women of the town as they pay the Hardware Man for their wood screws and drill bits. I also pretend like I never have to go potty. Because I don’t need help, but the Hardware Man will want to help me anyway. And when he helps me, the lights go out.
Question: Explain how the author creates a tone of dread.
Paired passages question: Explain how the passages are similar.
My student teacher’s last day was yesterday, and, frankly, I’m lost without her. In eight short weeks together (less, when you count the 17 snow days), we have transformed each other as educators, brought our students to new heights, and had an exorbitant amount of fun. I’m hoping she’ll take away a myriad of ideas as she goes on to a middle school placement, because I knew I’ve learned much from teaching her.
During the first semester of this year, I worked to implement the reading and writing workshop model successfully in my classroom. Things were going fine, but I felt that something was missing. My students were producing excellent writing, and reading lots, but I wasn’t getting the magical results I wanted. It wasn’t until I began mentoring Katie that I was able to truly understand the holes in my efforts.
After a few days of observation, Katie became familiar with the workshop model. She knew that I used mentor texts as teachers, saw dialogue as an assessment measure, and read for craft and content in student writing. She saw that workshop was collaborative–within it, my students and I responded to each other’s work as fellow readers and writers, not as teachers and students. She took those foundational ideas and ran with them.
Newly-added graphic novel shelf
Katie taught students to write powerful, convincing letters of complaint to make claims they felt strongly about. In her quickwrite prompts, she showed them how to break down visual texts, emphasizing analysis of pop culture. Many of those videos she then used as mentor texts for public speaking skills, which helped her guide students through the writing of speeches and debates. She booktalked several graphic novels, a genre I had, before her arrival, been woefully uninformed about. She blossomed into a confident leader of the reading and writing workshop.
As I watched Katie teach so passionately, with such new and exciting resources, I began to see a gaping flaw in my own first try at workshop: I was relying too heavily on all of the texts, ideas, and strategies I knew and loved. I’d worked hard to make them comprehensive–I’d sought them out from all genres, time periods, places, and people–but I was amazed by how many resources she used that I’d never heard of. Katie Wood Ray says that our students should expect not only the best mentors of writing, but also teachers who will search for them. Although I was constantly searching for good books, mentor texts, or strategies, I was not effective enough–where were these pop culture visual mentor texts? My graphic novel shelf? Oral, not written, speeches as products of the writing process?
As I reflected, I came to realize that I was relying only on my own cultural capital to create the best workshop environment for my students. It was, by definition, impossible for me to extend my knowledge beyond what I knew, or knew how to obtain. I needed more brains–brains with their own unique cultural capital–to help me bring diverse resources into the classroom. Where could I find them?
Zach and Brendan debate alternatives to the tardy policy
As I watched our students professionally, conscientiously debate each other, I saw from their products that they knew not just how to write and speak persuasively, but why that was important. I watched thee audience, and saw students changing their minds about things they’d believed for years, slowly having their eyes opened not by the adults in the classroom, but by their peers. They revised their scorn toward legalizing marijuana as Moshe spoke about his battle with leukemia, and the helpfulness of the medical marijuana he was prescribed. They felt ashamed to write about why the drinking age should be lowered after Anderson spoke about seeing a neighbor killed in a drunk driving accident. They questioned long-standing religious tenets after listening to Stephanie and Leanna debate the legality of abortion. They were guiding each other to that which all teachers want their students to learn–critical thinking.
In struggling to be a mentor teacher for the first time, I realized that the power needed to be even less in my hands than it already is in the workshop–it needs to be in the learners’ hands. In terms of Katie’s learning, she thrived when I let her just go crazy with her own wonderful ideas, instead of my giving her lots of suggestions. In terms of my students, I saw that they benefited from being more regular leaders of the classroom. I needed to do more than just give their writing importance by having them share it each day, or use their pieces as mentor texts, or listen to their suggestions about books, my writing, or my teaching. I needed to let them take an active hand in designing the curriculum, so that they could teach and learn from one another. Hence, a Eureka moment–the leadership in my classroom must by shifted to the students.
Katie Bush, Super Teacher
This weekend, I’ll be sitting down to write my first lesson plans in two months. Thanks to what I learned while teaching Katie, I’ll be designing structured leadership roles for my students–far more involved than the occasional student booktalk, or the daily quote sharing, or the class-by-class student mentor text. I’ll arrange for every student to give a booktalk this quarter. I’ll create a routine for all students to lead the class in a quickwrite with their own prompts. I’ll ask them to suggest titles to their peers for literature circle texts.
I’ve learned much about the reading and writing workshop model by teaching it to someone else, and I hope I will continue to grow as I hand the reins over to my students. Let this wild and wonderful workshop journey continue as the fourth quarter begins!
I had the book Splintered by A.G. Howard on my shelves for a long while, but with so many other books towering my TBR pile, I kept skipping over it — until I got Unhinged. Now, I am a fan of both. Take a look and see why:
You will never think of the Rabbit Hole or Wonderland in the same way again.
While recently in the throws of February break rejuvenating away from the hubbub of the city in the quaint beach town of Montauk; Malcolm X and I were becoming intimate acquaintances. We had been for quite some time, actually. But it was here that I really started questioning him, his motives, and his overall sense of dedication to any cause he finds justified. As I was making direct connections to my own beliefs and passions, my pen went haywire. There was, by no means, enough blank space on the pages of this autobiography for my own thinking. Out came the post-its. The power button on the iPad came alive and my inquisition and deep thought went ablaze. While X and I could not be more different human beings the ideal of commonality among passion elated me.
Later that very same day, I was introduced to Dr. Jeff Duncan-Andrade’s invigorating message that immediately added even more fuel to my already-burning fire. From the moment I pressed play (thank you, Apple TV) I was captivated. Jeff is an outstanding educator who believes there are three kinds of hope: material, critical and audacious. He believes that our [urban] students are roses growing in concrete. I mean, the city has always been referred to as the concrete jungle! In order to really grasp the intensity and genuine love Jeff exudes with his message, you’ll have to watch for yourself.
There I was, hours away from the city and my students, yet never have I felt so connected. X’s passion exudes from his autobiography; Jeff’s passion seeps through his pores as his care is so loudly presented; and my passion was turning up the waves in the ocean right outside my window.
On my drive back to work that first Monday morning after break, I made a promise to myself. I promised to stay true to my passion and invite the new found passions I discovered to reside within me as well. My focus was by no means on the road, it was zoomed in on Jeff’s mantra: Tu eres mi otro yo! (You are the other me!) How could it not be? How could I not be heading back to room 382 thinking, “Students, you are my reflection…you are what I see when I look in the mirror. We are one.”?
As I headed into our building, my mind automatically trained itself on a female student that I have been working with for six months, but have yet to authentically connect with. Today was the day that was going to happen. The day had not begun, but I was sure of it. I was sure of it because I was going to channel all of the passion, intensity, and love I gathered over the break and pour it all over this student. I only hoped she wouldn’t mind!
As independent reading commenced I asked this student to join me with her new book, highlighter and pen. It was a piece well below her reading level (as is typical of her reading selections), but the premise captured her attention immediately: females making decisions based on their desperate need for belonging among other female peers. There’s no wonder.
X followed me to class that day, in many regards. As I put my chosen piece of literature on the table, a ‘huh’ surfaced from this female student. I opened to the chapter titled Icarus. I asked her if she knew what the title meant and the following is the dialogue that surfaced:
B: Nope.
Ms. B.: Neither did I. I decided I wasn’t going to go any further into this chapter until I understood what this name resembled.
B: Huh.
Ms. B.: So, I took to the internet and realized Icarus is the name of a Greek mythical figure whose father warned him of not flying too close to the sun with the wax wings in which he created for him. But, he did. And he fell straight out of the sky. Can you imagine?
B: Wow. Huh. That’s interesting.
Ms. B.: Isn’t it? Then, check this out…(I flipped to the last page of the chapter.) Read this last sentence. (B does.) Do you see it?
B: Whoa. It connects to the title. It explains what you just did. (Smile)
And it was at this moment, that the gathered passion, intensity and love I poured all over this student started to work its magic. Because here’s what happened next:
B: Ms. Bogdany, how do you know what to highlight though? I never know what to say — I mean annotate.
This may seem like a simple (and potentially expected response) but after working with this student since September, this was the very first time she was confident enough to be vocal with her inquiry. From there we opened her book (with much fervor) and highlighted a portion that she noted. I asked her what it meant, and she started to explain it…and, in her book, I wrote down her thoughts. I then asked her about her own ideas regarding this concept, and (with the longest response to date) she explained her insights about the decisions the main character is making. So, again…I scribed. We discussed. I annotated. She smiled.
Ms. B.: Do you see it now?
B: Hahah. I do. It…it makes you understand more. Thank you.
Before she left to resume this process solo, I pointed her in the direction of another female student who had just started reading:
I explained the premise of this piece. She raised an eyebrow. I mentioned that when the other student was done, she may want to engage with it as it’s the same concept that envelopes her piece, yet it’s an informational, non-fiction piece. This piece is more level appropriate for her. Same concept, different genre, enhanced level. We’ll see.
In the meantime, I noticed during the rest of our two hours together that day, B’s book kept finding it’s way back onto her desk; her highlighter was incredibly busy; and her pen was relaying her inner voice on those very pages that previously would have remained untouched. And instead of refocusing her on the day’s lesson and activity; I whispered internally, “Tu eres mi otro yo.”
This is cool. Author, Julie Berry, gives a book talk about her new book All the Truth That’s in Me.
While I like that Berry doesn’t come right out and reveal the setting of the book, and I like historical fiction myself, I have a difficult time getting my students to even give it a try — unless the book is set in the time of the holocaust.
I enjoyed reading this book though, and I believe it pairs well with early American literature. I’ll share this video of the author with my students, and maybe when I add my recommendation to her voice, I can get this intriguing and thought-provoking narrative into at least one student’s hands.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about structure lately. My students need to learn some. They’ve finally got some great ideas, but they are struggling with effectively sharing them in their writing.
I’ve become hyper aware.
I notice when an author introduces a topic. I notice when he builds a paragraph with reasoning and evidence. I notice when he concludes with a sentence that alludes back to the main idea. I notice balanced ideas in balanced sentences, and I get a thrill when the author captures meaning through structure and not just words and phrases.
Like this passage by Alan Lightman in his little novel Einstein’s Dreams (53-54):
There is a place where time stands still. Raindrops hang motionless in air. Pendulums of clocks float mid-swing. Dogs raise their muzzles in silent howls. Pedestrians are frozen on the dusty streets, their legs cocked as if held by strings. The aromas of dates, mangoes, coriander, cumin are suspended in space.
As a traveler approaches this place from any direction, he moves more and more slowly. His heartbeats grow farther apart, his breathing slackens, his temperature drops, his thoughts diminish, until he reaches dead center and stops. For this is the center of time. From this place, time travels outward in concentric circles–at rest at the center, slowly picking up speed at greater diameters.
Who would make pilgrimage to the center of time? Parents with children, and lovers.
And so, at the place where time stands still, one sees parents clutching their children, in a frozen embrace that will never let go. The beautiful young daughter with blue eyes and blond hair will never stop smiling the smile she smiles now, will never lose this soft pink glow on her cheeks, will never grow wrinkled or tired, will never get injured, will never unlearn what her parents have taught her, will never think thoughts that her parents don’t know, will never know evil, will never tell her parents that she does not love them, will never leave her room with the views of the ocean, will never stop touching her parents as she does now.
And at the place where time stands still, one sees lovers kissing in the shadows of buildings, in a frozen embrace that will never let go. The loved one will never take his arms from where they are now, will never give back the bracelet of memories, will never journey far from his lover, will never place himself in danger in self-sacrifice, will never fail to show his love, will never become jealous, will never fall in love with someone else, will never lose the passion of this instant in time.
When Mrs. Mueggenborg recommends a book I always look into it. I don’t always like the same books Tess does, but more than anyone I know I trust her judgment when it comes to books. Tess was excited about this one and openly shared her intrigue.
Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman, a thin little novel, with a whole lot of weight. Check out these clips and see for yourself:
A couple of days ago Amy and I were lamenting over the reality that in a short six weeks students from all over the state of Texas will sit down with their sharpened No. 2 pencils and begin taking our version of “accountability” called the STAAR test. For 9th and 10th graders they will have five hours to answer 30 multiple choice questions, write 2 short answer responses, and write 2 essays.
Six Weeks – a mere 30 hours (at most) to make sure the students sitting before us are equipped with the skills they need to pass.
Let’s face it, we are all in crunch time!
Choices are going to have to be made and lessons are going to have to be cut, or scaled down, in order to make sure that the last remaining hours are maximized. If you aren’t feeling it already, you should feel stressed!
But before you start running around in full-blown panic, might I offer you a solution:
Don’t sacrifice anything!
The conversation with Amy got me thinking about the reading test vs the writing test. What if, instead of stressing out about the reading portion of the test, we double the time we spend working on the writing portion? A few days ago, I studied the released questions from last year’s 9th grade End of Course Reading Exam (see below). What is one striking feature about the questions I studied?
Why does the author use sentence fragments to begin the article?
The author includes quotations from Gupta primarily to —
In which line does the author use figurative language to explain why people participate in the simulation?
What is the primary purpose of paragraph 1?
Why does the author include details about the “scissors” style of high jumping?
The author includes the information in paragraph 4 to —
The author organizes the selection by —
The author ends the selection with information about Fosbury’s later life in order to show —
The poet uses these lines to emphasize the importance of —
What does the poet mean by the lines “suddenly everything is a metaphor for how/short a time we are granted on earth”?
What is the most likely reason the poet ends the first stanza after line 13?
What is the primary purpose of paragraphs 1 and 11?
In paragraph 6, what is the effect of the author’s use of figurative language?
By having the narrator tell the story to Marge, the author allows the reader to function as —
The author uses ellipses primarily to —
Ok, so I gave it away… Look at all these questions that have students considering the motives of the author, or the writer, of the passage. Just a little under half of the questions ask our students to put themselves in the shoes of the writer and consider the author’s craft of the piece.
Wait a minute, isn’t that what we are trying to do when we ask students to write themselves? Don’t we want them to consider craft, purpose, style, voice, etc. as they put pencil to paper and write their own pieces?
So my challenge is this: If you are faced with too much curriculum to cover and not enough time, consider stepping back and focusing on developing your students as writers.
If we empower our students to critically think about composing their pieces as a genuine writers, not just test takers, where they confidently make stylistic choices in their own writing, they will be able to approach a reading passage with a critical writer’s eye, and in turn be able to examine another writer’s stylistic choices.
Amy and I think we are on to something. She is making these choices during her own crunch time with first-time 9th grade test takers and second-time 10th graders (and a handful of re-testers who haven’t managed to score high enough–yet).
For those of you who read my post on Thursday where I bemoaned the weak essays my students produced on their most recent mock exam, you know what IT is. My students’ lack of application–the skills I’ve taught merged with their own deep thinking.
All in all, scores, compared to those in the fall, showed improvement, especially in multiple choice. I must celebrate that.
I know that year after year it’s the students who are readers who score well on the exam. The best readers are also the best writers. That’s not surprising.
What is surprising is the arrogance of many of my students, or maybe it’s not as much arrogance as naïveté. They think they know more than they do. They think their skills are sharper than they are.
I know this because they told me.
Friday morning, I began class with the opportunity for students to reflect on their performance on the mock exam. I put a large sheet of paper on each table and asked students to have a silent conversation with their table mates.
“Write what you feel you did well? And then respond to the writing of your peers.” I gave them about two minutes and then moved the papers among the tables and had students read and think and respond again.
Then I had them turn the papers over and write again. This time: “Write what you think you need to improve on. Remember to think about all the different parts of the exam.”
This is where I learned the most about my students. They wrote things like:
I need to manage my time better.
I need help with the synthesis question (or rhetorical analysis or persuasive).
I need help understanding the multiple choice questions.
I need help organizing my essays.
And on and on and on. They all know they need help with something. This is good.
But when I asked: “Did any of you write ‘I need to become a better reader?'”
Silence. In both class periods. Not one of my 49 AP students thought to write “I need to be a better critical reader.”
Therein lies the problem.
Students misread the prompts, and on the synthesis, the sources, as often as they lacked organization in their essays. A lot.
The AP Language and Composition exam is as much a reading test as it is a writing one. I imagine the other AP exams are as much about reading as their contents, too. Students must be critical readers to do well.
So, how does this matter when it comes to my instruction?
Simple. If I want my students to keep improving, I need to not only continue to get them to read MORE, I must keep teaching them how to read BETTER.
We’ll study short passages, looking for connotative meanings and nuances. We’ll discuss the function of this and the organization of that. We’ll slow down and discuss more.
I heard Kylene Beers say once, “The smartest person in the room is The Room.” I know I need to allow more time for class discussions where students can learn from one another.
I know I need to more effectively model how to think as we read. I learned from Cris Tovani to teach kids to keep the little man in their heads focused on the reading at hand. Too often students do not know that they have to train the little man before he will stay focused.
Tomorrow, we get out the training net.
Tomorrow, I change the balance up a bit. I revise my instruction yet again.
The constant reflection, the feedback, the changes — all parts that make readers/writers workshop in an AP class, or any other, work.
swing. Dogs raise their muzzles in silent howls. Pedestrians are frozen on the dusty streets, their legs cocked as if held by strings. The aromas of dates, mangoes, coriander, cumin are suspended in space.
Three Teachers Talk 