"Watch How You Hold That Crayon" The New York Times 2/24/10
Interesting to find this in the Times' Fashion and Style section (rather than Education). I guess it is "trendy" for parents to look for occupational therapists to help strengthen their kids' fine motor skills. With less emphasis on letter formation and handwriting in schools, that would make sense. In my own practice, I have seen a lot more kids who are seeing OTs, and I have integrated Handwriting Without Tears into more of my own work.
There is not a lot of research on the subject, but beyond the inherent value in being able to write legibly, I believe there is a connection between using your hand to write and learning to read. Virginia Berninger and Beverly Wolf back me up in their recent Teaching Students with Dyslexia and Dysgraphia.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
WORLD OF LEARNING: TOXINS AND DEVELOPMENTAL DISORDERS
"Do Toxins Cause Autism?" The New York Times/Nicholas Kristof 2/24/10
It's time to get over the histrionics that sometimes enter discussions of a connection between the environment and the increase in developmental disorders in recent decades. Kristof, citing an article in the professional journal Current Opinion in Pediatrics, takes an important step in that direction. It's a subject that is also covered in a new book, Death by Rubber Duck: The Secret Danger of Everyday Things, recently featured on All Things Considered.
It's time to get over the histrionics that sometimes enter discussions of a connection between the environment and the increase in developmental disorders in recent decades. Kristof, citing an article in the professional journal Current Opinion in Pediatrics, takes an important step in that direction. It's a subject that is also covered in a new book, Death by Rubber Duck: The Secret Danger of Everyday Things, recently featured on All Things Considered.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
WORLD OF LEARNING: LEARNING, TEACHING, WIRING
"Smart Money in Tough Times: Improving Teacher Quality and Helping Kids Learn" Education Week 2/23/10
This article struck a chord due to my attendance of the Learning and the Brain Conference in San Francisco on Thursday, Friday and Saturday last week. One of the best presenters was John Medina, author of Brain Rules: 12 Principles for Surviving and Thriving at Work, Home, and School--a book I now have on my "to-read" list.
Medina, a developmental molecular biologist at the University of Washington and director of Seattle Pacific University's Brain Center for Applied Learning, gave a wide-ranging, witty and provocative talk entitled, "Brain Rules: The Meaning of Memory, Intelligence and Stress for Schools."
He cautioned that the study of the human brain is a field in its infancy, so we cannot really say with any assurance what brain science tells about best educational practices. To quote from Brain Rules: "In truth, if we ever fully understood how the human brain knew how to pick up a glass of water, it would represent a major achievement."
However, Medina told us, we can say with some confidence that every brain is wired differently. That is one of the things that makes research so complex. It also is one of the connections I made to Mary-Dean Barringer's "Smart Money" piece in Education Week. Barringer posits that "20 percent of students struggle to learn." Furthermore, "many...struggle unnecessarily, simply because they learn differently—their brains aren’t 'wired' the way their classmates' are."
Medina went on to discuss what he called the "edge" of learning, when a student advances from one level to another, and how a critical gap can take place there when the student does not really understand new ideas, leaving "holes in conceptualization." Perhaps the mark of a good teacher, he hypothesized, is one who understands how his charges are understanding, and can adjust curriculum accordingly.
While Barringer argues that economic savings would flow from teachers "trained to understand, identify, and address learning variation," Medina made the intriguing case that perhaps one day we will identify people with the aptitude for such training. How? He referred to psychology's Theory of Mind, an ability to put oneself into other minds through the awareness that we have very different minds, thinking very different thoughts. If we could quantify that, and then find people with strong Theory of Mind, we might predict they would be good teachers.
In a sense, aren't we already quantifying? Don't most professionals dealing with autism make the assumption that part of that diagnosis is a lack of Theory of Mind?
The teachers we remember with admiration are usually those who were not only enthusiastic about their subject, but who were also truly empathetic. They understood if we were "getting it" or not. More importantly, they understood why and did something about it. They knew that all brains are not "wired" the same way.
This article struck a chord due to my attendance of the Learning and the Brain Conference in San Francisco on Thursday, Friday and Saturday last week. One of the best presenters was John Medina, author of Brain Rules: 12 Principles for Surviving and Thriving at Work, Home, and School--a book I now have on my "to-read" list.
Medina, a developmental molecular biologist at the University of Washington and director of Seattle Pacific University's Brain Center for Applied Learning, gave a wide-ranging, witty and provocative talk entitled, "Brain Rules: The Meaning of Memory, Intelligence and Stress for Schools."
He cautioned that the study of the human brain is a field in its infancy, so we cannot really say with any assurance what brain science tells about best educational practices. To quote from Brain Rules: "In truth, if we ever fully understood how the human brain knew how to pick up a glass of water, it would represent a major achievement."
However, Medina told us, we can say with some confidence that every brain is wired differently. That is one of the things that makes research so complex. It also is one of the connections I made to Mary-Dean Barringer's "Smart Money" piece in Education Week. Barringer posits that "20 percent of students struggle to learn." Furthermore, "many...struggle unnecessarily, simply because they learn differently—their brains aren’t 'wired' the way their classmates' are."
Medina went on to discuss what he called the "edge" of learning, when a student advances from one level to another, and how a critical gap can take place there when the student does not really understand new ideas, leaving "holes in conceptualization." Perhaps the mark of a good teacher, he hypothesized, is one who understands how his charges are understanding, and can adjust curriculum accordingly.
While Barringer argues that economic savings would flow from teachers "trained to understand, identify, and address learning variation," Medina made the intriguing case that perhaps one day we will identify people with the aptitude for such training. How? He referred to psychology's Theory of Mind, an ability to put oneself into other minds through the awareness that we have very different minds, thinking very different thoughts. If we could quantify that, and then find people with strong Theory of Mind, we might predict they would be good teachers.
In a sense, aren't we already quantifying? Don't most professionals dealing with autism make the assumption that part of that diagnosis is a lack of Theory of Mind?
The teachers we remember with admiration are usually those who were not only enthusiastic about their subject, but who were also truly empathetic. They understood if we were "getting it" or not. More importantly, they understood why and did something about it. They knew that all brains are not "wired" the same way.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
WORLD OF LEARNING: MY REVIEW OF "READICIDE: HOW SCHOOLS ARE KILLING READING AND WHAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT"
READICIDE: HOW SCHOOLS ARE KILLING READING AND WHAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. By Kelly Gallagher. Stenhouse, 2009. 150 pages.
This was a perfect book to read in conjunction with Nancie Atwell’s The Reading Zone, along with my current reading on reading, Louise Rosenblatt’s seminal Literature as Exploration.
All three authors emphasize the need for students to read what they are interested in reading, and to be given the time to pursue those interests. Both Atwell and Gallagher believe kids deserve the freedom to be captured and captivated by books, without having to fill out volumes of worksheets or paste in reams of sticky notes.
"It is not enough," notes Rosenblatt, "merely to think of what the student ought to read. Choices must reflect a sense of the possible links between those materials and present levels of emotional maturity."
If children personally connect to books, they will want to read books. If they want to read books, they will read more. Surely, more reading will lead to more proficient reading, increased vocabulary, advanced understanding and empathy, and improved thinking. Atwell persuasively argues for the connection between "frequent, voluminous reading" and success, both academically and in life.
Like Atwell, Gallagher clearly respects whole language philosophy. Readacide (a catchy title, and one that catches what I see happening to some middle school students) starts with a foreword by Richard Allington and ends with a nod to Regie Routman, two authors closely identified with whole language.
Indeed, Gallagher takes an even more active political stance than Atwell, berating what he calls the Paige Paradox, named after George W. Bush’s secretary of education. A narrow overemphasis on teaching to tests that assess reading skills, Gallagher proposes, has resulted in a dangerous de-emphasis on reading itself.
When students are assessed, those in schools with fewer resources are, unsurprisingly, found to be the ones who do worst. Low-performing schools are then given fewer tax dollars and pushed toward more "teaching to the test." A vicious cycle is now in place, where the solution to the problem creates a bigger and bigger problem.
But Gallagher does not want to eliminate accountability. Instead, he makes the case, like Atwell, that if students had more choices and read more, test scores would improve. Two other benefits would accrue: students would build more background knowledge and would acquire the habit of reading for pleasure.
Actually, I found Gallagher’s approach to be more measured than Atwell’s. "As much as I respect Atwell," he writes, "she and I part" on the issue of required reading and the dissection of that reading.
Gallagher points out that first of all, this is a given. School districts mandate titles and invest in them. Teachers must teach them. This isn’t all bad, either. There is value in being aware of a canon, as hard as it might be for stakeholders to agree on what should be in it. And there is value in an entire class focusing on one piece of literature.
More importantly, students should be challenged with works they would not choose, and should learn about methods of analyzing such works and their underlying structures. Done in the right way, this can enhance their personal reading and push it to a higher level.
Teachers, says Gallagher, need to find the "sweet spot" when teaching classic literature. While he would agree with Atwell that there is a danger in "overteaching," he might not see eye to eye with her denigration of explicitly taught comprehension techniques, promoted in influential books like Ellin Keene and Susan Zimmerman’s Mosaic of Thought and Stephanie Harvey and Anne Goudis’s Strategies That Work.
This is because Gallagher worries about "underteaching" reading strategies as well. While too much attention to the details can interfere with overall understanding, I agree with Gallagher that students need to learn how to learn, and how good readers come to terms with complex test.
While making this point, Gallagher does not give up on reading by choice. He advocates what he calls the 50/50 approach, telling us that "half of the reading I want my students to do is recreational. That means there is no framing, no second- and third-draft reading, no big chunk/little chunk approach, no guided tour, and no time examining metacognition."
This appeal for balance really resonated with me. Reading Atwell, Gallagher and Rosenblatt, I’ve had to overcome my aversion to two seemingly innocuous words, "whole language." I’ve struggled with getting away from the "you're wrong and I'm right" paradigm and moving toward a "what works" model. Invective just gets in the way.
From my work with children, it’s clear to me that many kids, not reading as much as they should, are not given enough encouragement and opportunity to discover what they want to read. We should be as insistent about instilling a love of literacy as we are about developing the skills necessary for literacy.
It’s clear that Gallagher loves to read. Readacide is full of high and low literary references, and an appendix called "101 Books My Reluctant Readers Love to Read" shows that he is paying attention to what hooks kids today.
This was a perfect book to read in conjunction with Nancie Atwell’s The Reading Zone, along with my current reading on reading, Louise Rosenblatt’s seminal Literature as Exploration.
All three authors emphasize the need for students to read what they are interested in reading, and to be given the time to pursue those interests. Both Atwell and Gallagher believe kids deserve the freedom to be captured and captivated by books, without having to fill out volumes of worksheets or paste in reams of sticky notes.
"It is not enough," notes Rosenblatt, "merely to think of what the student ought to read. Choices must reflect a sense of the possible links between those materials and present levels of emotional maturity."
If children personally connect to books, they will want to read books. If they want to read books, they will read more. Surely, more reading will lead to more proficient reading, increased vocabulary, advanced understanding and empathy, and improved thinking. Atwell persuasively argues for the connection between "frequent, voluminous reading" and success, both academically and in life.
Like Atwell, Gallagher clearly respects whole language philosophy. Readacide (a catchy title, and one that catches what I see happening to some middle school students) starts with a foreword by Richard Allington and ends with a nod to Regie Routman, two authors closely identified with whole language.
Indeed, Gallagher takes an even more active political stance than Atwell, berating what he calls the Paige Paradox, named after George W. Bush’s secretary of education. A narrow overemphasis on teaching to tests that assess reading skills, Gallagher proposes, has resulted in a dangerous de-emphasis on reading itself.
When students are assessed, those in schools with fewer resources are, unsurprisingly, found to be the ones who do worst. Low-performing schools are then given fewer tax dollars and pushed toward more "teaching to the test." A vicious cycle is now in place, where the solution to the problem creates a bigger and bigger problem.
But Gallagher does not want to eliminate accountability. Instead, he makes the case, like Atwell, that if students had more choices and read more, test scores would improve. Two other benefits would accrue: students would build more background knowledge and would acquire the habit of reading for pleasure.
Actually, I found Gallagher’s approach to be more measured than Atwell’s. "As much as I respect Atwell," he writes, "she and I part" on the issue of required reading and the dissection of that reading.
Gallagher points out that first of all, this is a given. School districts mandate titles and invest in them. Teachers must teach them. This isn’t all bad, either. There is value in being aware of a canon, as hard as it might be for stakeholders to agree on what should be in it. And there is value in an entire class focusing on one piece of literature.
More importantly, students should be challenged with works they would not choose, and should learn about methods of analyzing such works and their underlying structures. Done in the right way, this can enhance their personal reading and push it to a higher level.
Teachers, says Gallagher, need to find the "sweet spot" when teaching classic literature. While he would agree with Atwell that there is a danger in "overteaching," he might not see eye to eye with her denigration of explicitly taught comprehension techniques, promoted in influential books like Ellin Keene and Susan Zimmerman’s Mosaic of Thought and Stephanie Harvey and Anne Goudis’s Strategies That Work.
This is because Gallagher worries about "underteaching" reading strategies as well. While too much attention to the details can interfere with overall understanding, I agree with Gallagher that students need to learn how to learn, and how good readers come to terms with complex test.
While making this point, Gallagher does not give up on reading by choice. He advocates what he calls the 50/50 approach, telling us that "half of the reading I want my students to do is recreational. That means there is no framing, no second- and third-draft reading, no big chunk/little chunk approach, no guided tour, and no time examining metacognition."
This appeal for balance really resonated with me. Reading Atwell, Gallagher and Rosenblatt, I’ve had to overcome my aversion to two seemingly innocuous words, "whole language." I’ve struggled with getting away from the "you're wrong and I'm right" paradigm and moving toward a "what works" model. Invective just gets in the way.
From my work with children, it’s clear to me that many kids, not reading as much as they should, are not given enough encouragement and opportunity to discover what they want to read. We should be as insistent about instilling a love of literacy as we are about developing the skills necessary for literacy.
It’s clear that Gallagher loves to read. Readacide is full of high and low literary references, and an appendix called "101 Books My Reluctant Readers Love to Read" shows that he is paying attention to what hooks kids today.
Friday, February 12, 2010
LARS'S LIBRARY: LITERARY LINKS
With the release of The Lightning Thief movie, let me remind you of Rick Riordan's inspiration for the Percy Jackson series: his learning-diabled son. Read Riordan's 2005 blog entry: "The Learning-Disabled Hero."
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
WORLD OF LEARNING: LEARNING TO READ AND HAVING A REASON TO DO SO
Nice dialogue with "4th-8th" set in motion by my review of The Reading Zone on my Goodreads page :
message 1: by 4th-8th 2/9/10
Book choice is often the only way to inspire reading. My experiences with two sons who struggle with reading actually brought me to Goodreads as the perfect data base for reviews and making lists of books. If a book sounds good I check out the vocabulary and readability on Amazon with the books that have the “look inside” feature. Then it is on a list or I am off to the library or book store. And I certainly agree that reading personally chosen books will never replace a systematic reading program for those who have language based disabilities such as dyslexia. The whole language approach will not give a dyslexic student the tools they need to decode text. Mastery of text needs to be in place before reading can be a somewhat satisfying experience. Our education system cannot take this for granted in the equation of helping to make a reader.
message 2: by Lars 2/9/10
Thanks for the thoughtful comments. I've noticed that sometimes high interest can push reading levels up, and there is some research that backs that up. Kids have to learn how to read, but they also have to have a reason to read.
message 3: by 4th-8th 2/10/10
Your last sentence is dead on. My oldest son seems to have both now. The youngest is still working on the reason, and I am hoping for that leap. He is the big audio book fan. Jonathan Mooney of 'Learning Outside the Lines' said he did not learn to read until he was twelve. Perhaps it has something to do with executive function developement at that age, as long as high interest books and remediation have been provided.
message 4: by Lars 2/10/10
If you ever have a chance to see Mooney speak (if you haven't heard him yet), he's great...a wild man full of enthusiasm and a shining example to kids that you can be different, you can struggle with things, and yet you can still be successful.
Kurt Fischer, the director of Harvard's Mind, Brain and Education Program, spoke at a conference I went to a few years ago, and referred to a study done on boys diagnosed as dyslexics who became successful readers. The commonality was that most found a subject area they were passionate about around seventh grade. The commonality in that subject area was war, and specifically the Civil War. I just thought that was fascinating, even if it is one isolated study.
In line with that and your observation about Mooney learning to read at twelve (although he says he still has to work hard to do it), a recent article in the NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/21/health/research/21brain.html?_r=1&pagewanted=1) mentioned a study where "scientists found that the brain’s ability to link letter combinations with sounds may not be fully developed until age 11 — much later than many have assumed."
Thanks for getting me thinking about this stuff, 4th-8th.
message 1: by 4th-8th 2/9/10
Book choice is often the only way to inspire reading. My experiences with two sons who struggle with reading actually brought me to Goodreads as the perfect data base for reviews and making lists of books. If a book sounds good I check out the vocabulary and readability on Amazon with the books that have the “look inside” feature. Then it is on a list or I am off to the library or book store. And I certainly agree that reading personally chosen books will never replace a systematic reading program for those who have language based disabilities such as dyslexia. The whole language approach will not give a dyslexic student the tools they need to decode text. Mastery of text needs to be in place before reading can be a somewhat satisfying experience. Our education system cannot take this for granted in the equation of helping to make a reader.
message 2: by Lars 2/9/10
Thanks for the thoughtful comments. I've noticed that sometimes high interest can push reading levels up, and there is some research that backs that up. Kids have to learn how to read, but they also have to have a reason to read.
message 3: by 4th-8th 2/10/10
Your last sentence is dead on. My oldest son seems to have both now. The youngest is still working on the reason, and I am hoping for that leap. He is the big audio book fan. Jonathan Mooney of 'Learning Outside the Lines' said he did not learn to read until he was twelve. Perhaps it has something to do with executive function developement at that age, as long as high interest books and remediation have been provided.
message 4: by Lars 2/10/10
If you ever have a chance to see Mooney speak (if you haven't heard him yet), he's great...a wild man full of enthusiasm and a shining example to kids that you can be different, you can struggle with things, and yet you can still be successful.
Kurt Fischer, the director of Harvard's Mind, Brain and Education Program, spoke at a conference I went to a few years ago, and referred to a study done on boys diagnosed as dyslexics who became successful readers. The commonality was that most found a subject area they were passionate about around seventh grade. The commonality in that subject area was war, and specifically the Civil War. I just thought that was fascinating, even if it is one isolated study.
In line with that and your observation about Mooney learning to read at twelve (although he says he still has to work hard to do it), a recent article in the NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/21/health/research/21brain.html?_r=1&pagewanted=1) mentioned a study where "scientists found that the brain’s ability to link letter combinations with sounds may not be fully developed until age 11 — much later than many have assumed."
Thanks for getting me thinking about this stuff, 4th-8th.
WORLD OF LEARNING
"Early language problems may hinder adult literacy" Reuters 2/9/10
"What Brain Imaging Shows Us About Gifted Learners" Teacher Magazine Unwrapping the Gift Blog 2/9/10
"'Algebra-for-All' Push Found to Yield Poor Results" Education Week 2/9/10
"Is genius genetic or is it nurtured? Pittsburgh Post-Gazette 2/9/10
"What Brain Imaging Shows Us About Gifted Learners" Teacher Magazine Unwrapping the Gift Blog 2/9/10
"'Algebra-for-All' Push Found to Yield Poor Results" Education Week 2/9/10
"Is genius genetic or is it nurtured? Pittsburgh Post-Gazette 2/9/10
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
WORLD OF LEARNING: BALANCE
"Willingham: Why We Have to Teach Children 'Content' Too" Early Ed Watch Blog 2/8/10
"Willingham: On Susan Engel and 'Playing to Learn'" Washington Post/The Answer Sheet Blog 2/5/10
"Playing to Learn" The New York Times 2/1/2010
"KIPP: Learning a Lesson from Big Business" BusinessWeek 2/4/10
The three opinion pieces starting with Susan Engel's "Playing to Learn" Op/Ed piece in The New York Times resonated with me because I just finished reviewing Nancie Atwell's The Reading Zone where I was concerned about balancing educational approaches, too. In this content vs. concept discussion (I use that word instead of debate since Daniel Willingham was refreshingly non-combative in his Washington Post response to Engel's thesis), we should remember two principles: that one size doesn't fit all, one way isn't the way, and that depth is more important than breadth.
Superficial learning and teaching can be a by-product of "progressive curricula" or traditional methodology. On the one hand, you get empty touchy-feely schooling, on the other, mindless rote work. Engel is right to push for "a curriculum designed to raise children, rather than test scores...free of the laundry list of goals currently harnessing our teachers and students ...devoted instead to just a few narrowly defined and deeply focused goals." Willingham is right to insist that such a curriculum be disciplined and rigorous, so that progressive methods do not "turn in to fluff, into kids horsing around a greenhouse."
"Willingham: On Susan Engel and 'Playing to Learn'" Washington Post/The Answer Sheet Blog 2/5/10
"Playing to Learn" The New York Times 2/1/2010
"KIPP: Learning a Lesson from Big Business" BusinessWeek 2/4/10
The three opinion pieces starting with Susan Engel's "Playing to Learn" Op/Ed piece in The New York Times resonated with me because I just finished reviewing Nancie Atwell's The Reading Zone where I was concerned about balancing educational approaches, too. In this content vs. concept discussion (I use that word instead of debate since Daniel Willingham was refreshingly non-combative in his Washington Post response to Engel's thesis), we should remember two principles: that one size doesn't fit all, one way isn't the way, and that depth is more important than breadth.
Superficial learning and teaching can be a by-product of "progressive curricula" or traditional methodology. On the one hand, you get empty touchy-feely schooling, on the other, mindless rote work. Engel is right to push for "a curriculum designed to raise children, rather than test scores...free of the laundry list of goals currently harnessing our teachers and students ...devoted instead to just a few narrowly defined and deeply focused goals." Willingham is right to insist that such a curriculum be disciplined and rigorous, so that progressive methods do not "turn in to fluff, into kids horsing around a greenhouse."
Sunday, February 7, 2010
WORLD OF LEARNING: MY REVIEW OF "THE READING ZONE" BY NANCIE ATWELL
THE READING ZONE: HOW TO HELP KIDS BECOME SKILLED, PASSIONATE, HABITUAL, CRITICAL READERS. By Nancie Atwell. Scholastic, 2007. 144 pages.
The Reading Zone sets itself up as a manifesto. The answer to its subtitle, How to Help Kids Become Skilled, Passionate, Habitual, Critical Readers, could be neatly summed up with one word: “choice.” Following a quick tour of her hushed classroom—“nineteen students…reading nineteen books”—Nancie Atwell makes the declaration of principle that is this brief but powerful work’s raison d’etre: “The only surefire way to induce a love of books is to invite students to select their own.”
Furthermore, “starting in kindergarten and going straight through until the end of high school, free choice of books should be a young reader’s right, not a privilege granted by a kind teacher.”
And if you haven’t gotten the idea, Atwell explicitly states: “this book is nothing less than a manifesto.”
Agree or disagree, Atwell certainly makes you examine your own priorities and those of our educational system.
While raising the caveat that perhaps there is no one “surefire way” when it comes to children and literacy, I’ll join the cause. I’ve seen curiosity about, and enthusiasm for reading stifled by assigned books and reams of seatwork—from worksheets to dioramas. I’ve seen kids learn to hate books I love, as the joy of discovery is drained away by study guides and overanalyzation.
I agree with author Jon Scieszka, picked by the Library of Congress to be last year’s national ambassador for young people's literature: “It's so concrete that we can just give boys books that they enjoy and not try to force them to read other books that we enjoy.”
I came to The Reading Zone after it was cited in a New York Times article that had me cheering, about the reading workshop approach that Atwell, and Lucy Calkins of the Reading and Writing Project at Columbia University's Teachers College, have developed.
Although I’m dubious when the words “research shows” crop up, or statistics are employed without citation, my gut, and common sense, tells me to buy into Atwell’s claim that “the single activity that correlates with high levels of performance on standardized tests of reading ability…is frequent, voluminous reading.”
Atwell not only makes a strong case for giving kids choices. She also insists that teachers be readers themselves, and conversant with what kids are reading, so they can guide their students to the books that will engage them.
She helps guide those teachers with many references to authors and novels that pepper the text of The Reading Zone. Additionally, she points to the reading lists put together by the students at her school, the Center for Teaching and Learning in Edgecomb, Maine. These are invaluable surveys of what is happening in children's and young adult literature.
Teachers will find lots of practical and down-to-earth advice on how to run reading workshops, from the logistics of classroom lending libraries to book talks and assessment methods.
Any book with a cover picturing a boy in the “reading zone,” comfortably ensconced in a classroom overflowing with books, avidly reading one of the novels in one of my favorite series, the Tomorrow books by John Marsden, has got to be basically all right.
But there were some aspects of The Reading Zone that troubled me. Shortly after making her initial bold argument that “free choice of books should be a young reader’s right,” Atwell quotes Frank Smith: “Children know how to comprehend, provided they are in a situation that has the possibility of making sense to them.”
Readers familiar with the “reading wars” of past decades (they were supposed to be over, I thought) will recognize that Smith as one of the founders and chief proponents of the “whole language” movement. It’s disingenuous of Atwell not to acknowledge this, and to implicitly dismiss, as she does at several points in The Reading Zone, the opposing school of thought.
The subtext of Smith’s words is that reading is, analogous to Noam Chomsky’s theory of universal grammar, a skill with which we are born. To say this is a view that has been discredited is perhaps too strong, but it is easy to make the case that in the last couple of decades much evidence has come forth that at the least puts such an outlook in serious doubt.
The reason why people began looking for that evidence was because, despite immersion in great literature from the earliest age, it is clear that some children still have difficulty learning to read. There has been a plethora of books and articles advocating more explicit and systematic reading instruction, from neuroscientists like Sally Shaywitz to educators like G. Reid Lyon and Louisa Moats.
Yet when Atwell rightly asserts that teachers should read about teaching reading, it is as if those works had never been published. Instead, her recommended list is very one-sided, including such paragons of whole language as Kenneth Goodman and Regie Routman.
My own experience over the last thirteen years helping poor readers overcome their difficulties tells me that throwing children into an ocean of books, and assuming they will swim, means that some will drown. Reading is more than a psycholinguistic guessing game.
“It’s wonderful how often children are able to put together all the clues,” Atwell tells us, “and read the correct word the next time through.” For a poor reader who sees others automatically reading words the first time through, it can also be frustrating.
Atwell dismisses those who choose “to define reading…as the pronunciation of nonsense syllables in isolation.” I’m not sure anyone defines reading that way. Learning how to decode print, however, which might involve reading nonsense words, can be liberating for a poor reader.
Beneath Atwell’s passionate and heartfelt thesis is a vein of dogmatism that is unsettling. She says kids should have choices, but won’t let them choose books of which she doesn’t approve, like “teen celebrity bios.”
Atwell is negative about teaching comprehension strategies for fiction, such as those in Ellin Keene and Susan Zimmerman’s great Mosaic of Thought. She refers to Louise Rosenblatt’s two modes of reading: efferent, where we are garnering specific information, and aesthetic, where we are living through a story. But as Atwell herself points out, these are “parallel frames of mind, existing on a continuum.”
That gets at the crux of my problem with the otherwise excellent The Reading Zone. The learning process is not black and white. There is a time and a place to read fiction in an efferent mode, and to read nonfiction in an aesthetic mode.
Children should be given freedom to choose books that lead to enthusiastic reading. Children should learn effective strategies to develop into good readers and critical thinkers. These should, and can be parallel avenues toward producing successful readers and successful members of society. If we limit education by restricting pedagogy to one correct school of thought, we are limiting learners and teachers.
The Reading Zone sets itself up as a manifesto. The answer to its subtitle, How to Help Kids Become Skilled, Passionate, Habitual, Critical Readers, could be neatly summed up with one word: “choice.” Following a quick tour of her hushed classroom—“nineteen students…reading nineteen books”—Nancie Atwell makes the declaration of principle that is this brief but powerful work’s raison d’etre: “The only surefire way to induce a love of books is to invite students to select their own.”
Furthermore, “starting in kindergarten and going straight through until the end of high school, free choice of books should be a young reader’s right, not a privilege granted by a kind teacher.”
And if you haven’t gotten the idea, Atwell explicitly states: “this book is nothing less than a manifesto.”
Agree or disagree, Atwell certainly makes you examine your own priorities and those of our educational system.
While raising the caveat that perhaps there is no one “surefire way” when it comes to children and literacy, I’ll join the cause. I’ve seen curiosity about, and enthusiasm for reading stifled by assigned books and reams of seatwork—from worksheets to dioramas. I’ve seen kids learn to hate books I love, as the joy of discovery is drained away by study guides and overanalyzation.
I agree with author Jon Scieszka, picked by the Library of Congress to be last year’s national ambassador for young people's literature: “It's so concrete that we can just give boys books that they enjoy and not try to force them to read other books that we enjoy.”
I came to The Reading Zone after it was cited in a New York Times article that had me cheering, about the reading workshop approach that Atwell, and Lucy Calkins of the Reading and Writing Project at Columbia University's Teachers College, have developed.
Although I’m dubious when the words “research shows” crop up, or statistics are employed without citation, my gut, and common sense, tells me to buy into Atwell’s claim that “the single activity that correlates with high levels of performance on standardized tests of reading ability…is frequent, voluminous reading.”
Atwell not only makes a strong case for giving kids choices. She also insists that teachers be readers themselves, and conversant with what kids are reading, so they can guide their students to the books that will engage them.
She helps guide those teachers with many references to authors and novels that pepper the text of The Reading Zone. Additionally, she points to the reading lists put together by the students at her school, the Center for Teaching and Learning in Edgecomb, Maine. These are invaluable surveys of what is happening in children's and young adult literature.
Teachers will find lots of practical and down-to-earth advice on how to run reading workshops, from the logistics of classroom lending libraries to book talks and assessment methods.
Any book with a cover picturing a boy in the “reading zone,” comfortably ensconced in a classroom overflowing with books, avidly reading one of the novels in one of my favorite series, the Tomorrow books by John Marsden, has got to be basically all right.
But there were some aspects of The Reading Zone that troubled me. Shortly after making her initial bold argument that “free choice of books should be a young reader’s right,” Atwell quotes Frank Smith: “Children know how to comprehend, provided they are in a situation that has the possibility of making sense to them.”
Readers familiar with the “reading wars” of past decades (they were supposed to be over, I thought) will recognize that Smith as one of the founders and chief proponents of the “whole language” movement. It’s disingenuous of Atwell not to acknowledge this, and to implicitly dismiss, as she does at several points in The Reading Zone, the opposing school of thought.
The subtext of Smith’s words is that reading is, analogous to Noam Chomsky’s theory of universal grammar, a skill with which we are born. To say this is a view that has been discredited is perhaps too strong, but it is easy to make the case that in the last couple of decades much evidence has come forth that at the least puts such an outlook in serious doubt.
The reason why people began looking for that evidence was because, despite immersion in great literature from the earliest age, it is clear that some children still have difficulty learning to read. There has been a plethora of books and articles advocating more explicit and systematic reading instruction, from neuroscientists like Sally Shaywitz to educators like G. Reid Lyon and Louisa Moats.
Yet when Atwell rightly asserts that teachers should read about teaching reading, it is as if those works had never been published. Instead, her recommended list is very one-sided, including such paragons of whole language as Kenneth Goodman and Regie Routman.
My own experience over the last thirteen years helping poor readers overcome their difficulties tells me that throwing children into an ocean of books, and assuming they will swim, means that some will drown. Reading is more than a psycholinguistic guessing game.
“It’s wonderful how often children are able to put together all the clues,” Atwell tells us, “and read the correct word the next time through.” For a poor reader who sees others automatically reading words the first time through, it can also be frustrating.
Atwell dismisses those who choose “to define reading…as the pronunciation of nonsense syllables in isolation.” I’m not sure anyone defines reading that way. Learning how to decode print, however, which might involve reading nonsense words, can be liberating for a poor reader.
Beneath Atwell’s passionate and heartfelt thesis is a vein of dogmatism that is unsettling. She says kids should have choices, but won’t let them choose books of which she doesn’t approve, like “teen celebrity bios.”
Atwell is negative about teaching comprehension strategies for fiction, such as those in Ellin Keene and Susan Zimmerman’s great Mosaic of Thought. She refers to Louise Rosenblatt’s two modes of reading: efferent, where we are garnering specific information, and aesthetic, where we are living through a story. But as Atwell herself points out, these are “parallel frames of mind, existing on a continuum.”
That gets at the crux of my problem with the otherwise excellent The Reading Zone. The learning process is not black and white. There is a time and a place to read fiction in an efferent mode, and to read nonfiction in an aesthetic mode.
Children should be given freedom to choose books that lead to enthusiastic reading. Children should learn effective strategies to develop into good readers and critical thinkers. These should, and can be parallel avenues toward producing successful readers and successful members of society. If we limit education by restricting pedagogy to one correct school of thought, we are limiting learners and teachers.
Friday, February 5, 2010
LARS'S LIBRARY: ALA AWARDS
The American Library Association (ALA) 2010 awards, which include the Newbery and the Caldecott, are out. If you are looking for something new and exciting in children's literature, this is a great place to begin your search.
The glowing reviews I've read for Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, which takes off from A Wrinkle in Time, have really piqued my curiosity. Add to that the fact that it has already had a good run on bestseller lists. It's turning into a must-read for me. All of the Honor books appear particularly strong this year as well, with Grace Lin and Rodman Philbrick, both of whose previous work is great, represented.
Jerry Pinkney's fabulous interpretation of Aesop's fable, The Lion and the Mouse, took the Caldecott Award this year. Saying this imaginative and nearly wordless creation is for four to eight-year-olds is unnecessarily limiting. It's one for everyone to enjoy.
I'm also familiar with the Sibert Honor winner by Brian Floca, Moonshot, and Art Spiegelman's publishing foray for children's comics, Toon Books, which won the Geisel. I recommend both. I was utterly amazed by the Alex Award winner, the incredible Stitches by David Small.
And it's wonderful to see some great authors getting recognition for their great catalogs: the May Hill Arbuthnot Honor Lecture Award to Lois Lowry, the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement in writing for young adults to Jim Murphy, and the first-ever Coretta Scott King-Virginia Hamilton Award for Lifetime Achievement to Walter Dean Myers.
The glowing reviews I've read for Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, which takes off from A Wrinkle in Time, have really piqued my curiosity. Add to that the fact that it has already had a good run on bestseller lists. It's turning into a must-read for me. All of the Honor books appear particularly strong this year as well, with Grace Lin and Rodman Philbrick, both of whose previous work is great, represented.
Jerry Pinkney's fabulous interpretation of Aesop's fable, The Lion and the Mouse, took the Caldecott Award this year. Saying this imaginative and nearly wordless creation is for four to eight-year-olds is unnecessarily limiting. It's one for everyone to enjoy.
I'm also familiar with the Sibert Honor winner by Brian Floca, Moonshot, and Art Spiegelman's publishing foray for children's comics, Toon Books, which won the Geisel. I recommend both. I was utterly amazed by the Alex Award winner, the incredible Stitches by David Small.
And it's wonderful to see some great authors getting recognition for their great catalogs: the May Hill Arbuthnot Honor Lecture Award to Lois Lowry, the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement in writing for young adults to Jim Murphy, and the first-ever Coretta Scott King-Virginia Hamilton Award for Lifetime Achievement to Walter Dean Myers.
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