Do Not Read Past This Title Till Next Tuesday

When I met with my colleagues last week who were busy preparing a workshop on reading partnerships and book clubs, a very thought provoking question arose: When kids set their assignments for literature circles, is it okay to say, "AND DON'T READ ON!"?


Teachers have good reasons for saying this. Their biggest concern is that early finishers will spoil the ending for those who haven't finished reading the book. Then there is the fear that the details of the book will become fuzzy for kids who read too much too soon calling into question the quality of their contributions to group discussion. Then, of course, there are those who issue this dictum merely because it seems to be the intuitive thing to do. When you read a book with a partner or friend, you read at the same pace.

Right?

Book partnerships and clubs are meant to mimic the reading behaviors of sophisticated adult readers. For years, people have been gathering to talk around books that they are passionate about. It is both stimulating and deeply gratifying to come together to discuss our thoughts and questions about a shared reading experience. Talk helps us to achieve new understandings and insights about the text being read.

This summer, I have been meeting with my study group to discuss Anne Goudvis and Stephanie Harvey's Strategies That Work: Teaching Comprehension for Understanding and Engagement (Amazon affiliate link). Each time we meet, we set a goal for the number of chapters that we'd like to read before our next meeting. I like having a goal. It disciplines me to make sure that reading is a priority. But, if I were to read on, I think I would be equally prepared for the conversation. And my group wouldn't be mad. Granted, if this book were fiction, I'd know the ending before them. But, as a sophisticated adult reader, I'd know better than to reveal the surprise.

Thinking about my own book club has really helped me rethink the "Don't read on" rule. I think it sends a very mixed message to kids to communicate in one breath that they need to read a lot and then impose limits in the next. If we are worried that kids will forget what they read and won't be equipped to make intelligent contributions to the discussion, we need to teach them how to track their thinking and how to prepare for book conversations. And for those worried about the "spoiler," that too comes back to good teaching. Instead of simply solving the problem by saying, "Don't read on," why not say instead, "Today our mini lesson is going to be the problems that can arise when book club members read ahead..."

What do you think? Should kids be able to read to the end? Or, are there other reasons why kids should stay together with the pack?

Magic? Or Just Reflective Teaching? Lessons from a 9 Year Old

When last I left you, I had imposed upon the nine year teacher of the Dark Arts and suggested that he listen to his students. He was slightly annoyed but the next day something amazing happened.

Lessons at Hogwarts resumed. In preparation for the day’s lesson, Matthew prepared a ditto so that his students didn’t have to write as much. As it turned out, it did cut down slightly on the amount of writing Matthew’s students had to do. But, they never finished taking the notes about the fantastic beasts that Matthew had prepared for his lesson.

Later that evening, it was time for another class at Hogwarts. This time, Matthew decided that he wasn’t going to have his students copy notes. He was going to read aloud to them and ask them to draw pictures of how they imagined gnomes. He was surprised at the outcome. As he read, Nathan drew a diagram and labeled it. He took notes on what Matthew was saying. When all was said and done, Nathan filled up almost four pieces of paper with drawings and words.

When I asked Matthew what made the difference, he admitted that this perplexed him but as he thought about it, he guessed it was because his teaching was “more inclusive.” He thought that allowing Nathan to draw really helped and he thought that because it was more about what Nathan was interested in, he was more willing to write and participate than he had been when Matthew was telling him what he should do.

As a teacher, and a teacher of teachers, I have been thinking a lot about what happened in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in my basement. When Matthew’s original plan wasn’t working, he made an attempt to change it. When his second plan didn’t get the results he wanted, he changed again. He didn’t complain that Nathan was defiant, hyper-active, ill-behaved, attention deficit, or simply incapable. He realized that the problem was his methodology and HE changed. And then suddenly, he had a successful student.

I think Matthew’s experience as a Dark Arts Instructor holds many lessons for us as educators. While some might attribute his attitude and success to magic (and the naiveté of youth), I think it’s more than that. I call it good teaching.

Taking Notes in Defense Against the Dark Arts

My nine year old son has recently discovered the joy of Harry Potter and has immersed himself in the world of Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. It has been fascinating to watch how this reading experience has transcended the pages of his book to his world of play. He has built Diagon Alley out of Lego, he raided my broom closet for everything with a long handle to play quidditch in the backyard, and at this very moment, he is downstairs pretending to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher instructing his brother and friend on how to cast spells against all things evil.

However, school is not going well. The Dark Arts students are revolting. They are seven years old and are being forced to copy notes. My younger son complains, “Matthew, I want to play but it’s the writing I hate!”

I listened as things heated up and decided to seize the teachable moment. I called Matthew upstairs and said, “You know, I think it’s important that you listen to your students. Think about what Nathan is saying to you.”

A tad bit annoyed at my interference, Matthew retorted. “Mom, he’s going into second grade. They’re going to be doing a lot more writing.”

This was a funny moment to me. One of Matthew’s pet peeves is teachers who say “you’re going to need this…when you’re in fifth grade, when you get to the middle school, when…”

And here he was defending his teaching using the exact same language.

There are certain things that we do as teachers that make students groan (writing notes on the board for students to copy and memorize, administering an ELA practice test for the seventh time…). When students ask why, the best answer we can give them is “just because.” We sometimes follow it up with inane comments like “it will make you smarter, it’ll help you on the test, it’s good for you, it will help you when you get to middle school, or you’ll need it next year.” But the bottom line is, sometimes, we don’t have a good reason.

And this is a bad practice.

We need to think hard about what we are teaching and why we are teaching it. Time is one of teaching’s greatest demons and I am sure that any good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would insist that if our justification for teaching is “because,” the antidote is simple: Abracadabra, circular file.