Literacy Now

We go out for dinner, and the waiter doesn’t greet us. We go to the grocery store, and the bagger doesn’t ask us if we want paper or plastic. We go to the drive-through, and the attendant doesn’t make eye contact when handing us our change.

What were once referred to as “manners” are now called “soft skills” and, if you didn’t know this already, many young people don’t have them.

We’re quick to blame society for these missing skills. Obviously, these individuals were never taught these basic, yet vital, behaviors. It’s someone else’s fault and someone else’s problem.

But it’s not someone else’s fault, and it’s not someone else’s problem.

As teachers, we have been entrusted with the education of our students, but the term “education” has taken on a new meaning. Today, education means the whole child, not just the academics.

Bill Daggett, author of “Five Trends That Are Transforming Education,” writes, “We know that there is more to life than the core subjects of math, science, English language arts, and social studies. Personal and interpersonal skills—such as responsibility, self-management, integrity, honesty, collaboration, and leadership—are critical for success in college, career, and life. Strong schools build these skills into their curricula and create educational cultures and relationships that value more than just academics.”

As Mr. Daggett suggests, it is imperative for all teachers to embed the soft skills into their daily lesson planning. Creating lesson plans where the skills are rooted in prereading, during reading and after reading strategies is no longer just a good idea. Rather, helping students navigate confidently in the world has become essential.

Implementing “leadership” in a typical literacy lesson may seem like a daunting task, but by scaffolding the concept and using cross-curricular literacy strategies, students, who usually tend to compartmentalize their learning, will be able to transfer the concept of leadership and the reading strategies to other disciplines.

Begin with the end in mind: What is it that you want students to learn about leadership? What is it about leadership that is so vital, so critical, that you are going to create, develop, and implement an entire lesson plan around this single notion? We want our young people to lead by example and inspire others to have the courage to defend their convictions. So let’s end the lesson asking students to write a reflection based on one of these ideas: Explain what it means to lead by example and ask students to offer an illustration in their own life, or ask students to explain what it means to inspire others and to highlight a situation where they have offered hope, or ask students to show how one can illustrate the courage to defend their convictions in their school or in their neighborhood. Make leadership the goal, but use reading strategies to make it happen.

Scaffolding this conceptual lesson into prereading, during reading, and after reading strategies helps students stay focused and engaged. Leadership brings all sorts of discussion and personal reflections to the table; let’s get students motivated about the idea!

Prereading strategies

Begin with Janet Allen’s Wordstorming to Anticipate Content reading strategy. Allen’s alphabet grid validates what students already know about leadership. Using an interactive whiteboard, ask students to give you one word that defines a leader. As they offer their examples, write the words under the correct letter. By activating their prior knowledge of leadership, you will soon realize what your students think about leadership and what they understand leadership to be. In this way, you can determine where you need to start—either with a basic definition of leadership using rather pedestrian examples or more abstract analysis and synthesis.

During reading strategies

Now that you have an idea as to your students’ understanding regarding leadership, you can develop your next step. How about giving your students a reading choice? As examples, they could read a brief article about Will Allen of Growing Power and his desire to bring healthy food to those less fortunate, or they might read about Fr. Greg Boyle’s work with gangs on Homeboy Industries, or students might read about Diane Latiker and her work with homeless youth on Kids Off the Block. When you give students the opportunity to choose their reading (digital or print), engagement and motivation will follow. As students read, ask them to annotate, thereby initiating questions and comments from their reading.

After reading strategies

Once the reading is complete, encourage students to share what they have read. Embolden students to use their questions from their annotation as starting points for discussion. Now go back to the beginning. Give students class time to demonstrate their thoughts in a reflective paper—showcasing what they’ve learned about leadership and asking them for evidence based on the articles they’ve read. In that way, students have had the opportunity to relate this conceptual topic to their own lives and, more important, they have used research-based best practice strategies to learn about a theoretical subject.

So what is it about leadership that is so vital, so critical, that you are have created, developed, and implemented an entire lesson plan around this one concept? Students began with their own thoughts on leadership, thereby validating what they already knew and giving them a chance to listen and learn from their classmates. Next, they chose to read about other leaders by interacting with the text, asking questions and making personal connections. Finally, with time and support, students were able to take all of the information gathered and craft their own ideas and philosophies about leadership.

Next time, let’s not blame society for these transgressions; rather, let’s focus on our own classroom and offer opportunities to assist our students in developing manners to be lauded and respected.

Peg Grafwallner is an instructional coach with Milwaukee Public Schools.

He stood near my desk, clearly anxious, and waited for the classroom to empty. This is never a good sign. Seventh-grade boys do not stay after class. Worse, he was staring at my belly. Three weeks left until my maternity leave was scheduled to start, and I sensed this was going to be a disturbing and harrowing conversation.

“Mrs. Scullen, I need to tell you something. Privately.”

I braced myself. In middle school, I had to be prepared for anything. He looked deeply into my eyes and gave me a sympathetic head tilt.

“I need you to know, Mrs. Scullen, it’s going to hurt bad when that baby comes out. Really bad.”

I was able to keep a straight face, thank him, and let him know I would look into that. Relieved, he bounded out the door to lunch, his duty done.

This interaction was less horrifying than the one I had with an eighth-grade boy on the day I told my classes I was expecting. This young man snickered in the back of the room, gave me a thumbs up and a wink. Mortifying, and more than a little offensive.

As this was my third pregnancy as a middle school teacher, I was prepared for the interesting insights provided by my students. They were completely comfortable talking about any topic and rarely thought about boundaries.

Unfortunately, neither do their parents. For some reason, being a teacher suddenly opens a person up to all kinds of interactions addressing all sorts of personal topics. There are no boundaries.

I spent much of the last few days of what felt like my eleventh month of pregnancy lifting my belly out of the way so that I didn’t bump into desks or students in my crowded classroom. I had students’ complete attention—they stared at me with big eyes, I assumed they were worried I might burst.

I was prepared for the impending conference night—that most parents would be interested in the person hired to take over the class, how long I would be on leave, and how their child would do with the new teacher. These questions I was prepared to answer. Yet someone always manages to catch the teacher off guard. A lack of boundaries creates interesting conversation.

One mom asked if this was my first child.

“Oh, golly, no. My third, and the way I feel now, our last.”

Her next question still haunts me—“Really? Which one of you will get fixed?”

I must have mumbled some kind of response as she left the room, but I remember thinking, “Which one of us is broken?”

Another parent with boundary issues appeared in my room, took one look at me and announced, “Well! I can see why my son hates your class!” While I was trying to find my voice, she flounced to a student chair and said, “We’ve always taught our son that pregnant women are [tramps].” She used a more embarrassing word, but I do have boundaries, so I will let readers choose their own word. Apparently, this terminology was designed to keep her son away from romantic pursuits. I sometimes wonder exactly how that worked out.

As teachers, we expect our students to ask uncomfortable questions. It’s always a little awkward when the adults ask the distressing questions. But they do. Teachers are practically family, after all.

Middle schoolers are honest, open, and on the verge. They are on the verge of moving from preteen to teenager, busily connecting old thoughts to challenging new ones. Teachers don’t live at school! Teachers have babies! Teachers go to the gym and to the grocery store! Teachers are people!

In middle-school classrooms, boys who need to shave sit next to peers who regularly play with Barbies and Legos. Sometimes, those are even the same kid. I have to admit, though, for all of the embarrassment, these students without boundaries are my favorite students. Their questions make me smile and make me think.

Julie Scullen is a former president of the Minnesota Reading Association and Minnesota Secondary Reading Interest Council and is a current member of the International Literacy Association Board of Directors. She taught most of her career in Secondary Reading Intervention classrooms and now serves as Teaching and Learning Specialist for Secondary Reading in Anoka-Hennepin schools in Minnesota, working with teachers of all content areas to foster literacy achievement. She teaches graduate courses at Hamline University in St. Paul in literacy leadership and coaching, as well as reading assessment and evaluation.

When you’re a teacher, every minute of your day feels important. Because it is. Every. Single. Minute.

Often, many of these minutes are mandated. As in, how many minutes you must spend on reading instruction. How many minutes you must spend on writing instruction. How many minutes you must dedicate to character development or math or word study or science or social studies…or basically “insert anything here” and it is all urgent.

My personal tipping point was when I was told to find an additional 30 minutes twice a week to accommodate recorder lessons. Now, I am all for instrumental music but, one, the recorder sounds like a goose in the throes of death, and, two, those 60 extra minutes pushed my mandated minutes so far beyond the actual number of minutes I had with children that I could no longer stand the lack of common sense. I marched to my administrator and said, “I have 330 instructional minutes with students each week. You have now mandated 450 minutes of instruction.”

She replied, “Huh. That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Well, make it work.”

So, in the wise words of Tim Gunn and my former administrator, I made it work. I made it work by choosing priorities for my students’ ultimate success. (Sorry, recorder.) At the top of my list? Independent reading and writing time. Kids get to be better readers and writers by actually reading and writing, not by listening to a teacher talk about them. These independent work periods also allow teachers the time to meet with students one on one or in small groups to address more personalized learning needs and goals. And I’m not talking about reading a pre-determined passage or writing in response to a prompt. Those have their place, but, for me, reading authentic student-selected texts and writing open-ended pieces were the minutes that mattered most.

I began making these minutes a priority by keeping track of them over the course of the week. Every day for one week, I kept careful track of the number of minutes my students spent reading and writing authentically and independently. Then, I analyzed my data. (The Powers That Be just love that last sentence.) Was I happy with the number of minutes students were actually engaged as readers and writers? If not, where could I steal extra minutes? Could I tighten up my own instruction, get creative with time, or trim any fat?

Let’s not get it twisted—this sounds much easier than it actually was in practice. I had to be very honest with myself about time-wasters and make tough decisions. Yet in the end, I was able to specifically diagnose my own redundancy and see how I could contribute to a solution, rather than continuing to complain about the problem of time.

A recent article published in Education Week solidified my fear that I am not alone. Many classrooms struggle to “cram it all in” and, as a result, students are often left with very few minutes to fall into an authentic reading and writing life.

So, yes, every minute is important. And no, there aren’t enough of them in the day. And of course, this reality is super easy to complain about—and complain you should.

But maybe, in this new year of possibility, we can find some time to prioritize and be part of the solution, too.

Mrs. Mimi, aka Jennifer Scoggin, is a teacher who taught both first and second grades at a public elementary school in New York City. She's the author of Be Fabulous: The Reading Teacher's Guide to Reclaiming Your Happiness in the Classroom and It's Not All Flowers and Sausages: My Adventures in Second Grade, which sprung from her popular blog of the same name. Mimi also has her doctorate in education from Teachers College, Columbia University.

The printed word often is taken for granted. It’s everywhere you look—billboards, signs, our mobile devices. We rarely stop to think about its origin, that print once was a commodity, a symbol of privilege, holding a clear and authentic purpose: to communicate with one another over distance, over time, and across cultures.

The power of the printed word has become diluted through systematized and widespread dissemination of literacy in the Industrial Era, both in everyday life and in the classroom, dramatically changing the way children learned to read and write through phonics readers and handwriting books. It wasn’t long before these decontextualized and inauthentic forms of literacy were found virtually everywhere, used to teach children at large scale in the typical Industrial Era manner. In fact, using these resources, in addition to new at-scale resources such as basal reading sets and other prescriptive curricula, to scale effective literacy instruction to large groups of children is still commonplace in many classrooms today.

But what many have not realized is that literacy has lost a great deal of its authenticity by making it a decontextualized, rote chore, one with which many students comply but actually despise. I think there’s a relatively easy way to amend this through contextualized tasks that promote an authentic desire to communicate with one another—just as the printed word was originally intended.

As I began working with 4-, 5-, and 6-year-olds this year, my primary objective was to foster a love of writing. Our school was new, having just opened in Palo Alto, CA, filled with fresh, bright faces and budding friendships, immersed in a town waiting to be explored. A writing project seemed like the perfect way to do it.

We conducted a study of Palo Alto, where we walked the neighborhoods, took pictures, asked questions, and even built a small three-dimensional model of the city, all culminating with a writing project that documented our findings.

“We’re going to make a magazine,” I told my students, “so we can share with our families what we’ve learned about our new community!”

“I want to write about City Hall!” one student exclaimed, sending my students into a flurry of chatter. Soon enough, all of our tablets were out and my students were flipping through pictures from our community walk, writing and drawing about buildings and other places they saw.

Although the project managed to unite us as a class, it also made it incredibly easy for me, as the writing workshop facilitator, to personalize for content, learning process, and ability level. I worked with some students on paragraph structure, sentence ordering, and identifying independent clauses and with emergent writers on word building, letter formation, and fine motor skills.

By gaining the momentum for a love of writing in this first project, we were propelled into our next learning arc when we studied stories. We partnered with a local nonprofit preschool and wrote stories for preschoolers who didn’t have access to as many books as we do. My students’ eyes, ears, and brains lit up when I read the list of names of children they’d be writing for, once again igniting the need to write for a real audience—and for an authentic purpose—within them.

This may sound like a whole new way of planning writing, but getting started is quite simple.

Start with resources you know. Lucy Calkins’s Writing Workshop model is great for creating the structure for a real-world writing workshop. When I began teaching writing, I followed a curriculum and found that it gave me a framework for strong lesson structure and helped me plan with the end in mind while constantly assessing through conferring. With time, I slowly removed my own curricular scaffolding, and you can, too, as you become more fluent with planning and preparing real-world writing workshop lessons, unique to the environment around your classroom. These structures then support both you and your students, even in the face of new content and opportunities that can arise only out of real-world serendipity. It is through this serendipity that you can bring the outside world into your minilessons, and your minilessons into the outside world.

Somewhere, literacy lost its purpose in the classroom. Educators forgot that literacy not only is a means for greater opportunity down the road, but also has a greater social purpose: It allows us to connect with one another, to develop empathy with the outside world, and to make sure that each of our voices are heard. In this manner, serendipitous literacy is everywhere; you simply have to find the right serendipity.

Paul Emerich France, an ILA member since 2011, is a K–5 educator, National Board Certified teacher, reading specialist, and freelance writer. On his blog, InspirED, he writes stories from the classroom as well as commentaries on current policy and social justice education.

Mama’s Nightingale: A Story of Immigration and Separation. Edwidge Danticat. Ill. Leslie Staub. 2015. Penguin/Dial.

Ages 7­–18

Summary

Edwidge Danticat’s words and Leslie Staub’s vibrant images combine in Mama’s Nightingale: A Story of Immigration and Separation to tell the story of Saya, a young girl whose mother, a Haitian immigrant, has been imprisoned because she is undocumented. Saya’s father petitions the local mayor, congresswoman, and news outlets for support in bringing his wife home, to no avail. No one ever responds.

During this time of separation, Saya’s mother begins recording bedtime stories and mailing them to Saya to help maintain their connection. In particular, she tells a story about a nightingale who goes on a long journey to return home to her baby, paralleling her desire to return home to her own child. One day, as Saya watches her father write yet another letter on his wife’s behalf, she decides to write her own letter to share her story. Instead of the silence Saya’s father’s letters elicited, Saya receives a response almost immediately, first from one reporter, then another. Soon after, members of the community send their own letters and make calls advocating for Saya’s family. After only one week, Saya’s mother is brought before a judge who rules that she may go home to her family while she awaits her papers.

Cross-Curricular Connections

English/language arts, social studies/history

Ideas for Classroom Use

Analyze Nonprint Texts

The rich illustrations found in quality picture books offer opportunities for students to analyze nonprint texts. Students can examine the book’s illustrations, identifying elements that help to reveal character, underscore the author’s message, and symbolize big ideas and explaining how these elements help to convey the story. Students may also comment on visual motifs such as the key, the nightingale, and the rainbow.

Determine Theme and Write Thematic Statements

Picture books like this one are a great way to introduce students to the skills of identifying theme and writing thematic statements. Saya herself says, “It is our words that brought us together again.” How do the writer’s words help to convey her message?

Write to Persuade

Saya’s story demonstrates that every child has the power to make a difference. Individually, students can explore a cause meaningful to them, research the cause, and then write to a local leader advocating for their cause. Collectively, students might develop a campaign for a cause of their choosing.

Research the Effects of Immigration and Separation

The author herself grew up in a family that experienced separation caused by immigration, and the topic of immigration continues to be a part of national and international discussions. All students can learn more about the human side of immigration, and older students can examine the role immigration will play in the 2016 U.S. presidential election.

Additional Resources

U.S. Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) website has information about the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, including data on the number of people deported, detained, or both each year.

Edwidge Danticat’s “Stories of Haiti”TED Talk in which the author shares her wealth of knowledge about Haiti’s culture and people.

Laren Hammonds has been a classroom teacher since 2004, working with students in grades 7–12. She currently spends her workdays with eighth graders at Rock Quarry Middle School in Tuscaloosa, AL, and every other moment reading books and seeking out adventures with her preschool son Matthew and husband Erik. A two-time graduate of the University of Alabama, she holds a master’s degree in instructional technology and is currently pursuing National Board Certification. Her professional interests include the intersection of video games and literacy, cross-curricular collaboration in secondary schools, preservice teacher support, and the impact of classroom design on student learning. Find her on Twitter and Instagram.