Category Archives: Reflective Practice

Martha Stewart, Twitter, and Purpose

why

WHY? The question shouts at me: “WHY DO YOU DO WHAT YOU DO?”

It’s one of those questions with plenty of expected answers.

It’s an easy question to answer for some.

It’s a question that punched me in the gut this summer.

I always believed that I became a teacher because of the influence of Miss Findlater, my fourth-grade teacher. 

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Last year, though, something changed. I lost focus. I walked into my classroom focused on two priorities: decorating and using tech-stuff.

I walked into my classroom focused on tsub-buzz-26461-1473070873-1he images of what I should be and do gathered during a summer of social media immersion.

I wanted to be the Martha Stewart of classroom decorating!

I scoured HomeGoods (had gift cards!) and Michaels for beach-themed decor for the tables and bookshelves.

On each table, I placed baskets full of pens, pencils, highlighters, and post-its; and of course, centered on each table, a mason jar full of sunflowers. My 7th and 8th-grade kids were going to feel so comfortable in this cozy, warm and sunny environment.

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And oh, the tech discoveries we would share!

I’d spent hours on Twitter! I’d #ditchedthetextbook and #googleinfused my classroom. I’d learned so many new tools from the best PLN anyone can find — I love my Twitter family!

Sounds like I set the table for success, literally and figuratively, doesn’t it? 

I wish. Last year was one of the most difficult of my 36-year teaching career. As they do most years, variables such as administration changes and curriculum concerns played a role in the year’s progression. I spent time trying to integrate my new-found tools and ideas with a curriculum that was pretty well set by the administration. This led to questions and concerns from my supervisors about what I was doing, which put me on the defensive by November. That’s when I lost focus. I forgot that I and my “super-cool” ideas are not the reason I am in a classroom. Ever.

Daily, I cried my way home because I knew I didn’t “fit” at the school anymore, though I desperately wanted to please everyone there. I cried because the more I tried to explain myself, the more worried I became about failing. I cried because the feelings of failure as “a teacher” defined me as a failure. And in all of this, my kids became the background, not the foreground of my daily life.

As I focused more and more on proving that I knew what I was doing, I lost sight of the kids in front of me. 

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By the end of the year, I was a broken crayon, to quote one of my favorite virtual mentors, @TaraMartinEDU

And that brings me back to my first sentence: Why?

Why do I do what I do?

I need to reflect on and return to the REAL reasons for being a teacher.

I teach because I’ve been called to share with kids.

I share academic content. I share guidance and skills.

I share life experiences.

 

 

I share kindness.

I share grace.

I share encouragement.

I share all that I am (not who I think I need to be).

I share all that I’ve been blessed with (not what I’ve tried to create to impress).

I am a broken crayon who has a purpose. I look forward to walking into my next classroom with my focus on my kids. Some of whom will also be broken crayons.

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Thinking Possibilities.

CUE18

Thinking Possibilities.

I have to think possibilities. That’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done.

This past October, at our regional CUE Techtober ’17, I won the raffle for free registration to the CUE conference in Palm Springs. Needless to say, I jumped up and down and shared my blessing with everyone on all of my social media sites. I was thinking possibilities.

Thursday, 4:30 a.m., I was already awake; I wanted to be on the road by 5 a.m. for the 3 hour drive to the Palm Springs Convention Center. I love driving, so I didn’t find the distance daunting; as long as the French Roast in my tumbler stays hot and my little Kia Soul keeps moving and the iPod is charged, I’m good. As I drove through the darkness, I wondered if I’d find anyone I know, wondered which sessions I should attend, and wondered if I’d make any new connections — thinking possibilities. The rain pounded as I entered San Bernardino, and as the sun rose directly in front of me, I glimpsed an incredibly vivid rainbow in my side mirror — couldn’t help but think possibilities.

I arrived by 8 a.m., just as I’d hoped, picked up my badge, grabbed a venue map, and headed toward the first session (yes, I did miss the keynote, regrettably, but hey, I did well to get up at 4:30 — to make the keynote, well, I couldn’t commit to getting up that early). Thursday’s sessions began with “Project-Based-Learning” and ended with “Future Ready Research.” Full day. Exhausted … but thinking possibilities.

Each session I attended throughout the conference turned out to be energizing. Honestly, I didn’t hit a “bad one” in the bunch. I consume conference offerings like I’m at an all-you-can-eat buffet; I took no breaks! And I checked out all of the resources that presenters so willingly shared on the CUE site! Today, I used Actively Learn and Formative as I planned the week’s 7th and 8th grade English classes, respectively. I’m eager to try out Flipgrid as I look for ways to increase the “volume” of my students’ voices. I hope to integrate some new research ideas and design thinking tools, as I collaborate with my friend and 7th grade English teacher, Janelle (I couldn’t help but text her a couple of discoveries from my sessions as I sat in my hotel room, Thursday night). I’m thinking possibilities.

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Highlights also included checking out the exhibitors and meeting one of the hip-hop artists from Flocabulary. Yes, I love hip-hop — I probably enjoy Flocabulary videos as much as or even more than my middles. I sing and dance as the class watches, so when I met Chris Payne (he’s the driver in the animated car in the video on text structures, by the way), I had to get a photo with him to show my students on Monday! Maybe if the teaching-thing doesn’t work out, my husband will agree to move to New York so that I can hip-hop with Flocabulary’s team.

Which leads to why I’m thinking possibilities.

I’m moving out of my current teaching position at the end of this year for a variety of reasons. I do so with much gratefulness for my colleagues, the administrators who hired me, and the kids with whom I shared my days.

It may seem strange, then, that without a teaching position for the next year yet, I spent 3 days at the CUE Conference. When a month ago, I realized that I would not have a teaching position lined up, I wondered if I should still attend the conference. I’m so glad that I didn’t let my unknown future deter me from participating in this energizing gathering of innovators, collaborators, and genuine lovers of all things kids.

I must say thank you to my Twitter PLN, CUE, and to CUE Director, Jon Corippo, for their personal encouragement this past summer when I dove into Twitter and wanted to try everything I heard about, right away. They think possibilities, and because of them, I’m still

Thinking Possibilities!

 

 

 

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Style or Skill?

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We’ve all seen this saying and know it’s true. I’ve been wondering today how it might be adapted to teachers:

Teachers teach, just not on the same day, or in the same way. 

Teaching is part technique, part artistry, and part personality. Just as students bring their various selves into the classroom and learn differently, so do teachers bring their various selves into a school and teach differently. And that’s okay. 

The problem is how do administrators assess “good teaching” when styles and skills can look so different depending on the individual teacher’s technique, artistry, and personality? 

If, for example, student engagement is measured by raised hands, that’s fine in the classroom full of compliant students taught by a teacher who likes a quiet, controlled environment. What if, however, the class is taught by a teacher who loves the spontaneous responses of kids eager to share? As the kids raise their hands, they also call out their responses, and the teacher caught up in their enthusiasm quips “You all are talking while raising your hands — I love it!” And she truly does love it because even though they’re raising their hands, their eager responses evidence engagement. 

Or what if in that same class, a number of kids don’t raise their hands, nor do they speak. Is this to be considered a lack of engagement? Possibly. Possibly not. What about Ethan who just doesn’t talk in class? He’s an introvert. He’s engaged and his writing will later demonstrate his thoughtful attention during the class. But his hand isn’t raised. 

How can administrators fairly evaluate “good teaching” based on student engagement and teacher response, given the number of variables involved in a dynamic classroom environment? I don’t have an answer.

I do know that I realized today that I love what I do because of my style, because of my artistry when creating learning experiences, and especially because of my unique and personal interaction with these kids I love.

And so I teach, just not in the same way every day.

 

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Relationships First…or “I Still Want to Be Miss Findlater!”

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“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something I can do.” (Hale, 1870) That is the heart of a teacher! That was the heart of Carol Findlater, my fourth grade teacher and inspiration. Miss Findlater loved and lived passionately and instilled in each student confidence of success. I write about Miss Findlater here, because she connected students to herself in a way that transcended the sharing of content knowledge and physical space for nine months, and she instilled a passion for life, not just learning, that continues to inspire my own learning and teaching years later.

Miss Findlater shared her life with her students; I will never forget the day she burst into the room (she typically burst) and cried out to her beloved 8 year-olds, “You have to hear this!” She proceeded to share Emma Lazarus’ poem, “The New Colossus,” and to this day, I love and quote the words: 

Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door! (Lazarus, 1883). 

I believe that Miss Findlater saw her students as “yearning to breathe free” and she committed herself to breathe life into each of us. In fact, I do not recall wanting to become a teacher because I loved children or even had a desire to help students. As I reflected on Miss Findlater’s influence recently, I realized that I wanted to become a teacher because I wanted to be fully alive just as Miss Findlater was passionately alive. She presented “an authentic self to students” (Phelps, 2006). In 1966, most of the adult women I knew were homemakers. Miss Findlater was an adult woman who read and wrote poetry, and sang songs to us like “MacArthurPark” even though we could not comprehend the meanings, and roared with laughter when we played, and cried true tears when we hurt.

Thinking about Miss Findlater, I decided to visit the alumni page of my old neighborhood school, and yes, many students had written of their memories of Miss Findlater. For instance, a boy from my same fourth grade class recalled:

A quickie about Miss Findlater. She was my 4th grade teacher at Peter Burnett. She was one of my favorite teachers I’ve ever had. She was so nice. When I was the window monitor and put my hand through the window and cut four of my fingers nearly completely off she was so concerned she came to the hospital with me. I remember her very fondly (Jones, 1998).

Another former student wrote:

I was an adult the last time I saw Miss Findlater (can’t remember the year, late 70s maybe).  I visited her at Peter Burnett School. Hadn’t seen her in years. She came out from the teacher’s lounge and recognized me immediately (Wright, 1998).

Those students who were fortunate enough to have Miss Findlater never had to worry that they would “go through school and have no one know what you looked like” (Corbett, D., Wilson, B., & Williams, B, 2005). When Miss Findlater passed away, I attended her funeral, along with the entire neighborhood. Many of us who had traveled a fair distance and arrived only a half hour before the service, had to stand outside as the church was full. We stood, with dignity, and we knew that Miss Findlater had touched each of us with respect, and love, and life.

As I think about Carol Findlater, I admit that I am closely looking at where and whom I teach. I long to be and continue to admire those teachers who are the Carol Findlaters of their schools. All schools, regardless of location, public or private, have students who need life breathed into them – who feel like “huddled masses” in the midst of an environment where everyone else seems to be in control. Those are the students I want to teach. I want to teach those “huddled masses” – those who feel disenfranchised, not quite fitting; instilling a passion for learning because all students deserve the tools to succeed. Of course, desire is the first step.

The next step is taking the risks involved to be that type of teacher. Phelps (2006) notes that Barth wrote “one thought-provoking question for teachers to consider regularly is: “How much are you prepared to risk of what is familiar, comfortable, safe, and perhaps working well…in the name of better education for others?” (Phelps, 2006) That question hits like a slap in the face! Do I risk anything for my students? Do I truly advocate for students? (Phelps, 2006). More recently, Aaron Hogan encourages teachers to risk vulnerability (Hogan, 2017). Vulnerability means I share myself even if I fear “it’s not cool” enough for my kids because when I share myself, they feel safe to share themselves. I open up and say, “Hey, you know, I like this. What do you like?” And then I listen, with vulnerability, knowing that what they share with me might be awkward or disagreeable or actually fun — it’s taking the risk to know each one as he or she is, without expectation of what each one should be.

I have an interesting, evolving role; I hope as I continue in whatever capacity I am in and wherever I am, to strive to breathe life-giving respect and passion into my students daily. “I am only one, but I am someone; I cannot do everything, but I can do something” and I will (Hale, 1994).

References

Corbett, D., Wilson, B., & Williams, B, D., Wilson, B., & Williams, B. (2005). No choice but successEducational Leadership, 62 (6), 8–12.

Hogan, A. (2017).  Shattering the Perfect Teacher Myth: 6 Truths That Will Help you THRIVE as an Educator. Dave Burgess Consulting, Incorporated.

Phelps, P. H. (2006). The three Rs of professionalismKappa Delta Pi Record, 42 (2), 69–71. Used by permission of Kappa Delta Pi, International Honor Society in Education.

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Reflecting on 35 Years of Teaching Writing

Teaching and using writing to explore, to expand, and to explain is what we do; how to use writing is what we teach. With this in mind, “writing is best understood as a complex intellectual activity that requires students to stretch their minds, sharpen their analytical capabilities, and make valid and accurate distinctions” (National Commission on Writing in America’s Schools and Colleges, 2003, p.13). Thus, I teach with writing.

As both a student and a teacher, I have lived through numerous trends and theories of writing instruction. As a high school student in the early seventies, I methodically wrote the assigned five-paragraph essays about literature; then in college, used the same basic format to approach the longer papers assigned. When I entered the credential program at UCSB in the early eighties, I entered the world of Peter Elbow as I participated in Sheridan Blau’s South Coast Writing Project. Suddenly, writing shifted from form to freedom. Commenting on that time period’s emphasis on social values of individualism, personal expression, equality, and freedom, D. Bowden observes that “outlets for self-expression in writing were suddenly highly valued” and “that both the process movement (which paid attention to how writing was produced) and voice (which privileged the expression of emotions, passions, ideals, and a writer’s inner character) not only took hold but also became quickly entrenched (Clark et al., 2003, p. 287). When I began teaching, I faced a tug-of-war between teaching the form by which I had learned to write for school and avoiding what Macrorie termed Engfish, “standard academic writing in which students attempt to replicate the style and form of their professors” (Clark et al., 2003, p. 289). My early years as a teacher produced many standard English, five-paragraph essays because frankly, I could more objectively explain grades to students, parents, and colleagues. In the early nineties, I met Rae Jean Williams who invited me to work with the UCLA Writing Project. Through that involvement with colleagues, sharing experiences and theories, I discovered freedom in using writing to teach, as opposed to trying to teach writing.

One of the most important lessons I learned from Rae Jean is that students need a reason for writing, that writing is a response to some stimulus, a means to an end rather than the end. Some may disagree, and in fact, in my early years of implementing writing workshop in my classroom, I believed that the objective was simply to get kids writing. My writing workshop followed the usual protocol of encouraging students to write frequently and allowing for students to work on several pieces at a time, keeping every piece of writing, from notes to outlines to rough drafts to final copies, in their English folders. As students completed rough drafts, they spent time with me during a conference session discussing possible revisions. These rough drafts were not graded, in order to motivate revision, rather than create frustration. Students were required to submit revised pieces as part of their final exam grade — these pieces were graded on revision work shown. Two days a week in class were Writing Workshop days during which students worked on their own writing, shared writing with peer groups, and individually conferred with me about writing problems. I encouraged individuals to write about topics that interested them personally; I rarely assigned one topic to all students. I challenged students to experiment with various modes of writing such as autobiographical, poetry, journaling, short story, persuasive, and observational. The basic workshop approach provided a safe environment for writing, which does motivate as “they had ownership over the learning activities,” but did not provide a reason to write (Shellard & Protheroe, 2004, p. 13).

A better use of writing workshop provides a safe environment to approach the writing tasks presented in students’ core classes. Research indicates that one of the problems with the romantic rhetoric approach of my initial workshop is that it was “based on the idea that writing has only one purpose, self-exploration. However, in reality, it has multiple purposes” (Williams, 2003, p. 66). Because reading and writing are so integrated, students need to understand the use of specific genres of writing for specific purposes, not only as readers of text but as responders to text. When teaching the use of writing, teachers need to understand that “writers and readers use similar kinds of knowledge…in the act of making their meanings: knowledge about language, knowledge about content, knowledge about genre conventions” and help students make those connections (Langer & Flihan, 2000). Correct grammar can signal skillful writing – correct structure does indicate a sense of organization and coherence. “Correct” writing, however, is often boring and according to a recent study:

Teaching students the grammar raises tacit knowledge to a conscious level in ways that interfere with the efficient language processing necessary in writing. In other words, students…probably were thinking more about the grammar rules than they were about writing, with deleterious effects. (Williams, 2003, p. 50)

Here, once again, is the tug-of-war between personal and academic discourses. However, when I ask students about audience, purpose, and the key question of “so what?” I help students learn how to use those formal elements of style to elicit the answer they desire.

In the workshop setting, students can look at form and structure of an essay, for instance, as the “basic outfit” that needs personal identity. In groups, or individually, students can consider how the writing can be improved by adding elements of style specific to their purpose, personal choices made by each writer including the choice of genre that best addresses their needs. Depending on students’ background knowledge, students can be asked to add their own style by adding rhetorical devices, varying sentence structure, changing passive voice to active; this is best achieved by break ing this into steps and modeling, rather than direct instruction/drill of grammar. We may discuss, for instance, rhetorical devices and then students add one device to a piece of writing on which they are currently working. When we look at sentence types, I can then lead students to adding a periodic or cumulative sentence, for example. In this way, students develop understanding of grammar and rhetorical structure in the same way they look at what their favorite performers are wearing, choosing to add the elements they like best to their own personal wardrobe. Referring back to where I began, with writing, I teach students to use writing to achieve their purposes, to generate the answers they desire to the questions they and/or their teachers ask, to write meaningfully.

Teaching with writing applies to all content areas because it is teaching students how to use writing as “Powerful discourse…discourse that makes a difference; has a rhetorical purpose; and informs, persuades, or moves an audience from their present state of mind to a new one” (Clark et al., 2003, p. 296).

References:

Clark, I., Bamberg, B,, Bowden, D,, Edlund, J., Gerrard, L., Klein, S., Lippman, J., & Williams, J. (2003). Concepts in composition: Theory and practice in the teaching of writing. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Langer, J., & Flihan, S. (2000). Writing and reading relationships: Constructive tasks. Retrieved April 28, 2008, from http://cela.albany.edu/publication/article/writeread.htm

National Commission on Writing in America’s Schools and Colleges. (2003). The neglected R: The need for a writing revolution. Retrieved April 28, 2008, from http://www.writingcommission.org/prod_downloads/writingcom/neglectedr.pdf

Shellard, E., & Protheroe, N. (2004). Writing across the curriculum to increase student learning in middle and high school. Arlington, VA: Educational Research Service.

Williams, J., (2003). Preparing to teach writing: Research, theory, and practice. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates

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Modeling Leading to Transfer

2543351480044258467fFzOdb_fs   As an academic success counselor, teachers will often approach me about particular students. Sighing heavily, a teacher laments that the student cannot read or the student does not read. Students who are not engaged or appear unable to meet the academic expectations of the course do discourage teachers who are experts in their subject areas and who are eager to share that expertise with their students. J. Guthrie (2001) observed that “student engagement affected teacher involvement as much as teacher involvement influenced student engagement” (Guthrie, 2001). If this is true, then we need to look closely at the inter-relatedness of teacher involvement and student engagement in order to reduce the frustrations of teachers and students related to reading. As a result of reading and researching, I am convinced that we cannot continue to assume that students know how to read by the time they reach our middle and high school classrooms if we desire their engagement and involvement in our classes (Alvermann, Phelps, and Ridgeway, 2007, p. 4). We must actively, explicitly teach our students pre-, during-, and post-reading strategies that will help them read to learn, to make connections, and to more deeply engage with us and our content.

April Nauman, Ph. D. (2007) observes that “high school students must read, comprehend, and remember information in a variety of high-level content area textbooks, which are packed with new concepts and vocabulary…these expectations occur at a time when students’ motivation to read tends to decline” (p. 31). As I have worked with students struggling to read sections in their history text, I have observed that teaching them to use specific strategies aids not only their comprehension, but also increases their motivation to read. The history text presents two columns of text, at least one chart, and an inset box per page. My students tend to gloss over the pages, skimming for what might be on the quiz that their teachers will inevitably give the day after the pages are to be read for homework. A difficulty that I face as a Learning Specialist is that I cannot choose the assignments and the means of assessments that my students encounter in their classes; I can, however, use those assessments as literacy teaching tools. For example, when a student points out difficulties he faced in responding to questions based on history text reading, I can use that experience to show the student how to actively read the text to learn. Vacca (2002) points out that “continued literacy development is of critical importance because it helps to shape the core strategies by which adolescents learn to negotiate meaning and think critically about the texts in their lives, whether in the context of school or the world outside of school” (p. 186). Students need to see this type of thinking modeled, as it is not an intuitive skill that they activate simply because the learning task demands it.

I have learned that this modeling and guided practice means that I am actively thinking out loud as I read with my students, and that I offer my students a variety of strategies. For example, I can show my students how to use strategies such as KWL charts or SQ3R to set a purpose for reading. I particularly like the SQ3R strategy for use with my students’ history textbook because the students learn to look over the chapter, change section headings into questions, and can at the same time, set up Cornell Notes (two-column notes) or a 5-W Chart (who, what, when, where, why) to use as they read to answer the questions. The most important step in this strategy for my students is the question phase because they tend to not even notice titles and subheadings. Yet, each title, when rephrased as a question, becomes the guide for determining the main ideas in that section of the reading. For some of my students, reading has always been a passive activity, either due to family background (lack of education, lack of involvement, lack of emphasis relative to other activities) or perhaps due to educational experiences (poor instruction, behavioral issues that masked reading difficulties left unaddressed, moving from one school to another preventing engagement promoting reading). For these students, learning how to take notes, summarize, and draw inferences are new skills requiring much guided practice which I can give them during our meetings.

Although, I realize my students may not see their history reading as fun, I have learned that “teachers can affect student motivation to read through explicit reading strategy and reading comprehension strategy instruction and practice” and do so when they “show how, practice, tell why, and tell when” (Mccrudden, Perkins & Putney, 2005). My students need to learn for instance, that “note taking is not simply a way to record facts; it also leads to deeper student engagement and reflection” (Fisher, Frey, & Williams, 2002, p. 72). Metacognition, or thinking about thinking, is the goal of during-reading strategies and therefore, teachers must make a conscious effort to “teach comprehension strategies that empower students to internalize the strategies and to develop a conceptual framework for understanding content area topics” (NASSP, 2008). With this goal in mind, and understanding the difficulties that my students have reading their history textbook, I use active reading strategies that guide their reading. For example, the RAP strategy teaches students to read one paragraph, ask what it says, and put it into their own words before reading the next paragraph. The emphasis in this approach is helping the student recognize that reading the history text book involves new skills which he is in the process of learning and that he actually understands more of the text than he believed he could. My students benefit from looking at the reading assignment in chunks, rather than pages, with each section read to answer a question seen as a chunk of text to be understood and summarized. The notes taken affirm to my students that they have understood what they read; so often they have lamented reading the “whole chapter” but not remembering or understanding anything they had read.

I integrate the use of the RAP strategy with another strategy, Questioning the Author, moving students beyond facts to thinking about why those facts are important. My students have written many reports during their years in school, all of which asked for facts. Now, in high school, it is not enough to know the facts and just the facts. Students have to analyze the facts, relate those facts to prior knowledge, consider how those facts might relate to the future, and develop an understanding of the significance of those facts to their own lives. According to its creators, “Questioning the Author begins by taking stock of what we want students to learn from a text and noticing what might interfere with that understanding,” then “prompts student response to text through such queries as, ‘What is the author trying to say?’, or ‘What did the author say to make you think that?'” (Beck, & McKeown, 2002). To implement these strategies together, as they seem a natural pairing, I first preview the text, noting sections that may pose interruptions in comprehension and preparing questions that will help students over the bumps. As we read the text together, I ask the students questions to engage them in interacting with the text and to monitor comprehension. I may begin with an active comprehension question such as ‘What would you like to know about this chapter’ after reading the title and the first paragraph; then after reading further, I may pose a questioning the author query such as ‘What distinction is the author making here’ at a point where the students may not infer what is needed for full comprehension. This active reading encourages students to “respond to queries by contributing ideas that other students and the teacher may build on, refine, or challenge” (Beck, & McKeown, 2002). In addition, students not only think about the text as I am asking questions such as ‘What do you think the author meant by saying that…,’ but they also observe when I choose to ask the question. I want my students to understand the text, but I also want to model how to think while reading. Ideally, students learn to ask questions themselves while reading. This approach leads my students to an understanding of how to apply the strategies on their own; “modeling, coaching, and fading” provides my at-risk readers “with the scaffolding necessary to incorporate the procedural and conditional knowledge they were learning into their own repertoire of reading strategies” (Dole, Brown, & Trathen, 1996, p. 73). Research emphasizes that the key to effectiveness is to model and guide students through the process; showing students just once and then expecting them to apply any strategy is idealistic, if not simply unfair. Fisher (2001) points to “significant improvement in student quiz scores after graphic organizers had been implemented with teacher guidance” (p. 116). This guidance is on-going and repeated; Marzano, Pickering, and Pollock (2001) caution, “simply directing students what to do, however, is not the same as showing them how to do it” (p. 32). Dole, Brown, and Trathen (1996) further remind us that “with its emphasis on making abstract cognitive thought processes explicit, strategy instruction can be difficult for students to understand, especially if the instruction is not sequenced clearly and systematically” (p. 67). This instruction, meaning modeling and thinking-aloud to show students the process is worth the effort and the time; “long-term instruction of sophisticated comprehension strategies clearly improves student understanding and memory of texts that are read” (Pressley, 2002, p. 291).

Finally, as students learn to preview the text, read for a purpose, asking questions as they read, they are moving toward deeper comprehension that will be demonstrated through the use of post-reading strategies. Our history teachers use an acronym “GRAPES” (geography, religion, achievements, politics, economy, and society) to indicate what students should know about each people-group studied, and this could easily be applied with the Compare and Contrast matrix. The basic idea is that “readers compare and contrast the target concepts listed across the top of the matrix according to attributes, properties, or characteristics listed along the left side” (Vacca, & Vacca, 2005, p. 402). By completing the chart, students focus on the items their teachers are highlighting, and in addition, they create for themselves a study guide for use when preparing for tests or essay assignments. Another post-reading skill that I want my students to develop is the ability to summarize notes and what was read. I, again, use a modeling approach with the whole class first, asking students to contribute sentences, as we summarize a text together. I take an active role and encourage active learning.

Galda and Liang (2003) note that “educators who want to capitalize on the potentially rich experience that seems to motivate students to read…need to carefully orchestrate the questions, tasks, and tests” (p. 270). I take an active role in “planning instruction; establishing the structure necessary for successful implementation; observing, assisting, and guiding students and groups as they work; and assessing and adjusting the process” (Ruddell, 2004, p. 107). As freshmen in high school, my students are no longer learning to read, but as noted earlier, reading to learn, “a matter of meaning-making, problem-solving, and understanding” (Jacobs, 2002, p. 59). Because I work with what content area teachers assign my students, I do not get to choose the students’ textbooks; my explicit teaching of reading strategies, showing and not telling, though, may help my students navigate texts with greater success and confidence.

References:

Alvermann, D. E., Phelps, S. F., & Ridgeway, V. G. (2007). Content area reading and literacy: Succeeding in today’s diverse classrooms (5th ed.). Boston: Allyn & Bacon.

Beck, I. L., & McKeown, M. G. (2002, November). Questioning the author: Making sense of social studies [Electronic version]. Educational Leadership, 60(3).

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Fisher, A., (2001). Implementing graphic organizer notebooks: the art and science of teaching content. [Electronic version]. The Reading Teacher, 55, 116.

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“Inexperienced” and “Dumb” Are Not Synonyms, but…

Think about your first day at your first job — desperately trying to not look “new” and yet, hoping to spot a face in the midst that could be the source of support you might need? We don’t like being new, because when we are new, we often are also inexperienced — and that can cause us to feel “dumb” (a word I hate, but it best describes the feeling I’ve had when I’ve been this person). We quickly learn from experience that “inexperienced” and “dumb” are not synonyms, and that we need to seek out support systems if we want to succeed. Continuing my look at Langston’s 6 Success Attributes, I want to share about how I’ve considered the presence and use of effective support systems in my work with high school kids.

My supervisor of 7 years at is now headmaster at a school in Oregon this year, and he is working to establish means of supporting students at his new school similar to how we support them at the school I am continue at as Learning Specialist. He called me one day to ask me what seemed to make the biggest difference in whether or not a student progressed and succeeded in my program. At first, I said something that was pretty general and vague because I hadn’t really thought about it. Later that night…well, in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep and I was still thinking about his question…it hit me – it’s relationship! Every student who has succeeded in becoming an independent learner is one with whom I had developed a close, trusting relationship. When I couldn’t connect with a student, I lost him – and felt like I had failed. I know that we can’t connect with every kid, but in my particular school environment and being the only one in this role of Learning Specialist (not tutor), I feel that I need to connect and help each student who is referred to me because I want each one to develop the big picture skills of metacognitive thinking and strategies, rather than just leave with a finished homework assignment. The key goal of each session, in terms of my work, is to “focus on islands of competence” and maintain a positive, safe environment for my students (Ficksman & Adelizzi, 2010, p. 35). The most important message I need to convey to my students is that they can trust me enough to be honest with me. If something I suggest doesn’t work for them, then they can tell me and we’ll try something else. Early on, this is difficult for kids to do – there is a lot of “nodding and smiling” during those first sessions and then a lot of “nothing gained” as a result. Once I’ve gained the student’s trust, however, and have a rapport with him, they will tell me, “you know, I hate having to write stuff into a planner just because the school gave me a planner; can’t I use an app on my phone?” We weigh the pros and cons of each system and the student tries out the app for a week, and then lets me know at the next session if it worked better for him than the planner book.  When I see a student has a backpack bulging with loose papers, I joke about it and then offer to help “toss and file.” Some are hesitant, but usually with a few more jokes, I can get them started, and we start piling, and filing, and tossing, with me explaining the how-to’s and the why’s of the process as we each score “free-throws” into the trash or recycling baskets.

What I try to be is what Langston describes as the “Charismatic Adult” in each of my student’s lives. Langston believes that “the charismatic adult does more for a child with a learning disability than just offer support, foster good self-esteem, and help discover the child’s strengths. The charismatic adult teaches that child the power of human relationships. That child realizes that to make it, he or she will have to continue to partner with other people.” Just as I partner with my student to help him toss and file, my student can learn to partner with others to tackle tasks and activities and to engage with others socially. This relates to our discussion of pro-activity because helping students recognize when they need help and how to accept that help means that I often serve as a “bridge” between a student and the source of help so that student gains confidence in the help offered and learns to trust that others will support him.

Sometimes, as a bridge, I connect students to each other for support. This past year, I worked with two students who are autistic. Both of these students, Matt and James, struggle socially, so the first action I took was to introduce them to each other because they both like video games. I scheduled their meeting times with me for the same period so that they would have time to talk with me, but also to have time to talk with each other. After each seemed more comfortable with informal conversation, I introduced them to a third student, Cameron. Cameron, a senior, had worked with me for a couple of years so he knew why Matt and James were meeting with me, and not only that, he also played video games. As it turned out, Cameron was also in two of James’ classes and they ended up working on group projects together. When James needed to get involved in a community service activity for graduation requirements, Cameron encouraged him to join the Interact Club, and he did! I loved coming in one Monday and hearing James tell me about how he, Cameron, and the other kids made care packages on that Saturday at one of the kids’ homes. I believe that all of this happened because Matt and James learned to value each other’s support and social acceptance as we worked together, and because for Cameron, I was an adult whom he knew he could count on so he visited my room often, and he was willing to support two of my students because he understood the need for support from his own experience.

Look around…someone in your midst, whether a colleague or a student, may feel inexperienced in some area, and as a result, may feel “dumb” — I encourage you to be that source of support, that “charismatic” person in someone’s life.

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Filed under Passion and Purpose, Recommended Reading, Reflective Practice