Tag Archives: reading

Who Needs Books?

I have a book addiction. I admit it. I am addicted to books. Of course, I read them, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I also collect them.

I think I need to stop.

Yesterday, I invited my colleague to bring her class to my room, where I could chat to them about books. I’d just returned from NCTE in Las Vegas where I shipped home five boxes of books I’d collected from the exhibition hall. Five boxes. I also had two tote bags full of the books I got at ALAN, special ones with author signatures.

Book Addict Heaven.

When my friend’s class arrived, I had them sit around my eight tables, which I’d piled high with 6 to 8 new books, mostly ARCs. First, I book talked a few of my favorite YA titles: Divergent, The Fault in Our Stars, Delirium. I asked these 9th graders what they liked to read. They told me, and I explored shelves and unopened boxes for books that would match interests. One kid asked for fantasy. Another asked for paranormal. Surprise endings? More copies of The Fault in Our Stars? Others like it?

I had each student choose one book from the stack on the table.

“Just one that you think might interest you.”

Then I set a timer and had them read for three minutes.

“Stop. What do you think? Do you like the narrator’s voice? Do you want to keep reading?”

Students could keep reading that book or choose another they thought looked more interesting. Again, they read for three minutes. We did four rounds of this. Each in-between-time talking more books, and what kids liked or didn’t like. The pace was quick.

I heard comments like:

“I read that one. It’s good.”

“Mrs. M. has that one on her shelf. I want a different one today.”

“If you liked that, you might like this.”

“I’ll finish this over the weekend, I hope I can come back Monday.”

I am pretty sure every student found a book to read–most found two. My friend created a sign out sheet that she’ll keep track of for me. I hope I get my books back, especially the signed ones, but it’s okay if I don’t. The books were free to me (I don’t even mind the shipping fee.) See, I love books; my bookshelves are bulging and cluttered, and the books my friend’s class took didn’t even make a dent. I really have become more of a collector than anything. Sure, my own students read books. We read and talk books all the time. But I only have so many students, and they can only read so many books.

Why do I have so many just sitting there? Wouldn’t they be of better use in the hands of other readers?

I had some interesting discussions with my students this week as we got started on a global issues project. We talked about literacy, and I shared these statistics:

  • More than eight million students in grades 4-12 read below grade level. Most are able to sound out words—the challenge isn’t to teach them to decode text but, rather, to help them comprehend what they read.
  • Only 31% of America’s 8th-grade students—and roughly the same percentage of 12th graders—meet the National Assessment of Educational Progress standard of reading “proficiency” for their grade level.
  • Among low-income 8th graders, just 15% read at a proficient level.
  • On average, AFrican-American and Hispanic 12th-grade students read at the same level as white 8th-grade students. (This one made my kids mad.)
  • The 25 fastest-growing professions have far greater than average literacy demands, while the fastest-declining professions have lower than average literacy demands.
  • Roughly 23% of high school graduates are not ready to succeed in an introductory-level college writing course.
  • About 40% of high school graduates lack the literacy skills employers seek.
  • Male and female students with low academic achievement are twice as likely to become parents by their senior year in high school compared to students with high academic achievement.
  • High school dropouts are 3.5 times more likely than high school graduates to be arrested in their lifetimes. (From Alliance for Excellent Education: http://www.all4ed.org/publications/FactSheets.html)
 Why am I holding on to books, if I know that reading can make a child’s life richer and more complete? Pretty selfish of me really.
I think it’s time I overcame my addiction, broke my book-collecting habit, and learned to share my books. No longer will I boast of having a great classroom library. I’d rather boast of having gifted books that helped create life-long readers.
Guess what my students are getting for Christmas? colleagues, too.
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Want to teach a kid to write?

 

Want to create successful writers?  Want to raise them from seedlings, make them strong and resilient and capable of writing oak trees of essays, not saplings of deadwood?  The key has nothing to do with writing.  If a teacher wants to help their students to become successful writers, they must make their students into successful readers.  If a student isn’t a reader, they’ll never be a writer – no way, no how.  The reading should be both academic and for pleasure: students need to bask in the glow of words for fun, and struggle with a snarling sentence when needed.  They should delight in diction and syntax, but never be quite satisfied with them as-is – every student should always ask, “why this way?” and “why not like this?”.  And no, they probably don’t need to know what “diction” and “syntax” mean: we don’t need to understand the nuclear reactions of the sun or the tidal effects of the moon to enjoy a sunny day at the beach, and they don’t need to know anadiplosis or synecdoche to appreciate a well-written paragraph.  If we don’t put words in their hands and in front of their eyes, we’ll never get the words into their heads … and if we can’t get the words into their heads, they’ll never put those words onto paper.  So … want to teach a kid to write?  

Teach her to read.

~Tess Mueggenborg, Professor

 

 

The Reluctant Reader

I know it’s not a contest or anything, but I bet that when I began teaching language arts I had read fewer books of any kind than any other language arts teacher in the history of public education.  I never liked reading as a kid, but I can vividly remember the first time I took my students down to our antique, two-sizes-too small library to check out books.  With the signatures on my diploma still wet, I was excited to begin working with my students on all of the great teaching strategies that I had learned in college to improve their reading skills.

Once we got to the library the students mechanically slipped into a chair at one of the tables in the room to await further instructions.  Eagerly I explained that they could pick any book they wanted to read; they didn’t have to read something just because I told them they had to.  I guess I was thinking I would get a standing ovation from the students because I had just liberated them from the reading tyrants that had enslaved their whole educational career, making them read boring and uninteresting books.  I was surprised when I received a series of moans and rolling of the eyes as students unenthusiastically got up to select a book.

As the students aimlessly roamed around the library I began to realize that they didn’t know what book they should pick.  What’s worse is I realized I did not know what to encourage them to read.  I, a non-reader myself, was a fraud. How could I recommend books when I hadn’t read any? Well, I’d read maybe 8 in junior high that I could tell them were great, or at least not half bad, but that was almost ten years ago.  Would these students actually find those books interesting? Read More 

If You Can Talk About a Book, You’re Not an Average Kid

I wish the library had a door that had one of those big misting foggers. You know, the ones at Six Flags in the summer where the water gently washes over all the sweat and grime of a hot day at the park? I’d like a mister to wash away all the negative feelings my students have about books–or at least dilute it, so I have a chance to baptize the kiddos into the wonder of the written word. So far they fight me like they are scared of water.

I don’t get it. My students are 14 years old. When have they ever been exposed to books enough to know that they hate them? Couldn’t be those evil slacking middle school teachers, could it? The ones some of my colleagues complain about: “What do they DO in middle school? These kids don’t know a thing!” Or, maybe the problem goes back to elementary: “If we don’t get this book read, we won’t get to play outside.” Hmmm.

Now, before teachers in lower grades than me get in a tizzy, let me be clear:  I KNOW you work your tired feet to the achy-breaky bone. I am sure at the end of the day, you are as weeping weary as I am. I am quite simply trying to figure this reading thing out. There has to be a reason why my freshmen hate books.

I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and here’s what I think:

1. My kids only think they hate books. They don’t really hate them because they haven’t read enough to know if they like to read or not.

2. My kids think that reading is not cool. The experiences that they’ve had with books in the past have not been positive enough to make them risk the “nerd” factor in high school.

3. My kids will never love books if I (and teachers like me) don’t show them that there’s something to love between the pages.

4. My kids are lacking reading role models. Few in their families are readers, so they have no idea of what a reader does, or what she says.

This is where my job gets real. Real life can change for my kids, if I can get them to read.

How do I present scenarios that show the advantages readers have over non-readers? How do I introduce them to stories that mirror life and non-fiction that expands their world? Because their world is often the 10 square blocks in which they go to school, shop, play, and live.

First, I have to talk about books. I have to talk about books ALL THE TIME. Seems like for the past two years I’ve started off the year quite well. I line my whiteboard shelves with new YA titles and hold one up for a book talk every day for the first two weeks. Without exception, every book I’ve introduced is in a kid’s hand by the end of the day. Why do I stop? Why do I let the testing trolls make me think that practicing other skills is more important that independent reading? I must stop their incessant mutterings.

Next, I have to hold students accountable for their reading. I’ve tried Let’s Read the Most Books Contests between classes. They don’t care. I’ve tried threatening “If you don’t read, you’ll fail.’ They don’t care. I have to somehow change my idea of accountability. It’s not like I ever have to record a grade because a kid read a book. Wouldn’t it be better if I just found out that a child enjoyed reading it?

A teacher friend suggested I conduct Book Chats like she does. While the majority of the class reads silently, she asks one student at a time to come sit in the “blue” chair where she asks specific questions about the book they are reading. She says students clamor for the opportunity to have one-on-one time with her. I see the value in this. In my classes of 30 plus students, the teacher-to-student ratio prohibits much individualized talk. I bet I can learn a great deal about my students if I sit and talk with them. Maybe saying we’re talking about books is how I’ll give myself permission to take the time. And maybe through these conversations, kids will come to know that reading is cool because if you can talk about a book with a teacher, you’re not just an average kid.

Finally, I need to read more. Seems funny because I read ALL THE TIME. Ask anyone who knows me. I just don’t read the kinds of books that my students will get lost in: those urban settings with real-life teen scenarios. I work with teens all day, I don’t really want to read about their [drug, sex, gang, crime] lives outside of school.

But I will.

I will if it will help me match books to students’ interests. I will if it will help me show kids that books can help them solve their problems. I will if I can get kids to stop saying they hate books.

Honestly, I wish I would have had a teacher who loved books as much as I do. Maybe I did, but she never invited me to have a chat about reading. She never showered me with book ideas or helped me see myself through the voice of a character. I would have camped out in that blue chair and counted the minutes until we could talk.

Who knows? Maybe my plans are too simplistic. Maybe the classroom library I’ve built will continue to gather dust, and my head will get mushy with too many teen stories, but guess what? There is no magical misting device that’s going to wash away students’ negative feelings towards books. There’s nothing that’s going to convince them that books contain knowledge and learning and friends. If my students are going to have a chance at all of learning to love books, it’s going to have to be me talking about titles and chatting about characters.

I am up for the challenge, and it begins now: I’ve got 55 new YA books in the trunk of my car. It’s time to get reading!

It’s Monday! What are you Reading?

 

See this? These are the books I brought home to read this summer. The crate is full of YA literature, mostly early releases I picked up in the exhibit hall at ALAN in May. I probably left there with 100 books. I think I’ve read one. I also have a tall stack of ORCA Soundings, short edgy books for reluctant and slow readers, in that crate somewhere. I’ve read two so far, and yep, they are edgy. I think my hostile readers will love them.

I know if I want to get my students to read, I have to be a reader. But this is not how I want to spend my summer. I want to read me books:  mystery, adventure, romance…you know, reader candy, books that I devour quite simply for the sweetness of the story.

I do not think there is enough time in my summer days to do both.

In the bag on the right are my book resources for curriculum writing. There’s a whole shelf in my classroom empty because I may need these trusty friends. I am spearheading re-writing 9th grade curriculum to more effectively meet student needs as EOC/STAAR tests threaten to destroy us. (Okay, that’s over-statement, but still…our scores this spring were dismal.)  A favorite? I’ve become a disciple of Jeff Anderson and praise his book 10 Things Every Writer Should Know every chance I get. I’ll be using some of his ideas to coach teachers into conducting writer’s workshop with more fidelity. An ELA goal across my district.

See that book in the bag on the left–Instructional Coaching? That’s the title of my new job–Instructional Coach, and I’m reading it because I need to!  I am excited for the opportunity, and change always makes me eager to learn. I will be teaching two sections of English I on my home campus, and then I will be coaching English I teachers on my campus and the other three high schools in the district in the afternoons. I love that I get to keep working with students, and I love that I get to work with teachers. It’s a perfect marriage, and I think I’ll love it.

So much to read, so little time to read it. So occasionally I’ll claim to be a part of #bookaday, and I just signed up today for #summerthrowdown, although I won’t be too much help to Team Teacher. However, I will be reading. Every day I will be reading.

And I will read those YA books because I can read all the pedagogy books in the world, but if I can’t get my students to read…all the strategies in my toolbox won’t help a thing.

“Mrs. R. You’re the Only Teacher Who Failed Me”

  It’s tradition that at the end of graduation the teachers line the tunnel as students exit the coliseum. We clap and hug and congratulate students as they literally walk out into the sunshine of their futures. I usually enjoy the spectacle of it all: the loud hurrahs and the sweaty hugs. But last spring, instead of the smiles and thanks that in years past I tucked away as a sweet ending to another school year, I got a reluctant side squeeze and a comment that sunk my heart to my toes:

“Mrs. R., you’re the only teacher who ever failed me.”

While he and I both knew what he meant (the silly guy didn’t turn in a paper all year), his words sent me spinning. I left graduation wondering: Did I fail this kid?

Maybe.  But I’ve learned a thing or two that could have made a difference.

I’d recently shifted my teaching from the traditional classroom set-up to a reading and writing workshop approach to learning. I read Nancie Atwell and Donald Graves and Linda Rief. I visited teachers who were models for how workshop works on a day to day basis. I thought I had workshop figured out; it would be easy to get students to respond to my requests for writing on a regular basis.

Not quite.

First of all, different writing coaches call “workshop” different things. A workshop can be a year-long class with small groups of students doing various reading and writing tasks; or a workshop can be a single class period where students “work” through a piece of text.(And in PBL a workshop is something entirely different.) I’d yet to learn what reading and writing workshop meant to me. I knew I needed to use mentor texts, get students writing through the writing process, allow for collaboration with peers, hold mini-lessons as needed, and confer with students about their writing; but second of all, it was plain hard. I learned and implemented most of it, but I was lousy at holding regular student conferences– the one thing that could have saved Jonathan, the one who thought I failed him, as a writer.

Conferring with students about their writing (or their lack thereof) is vital.

Jonathan would come to class empty-handed, and instead of taking the time to say: “How’s the writing going….”, I’d shake my head and tick off in my grade book that he had a missing assignment. I needed to get to the kids who’d actually brought drafts with them—they needed my time, not the slackers. Hindsight is a cruel teacher. Every student needs a conference not just the ones with papers in their hands. A one minute conversation might have made a difference to this boy, who loved playing the drums and moonlighting as a DJ, but had no use for putting thoughts on a page.

In the book Write Beside Them, Penny Kittle states in regard to conferring with students: “I work hard to listen, encourage, and direct my teaching toward something that will help this writer at this moment in time.” I needed to do that, too.

Writing conferences are essential to getting some students to even begin to put pen to paper. Some students need coaxing through the whole process. I doubt it matters if they are 7 or 17. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Doesn’t matter. Those initial one-on-one conferences must be purposeful and timely. Maybe if I’d taken the time to listen to this kid instead of demanding something from him, Jonathan’s behavior, work ethic, productivity, and final average in my class would have been different. I missed the opportunity, and he missed out on his credit. Yep, although it was his fault he failed my class, I think I failed him as a writing teacher.

But I’ve learned a thing or two that will make a difference.  Maybe future Jonathans will benefit.

How do you conduct writing conferences? Please share your tips for pulling in and keeping students in the writing process?