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    • In Other Words

    Literacy and Social Action

    Gerald Dessus
     | Feb 11, 2020

    ILA 19 EQUITY SESSION

    I vividly remember reading The Bully (Townsend Press) in Mrs. Collier-Bacon’s seventh-grade language arts class at Wagner Middle School. As I often mention to my students, Paul Langan’s teen novel was the first time I felt reflected in literature. There was a character who looked like me and shared similar experiences in public education, and that windows and mirrors moment helped me fall in love with literature. After reading this text from the Bluford Series, I read every book I could get my hands on.

    At this point, I realized why I wanted to teach. For me, reading was an opportunity to experience life through the eyes of a character, allowing me to escape the reality of violence and poverty in my Philadelphia neighborhood. I began wondering how many lives I could change if I helped other black and brown students, specifically black boys, fall in love with literature.

    At the time, I never imagined that I would have the opportunity to join thousands of educators from all over the world at a convening designed not only to unpack new research to support literacy instruction, but also, and more important, to explore the intersections among social-emotional learning (SEL), equity, and literacy.

    Our work is interconnected

    At the International Literacy Association (ILA) 2019 Conference in New Orleans, LA, in October, I attended the General Session and other keynotes and was moved by the thought-provoking statements shared. Literacy advocate and educator Chad C. Everett asked us to consider how we align the words on a page of a book with words in our world. Nationally Distinguished Principal Hamish Brewer challenged us to think about our legacy: “When you give students the opportunity to read and write, you give them a chance to change the world.”

    Brewer’s statement was a recurring theme at ILA 2019. As educators, we understand now more than ever the deep connection between literacy and social action, which is why equity—including ensuring access to literature that provides windows and mirrors—is so important.

    Although I had my own presentation to prepare for, I made space to attend Friday’s Equity in Education Program—“The Intersection of Literacy, Equity, and Social-Emotional Learning”—where Pedro Noguera shared a sentiment that teachers have echoed for years: “If you only focus on tests, you’ll fail to provide kids with what they need.”

    Later, Justina Schlund from the Collaborative for Academic, Social and Emotional Learning asked educators who are doing the work of SEL to think about their purpose: “Are you doing SEL to produce calm and compliant students? Or do you engage in SEL work to produce active citizens who will be prepared to go out and positively impact society?”

    That question resonated with me because too often SEL becomes code for building stronger relationships with students in order to increase compliance, which undermines its essence and purpose.

    Later that day, I had the pleasure of sharing my work as a social justice teacher leader and curriculum writer alongside my fellow ILA 2019 30 Under 30 honorees. I met Matt Panozzo and heard how he uses literacy to teach middle school students about identity and empathy in Houston, TX. Patrick Burke discussed his work with teacher preparation programs in Ireland. I spoke at length with Nangamso Mtsatse about the work she is pioneering in South Africa around literacy instruction for elementary students in their native languages. And I was deeply moved by Shontoria Walker’s work with black boys in Texas. Through her research, she found that SEL does affect achievement. Sharing a platform with young educators who have a positive impact on communities around the world was an honor and a privilege.

    SEL is deeply embedded in literacy

    The next day, I joined Kimberly Eckert, Shawna Coppola, Tamera Slaughter, and Tiana Silvas for the Equity in Education Program event, “Integrating Social-Emotional Learning in the Literacy Classroom.” Eckert reflected on a field trip to a Louisiana prison with her students, where they explored the education system and how SEL permeated the classrooms. Slaughter reminded us that SEL begins with the teacher. We must do the work on ourselves first before we can support our students. Silvas shared powerful stories of her childhood and emphasized how critical providing students with space to share their stories is. And Coppola challenged us to meet students where they are. Storytelling and SEL can look different for all students.

    My time at ILA 2019 ended shortly thereafter, but not before I had the pleasure of joining six educators from different states for a collaborative session. We discussed the problems our school communities faced with implementing SEL and proposed solutions that would support our respective schools.

    From theory to practice

    ILA 2019 reminded me of the direct connection between literacy and social action, and that as educators, we must move with urgency to create academic and professional spaces that are diverse, equitable, and aligned to social action.

    When I returned to Philadelphia, I was hyperaware of just how important literacy was in my own school community. I connected with my grade team at The Philadelphia School and challenged them to think about how we can use narratives and discussions in our community meetings to emphasize themes of belonging, diversity, and empathy. We decided to move forward with a nine-session unit on identity development. We chose to push students to grapple with who they are, what experiences and thoughts influence the decisions they make, and the obligations to create inclusive and empathetic spaces within our school community.

    My experience challenged me to consider the deep value in creating spaces for educators and researchers to convene. The sessions we attend, the conversations and networking we engage in, and the partnerships we create in those spaces mean nothing if we fail to apply what we learn to how we practice.

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    • In Other Words
    • The Engaging Classroom

    My Journey Into TPACK for Personalized Professional Development

    By Charline Barnes Rowland
     | Aug 07, 2019

    Several years ago, I transitioned from being a teacher educator who prepares literacy professionals to a professional developer who designs, facilitates, and coordinates training for college faculty. While I worked with instructors from all disciplines in higher education, I am constantly being reminded that I myself need to continuously participate in ongoing professional learning. However, with an extremely busy work schedule, this year I decided to forgo conferences and instead embrace Standard 6 of ILA’s

    Standards for the Preparation of Literacy Professionals 2017—Professional Learning and Leadership—via a 14-week online graduate course.

    In a 2017 Literacy Daily post, education writer, editor, and literary host Willona Sloan writes about personalizing one’s professional development. She specifically mentions using digital tools and platforms that help literacy educators acquire skills and knowledge to tailor to their own and their school’s needs.

    Not only did this course fulfill my state teaching certification requirement, but also it exposed me to more online tools and strategies for preparing learners for present and future. The online graduate course used the D2L learning management system. The instructor hosted and recorded weekly, synchronous videoconference meetings with Zoom.

    The course was centered on the Technological Pedagogical Content Knowledge (TPACK) framework, which focuses on effective teaching with technology. This may involve application of specific technologies for subject matter learning. The use of digital tools and resources to support student learning was constantly highlighted throughout the course following International Society for Technology in Education standards. Throughout this course, the instructor, Professor Whitman, allowed us to provide kindergarten through adult technology tools through her SLAM (Sharing, Learning and Mentoring) table as noted below.

    slam-1

    However, rubrics were the main form of assessment for the assignments in this course.

    The instructor also required demonstration of content knowledge. As a specialized literacy professional, I used both ILA and the National Council of Teachers of English to showcase my literacy and language knowledge. For example, the Group Change Story assignment, “Suzy Sloth Makes a Breakthrough,” allowed me to collaborate with an elementary teacher to write a seven-slide story about a person’s change process while trying to integrate innovation. We selected Edpuzzle, an interactive video lesson site, as the innovation. The instructor provided the story template via Google Docs. As a result, I reconnected with digital storytelling tools such as LittleBirdTales for creating original art and voice recordings, Pixton for Schools for creating digital comics, and VoiceThread, an interactive audio narration that can be embedded in a site or blog.

    I experienced pedagogical knowledge trends by reviewing 16 Habits of Mind and nine elements of digital citizenship. With a growth mind-set, I created two projects that incorporated these two trends. My learning management system project, a self-paced module entitled “Diversity Practices in Online Courses,” is an example where college instructors identify and discuss issues related to inclusive teaching in higher education. The module consisted of creating a word cloud around the term diversity, completing a 3-2-1 self-reflection and an online quiz. I also created and facilitated an iMovie professional development session for K–12 teachers. Participants learn to incorporate the iMovie tool into lessons to plan, create, and assess short student videos. These pedagogical knowledge trends helped me to be a more reflective practitioner–scholar as I aligned learning objectives with educational outcomes to enhance critical and responsible ways in which instructors can work with learners in traditional and digital learning environments.

    My personalized TPACK journey concluded with relinking to innovation in education technology, to exploring digital tools and to strengthening my ability to coordinate digital professional learning experiences. Going on this path enabled me to contribute and advocate for interrelationship to content knowledge, teaching and learning practices, and professional learning communities. Through this journey, I enhanced my ability to create opportunities for teachers to collaborate, discuss, and apply what they learn in a variety of learning spaces. Why not try your own personalized professional development and see where it leads you in addressing the needs of your learners and colleagues?           
     
    I am grateful to Professor Melissa Whitman, Technology Integration Specialist, in the Nazareth Area (Pennsylvania) School District, for expanding my online teaching tool kit through her course.

    Charline Barnes Rowland is a teaching and learning consultant for the University Center for Teaching and Learning at the University of Pittsburgh. She is a former university faculty member, public school classroom teacher, and reading specialist, and member of the Board of Directors of ILA (formerly International Reading Association). She received her EdD in curriculum and instruction from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University (Virginia Tech), a master’s degree in reading education from George Washington University, and a bachelor’s degree in English education and psychology from Syracuse University.

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    • In Other Words
    • The Engaging Classroom

    Incarceration of Shame for Young Readers

    By Justin Stygles
     | May 30, 2019
    armingteachers1

    Have you ever felt anger because you had to take responsibility for something you couldn’t control?

    Time to read independently is not always a guarantee for a maturing reader. Yet the reader can be subject to the consequences of being denied such an opportunity.

    A student might develop shame after repeatedly admitting he didn’t read at home—but perhaps not admitting he didn’t read due to challenges or circumstances he couldn’t control. The student’s sense of self, his feelings about himself as a reader, his life circumstances, and the teacher’s reaction to the transgression are all factors that determine the extent of shame he feels.

    Let’s consider possible responses to the reader who continually errs in his responsibilities.

    • Is our response to the student one of forgiveness? Or do we punish (detention, loss of recess, etc.)?
    • Do we leave room for the student to explain his circumstances or feelings? Or is our expectation final?
    • Do we believe the student is capable of changing his ways? Or is the student “like the rest of his family?”
    • What supports can we offer? Or do we leave the student to work through these challenges alone?
    • Do our responses leave open the possibility for future success? Or do we leave the reader feeling responsible for an existence he hardly has any control over?

    Consider the different responses I have given students in the past:

    “Ok. What happened last night? Can you try again tonight?”

    "You didn’t read again? How is this going to look on your report card?”

    The latter creates shame. My reply stifled the student and left him no recourse. If you’re like me, this was an automatic response intended to impose healthy shame by “righting” the reader. Instead, I inflicted negative shame. The terseness of “You didn’t read again?” implies personal failure on the reader’s behalf. I held little value for the reader’s circumstances outside of the classroom, alienating his being. Further, I transferred my shame about my failure to inspire reading by holding him accountable to my pedagogy.

    Before any reader is “corrected,” we need to consider the following:

    • Does the student have a safe place to read? 
    • Is the student ridiculed at home for reading?
    • Is the student unable to read and comprehend the book without help?
    • Are the student’s parents illiterate, nonnative English speakers, or struggling readers who cannot offer any support?
    • What else might be going on?

    There seems to be growing rhetoric suggesting that students need to be given time to read in school because they aren’t likely reading at home. In the rural communities where I’ve taught, I know this to be quite true. However, I have also realized that many students do not read at home because they genuinely do not know how. The expectation from parents and teachers is to simply read at home. With such a broad expectation, there is no doubt a broad range of interactions that can constitute reading, not all of which involve meaningful, personal interaction between the reader and the written word.

    Our endeavor to teach students reading should never be about punishment or consequences. Blame creates shame, which later induces reluctance and even resistance. Learning to read, I have found, is a gift, and also a responsibility, from teacher to students. As a parent once told me, “I send my son to you because you can teach him things I cannot.” In many cases, the “cannot” includes not only fluency and decoding but also the circumstances that permit successful reading. Perhaps a student cannot read successfully outside of school. Should that be the case, I have the distinction or honor of creating time before, during, or after school to make reading possible. In turn, I help students become shame-resistant readers.

    Justin Stygles, an ILA member since 2008, is a fifth-grade teacher in Wiscasset, ME. He's taught for 15 years in various settings. You can follow him on Twitter @justinstygles.

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    • 21st Century Skills
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    • Digital Literacy
    • The Engaging Classroom
    • In Other Words

    When We Teach Programming Languages as Literacy

    By Ziva R. Hassenfeld and Marina Umaschi Bers
     | May 16, 2019
    kibo-1

    Sarah sits with a small class of 4- and 5-year-old students. She is teaching students to use a KIBO robotics kit, which uses a tangible programming language for children made of wooden blocks. At the heart of her lesson is a maze task. There is a start spot and end spot demarcated on the carpet. First, to get comfortable with the idea of commands, the students play a game called “Program the Teacher.” Sarah invites students to get her through the maze using the KIBO language. KIBO can step forward and backward, turn, shake, spin, beep, and sing (KIBO plays a short melody). The students jump right in:

    “Sing!”
    “Beep!”
    “Shake!”
    “Spin!”

    Reluctantly, Sarah obliges, but probes the students: “Is this going to get me where we want me to go?”

    “No,” they reply, “but it’s fun.” The students are clearly excited by the KIBO programming language, they just don’t care that much about the maze.

    “OK. Straight,” they oblige.

     Sarah immediately shows excitement. “How many steps?” she asks.

    “Three,” they answer. “OK, now sing again!”

    The activity continues until, through a series of probes and pushes, Sarah gets the students to tell her to walk straight and then turn so that she can get through the maze.

    kibo-2Next, they try to get an actual KIBO through the maze. It doesn’t go much better. They want KIBO to sing and beep and shake and spin. Sarah gently asks them whether their program will get KIBO from the start spot to the end spot. But they’re too busy experimenting with KIBO, the performer, to worry about the task Sarah has assigned them. At one point, they make KIBO lurch around the room spinning and they run in circles squealing, “It’s eating my feet! It’s eating my feet!” Sarah tries one more time: “But, tell me, how can I get KIBO to the end spot?” With utter sincerity, one student answers, “You could pick him up and move him.” Sarah calls a snack break.

    There was no problem with KIBO. In fact, the students loved playing with KIBO. They quickly mastered the idea of using commands to make KIBO follow their instructions. They just didn’t care about the maze task.

    Literacy educators have long known that students are far more likely to take on a cognitive challenge when they care about the task assigned. The anecdote above sheds light on what kinds of activities teachers should design to teach young children programming languages.

    Learning programming languages is like learning to read and write a new language. Experts in literacy stress that students can only learn to read and write when teachers give them activities that leave room for their own self-expression. In a 2007 Research in the Teaching of English article, literacy scholar Maren Aukerman explains, “When reading instruction principally focuses on a teacher’s interpretation and interpretive techniques, we misrepresent to children what reading actually is.” When literacy instruction focuses solely on phonics, or the transmission of authoritative interpretations, reading in schools becomes cut off from the reading children do outside of school. Outside of school, children (and adults) read and interpret as part of the natural activity of sense-making. Inside of school, it’s easy to lose this most basic purpose for reading and writing. At the heart of the balanced literacy approach is the understanding that students learn literacy better when it’s taught through tasks that matter to them (i.e., tasks that make room for their self-expression and sense-making).

    The students in this anecdote were not interested in the maze task their teacher assigned. As such, they could not get into the cognitive work it required. The task wasn’t guided by their own questions or curiosities. I can’t help but wonder how the outcomes would have differed had they been allowed to explore KIBO’s performance capabilities. Imagine if they had gone through the process of developing a performance for KIBO, writing the program for that performance, and reflecting on how their written program did and did not realize their vision. Instead, their interests were continually thwarted in service of the task at hand—a task that didn’t hold the students’ engagement.

    In the November/December 2018 issue of Literacy Today, educator Chris Panell wrote, “Those who are digitally literate in the future will be those who can read not only the surface of the text, but also the programming that makes it appear as it does.” Panell is correct in connecting the two. We would go one step further and connect how we teach students to read both “the surface of the text” and “the programming that makes it appear.” Educators must think about the teaching of programming languages like we think about the teaching of literacy and natural language, emphasizing student meaning-making, imagination, and creativity.

    It’s much easier to ask students to write a program that moves a robot from a start spot to an end spot than it is to allow them open exploration of this block programming language. However, the nascent field of early childhood programming education need not repeat the mistakes of the past. It must take as its starting place the hard-learned lessons from literacy education: Students learn more when the task matters to them.

    Ziva R. Hassenfeld, an ILA member since 2016, earned her doctorate in curriculum and teacher education from Stanford University in 2016. She is currently a middle school teacher in the Boston area and a post-doctoral fellow at the Dev Tech Research Group of Tufts University and at Brandeis University. Her research focuses on the tools and reading strategies young children employ when reading texts, as well as the pedagogies teachers use to support student textual interpretation, fluency, and comprehension.

    Marina Umaschi Bers 
    is professor and chair at the Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development and an adjunct professor in the Computer Science Department at Tufts University. She heads the interdisciplinary Developmental Technologies research group. Her research involves the design and study of innovative learning technologies to promote children’s positive development. She also developed and serves as director of the graduate certificate program on Early Childhood Technology at Tufts University.

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    • The Engaging Classroom
    • In Other Words
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    What’s in a Name

    By Justin Stygles
     | Apr 24, 2019
    pulling-instructional-model

    My students are not a fan of my name. Throughout the year, I find a number of variations to my last name in writing and speech. I own it. Stygles, as in /Sty/ /guls/, is not an easy name to say or read. Ask Alexa. She’ll get my name wrong too! I have one of those great names that has a single vowel. Even then, the /e/ is relatively silent and the “y” functions as an /i/.

    Nonetheless, I expect my students to learn my name in spelling and pronunciation. Maybe I seem “mean” because I won’t let kids call me Mr. S., but I believe teachers who abbreviate their names by reducing long names or complicated pronunciations to the initial consonant or initial vowel sound are denying students exposure to unique oral language. We are a country constructed with Spanish, Arabic, Pacific Islander, Polish, and Russian surnames, among hundreds of others. Learning the sounds of these unique surnames provides decoding insight into the English language and many others we can experience or learn.

    Students who are raised in culturally homogenous communities tend have limited exposure to first and last names from various origins. Growing up in a military family provided me the opportunity to learn correct pronunciation of African American and Latinx names, much of which has carried over into my career as a teacher in terms of oral readings, pronouncing names, and helping students clarify the names of characters from various cultural backgrounds.

    While teaching in rural, relatively isolated schools, I’ve realized exposure to and interaction with diverse languages, other than localized lexicons, is limited. Students in these districts have fewer opportunities to practice phonetics such as letter sounds and spelling patterns.

    For example, having known an Eoin, I understood how to pronounce the Irish name, “Owen.” I have seen students and teachers trip over this name in reading. I happened to “know” the pronunciation from my interest in horse racing. Otherwise, I’m sure I would have pronounced Eoin incorrectly. Likewise, learning -guez or -eaux, of Spanish and French origin, through experiences in foreign language acquisition, and the racetrack, supported my ability to read and say people’s names correctly, thus respectfully. Had somebody allowed me, or a student of mine, to say, “Mr. D.” instead of Dominguez, a learning experience would be lost.

    As school districts become increasingly diverse, I think we have a responsibility as teachers to learn and impart the proper pronunciation of names, even if we must ask the student—an opportunity to foster the student’s sense of belonging and show you value his or her culture and identity. Furthermore, if we intend to teach our students appropriate letter–sound correspondence, syllables, and morphemes, we can start by modeling how to correctly pronounce names, or, again, the courage to ask when uniqueness appears. In doing so, you demonstrate that you too are a lifelong learner who is not afraid to admit a mistake.

    Although my name isn’t pleasant, there are some pronunciation rules that can be transferred to other words. There as so many other names out there that create special learning circumstances. So why abbreviate a 13-letter or a four-syllable last name to a single consonant sound? Children who are learning to pronounce sounds will benefit from practice and error more than denying an experience entirely. I feel teaching students to say the full name of their classmates and teachers is a critical exercise in language development.

    Justin Stygles is a fifth-grade teacher in Wiscasset, Maine. He's taught for 15 years in various settings. You can follow him on Twitter at @justinstygles.

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