Literacy Now

This summer my great aunt told me, “I have a theory about how psychic energy flows between plants and people.” And over a beer this fall, a buddy laid out his theory on why his girlfriend broke up with him. Although these two said they had a theory, what they really had was a belief, confident thinking not necessarily supported by facts.

Big deal, you might say. What’s wrong with using theory when you mean belief? In late November, a friend, who is a literacy coach, told me she was struggling to reach a certain group of worksheet-loving teachers. “I tell them how important it is to have their kids read for extended amounts of time. But they just don’t believe that will make children become better readers.”

“How is that possible?” I exclaimed, jumping up and down and waving my arms. “The connection between reading amount and reading achievement isn’t something you choose to believe or not. It’s a fact!”

In science, a theory is not a belief. A description of what it actually is can be found in a New York Times article. In it, Kenneth R. Miller, a cell biologist at Brown University, says, “A theory is a system of explanations that ties together a whole bunch of facts. It not only explains those facts, but predicts what you ought to find from other observations and experiments.” In the same article, Peter Godfrey-Smith, author of Theory and Reality: An Introduction to the Philosophy of Science, suggests we think of theories as maps, “To say something is a map is not to say it’s a hunch. It’s an attempt to represent some territory.” 

I love this analogy: Facts are to a theory as features are to a map.  Likewise, a geography map is to a territory of earth as a theory map is to a territory of science. The best maps—derived from decades of observation, experimental confirmation, and replication—are highly descriptive and strongly predictive. Thus, they are tremendously useful. Well-established maps provide paths of action, enabling us to solve problems, alleviate suffering, and plan for the future.  Germ theory helps us to stay healthy, plate tectonic theory helps us plan for disasters, and climate change theory shows us how to fix the environmental mess we are creating.

We teachers are fortunate to have strongly predictive maps at our disposal. Reading is probably the most extensively studied subject in the field of education. The many facts that describe and demarcate its territory include the following: orthographic, syntactic, and semantic processing systems at work when we read; metacognition helps readers comprehend; fluency influences comprehension.

Likewise, we are blessed to have a map of instructional theory that is increasingly realized. We know, among other things, that instruction should be direct and explicit at times, that positive reinforcement molds behavior, and that providing feedback both during writing and reading and while commenting on behaviors leads to greater learning.

We are living in a time when policies and positions supported by facts are under siege. A countering move is to strongly and actively stand up for the well-established maps of reading theory and instruction theory.  And we must say that teachers have an ethical duty to follow them. When teachers follow the maps of reading and instruction, they always have an excellent chance of leading their students to the destinations of competent reading and writing. But when teachers dismiss the maps, they are wandering in the wilderness and so are their students.

Powered by talk radio, internet misinformation, and unfair and unbalanced news reporting, the trend of making decisions based on beliefs and feelings rather than facts has been gathering steam for more than two decades. Now it is common to see people calling the theory of anthropogenic climate change a hoax, saying the theory of evolution is just a secularist’s whimsical idea, and, in the case of the aforementioned teachers, treating the theory of reading as a notion that one is free to believe or not.

Rather than allowing folks to dismiss our maps, which we have gained through great effort and are of immense value, we should be standing up for them. My new reading coach pep talk is “Use the map! Use the map!” Using and promoting the maps of reading and instructional theory are actions counteracting a backward slide into a dark place, where personal beliefs trump scientific enlightenment and critical thinking.

Mark Weakland is an educator, consultant, and author of books for teachers and children, including Super Core! Turbocharging Your Basal Reading With More Reading, Writing, and Word Work.

Have you ever had a moment where you felt overwhelmed by professional reading? Or challenged by assigned reading for professional learning communities? Do you feel like the demands of the classroom can be so daunting that time to read about teaching is forsaken for other necessities like Individualized Education Program reports, grading, and meetings?

I know this might sound foreign in a world full of readers, but have you ever faced that moment where you just couldn't deal with professional reading anymore?

When I read professional texts, a sense of vigor, courageousness, and creativity emerges. I recall reading books like Beck, McKeown, and Kucan’s Bringing Words to Life, McGregor’s Comprehension Connections, and Fisher and Frey’s Text Complexity and then feeling like I could set my classroom on fire with invigorated instruction. I’d read The Reading Teacher and Reading Research Quarterly almost religiously. Ideas for my classroom would spawn in my head. I’d return to the classroom every day, with more excitement than the day before.

However, I can think of two periods of time when I embraced an extended pause in my professional reading. Over three years, I’ve taken a really hard look at the circumstances behind my choice to divest myself of professional reading and what I’ve needed to do to resurrect my passion.

Have you ever had one of those days where the stress and anxieties of the workplace, classroom, or meeting overpowered your ability to think? I’ve faced many of these days. Somehow, I associated a bad day in a meeting or the classroom as an indication of my teaching. Slowly as I deteriorated as a teacher, I found myself less and less willing to read, to invest in my profession. Thus, as I struggled to find myself as a teacher, I turned away from professional reading to avoid any further self-contempt spawned from my shortcoming. After all, authors are experts; I obviously was not.

After a low period when I did not fill my teacher soul with intellectual nourishment, I reflected on four key areas that aided a recovery of sorts and reignited my passion to read professional texts.

1. Voice. One of the most beautiful aspects of reading is the incarnation of an inner voice with the reader. If I am truly reading, I can feel a bubble of energy inside my abdomen that boils vigorously until the excitement manifests. The manifestation is voice: my thoughts, opinions, and feelings that come about because of the characters, the nature of writing and, of course, how I resonate with the text. I had to realize my best audience would be with students. I showed them what I read and why. Sure, professional texts are not as gripping to share with students as middle-grade novels, but the maturing readers see my reading life and the purpose of my reading in action.
2. Notebooks. Like many teachers, I maintain a writer’s notebook (sometimes several). Even if I feel my voice is muted, for whatever reasons, nothing stands between me and my notebook. As I translate my reading into practice, the notebook is where I store my ideas. My notebook allows me to take text from a professional book and create mind maps, idea webs, or scenarios that can play out in the classroom.
3. Topic of Emphasis. Probably the hardest part of teaching is attaining expertise. Merely selecting a topic or two of emphasis as a passion can be challenging—just look at the possibilities on an ILA conference proposal. I’ve found, however, that by choosing a topic of emphasis, I could guide my own learning. We all know there will be instructional mandates handed down by the state or district in which we work, but even those capacities cannot regulate what we know or our expertise. I may be mandated to teach a reading program, but I’ve found a passion for that teaching by studying the work P. David Pearson and Louise Rosenblatt and strategies from Franki Sibberson and Lori Oczkus.
4. Devotion. Self-discipline became essential to reestablishing my professional reading interest. I found reading overwhelming, which fueled the desire to stop reading. I established a limit: I would read a single journal article or chapter of a book each night. By defining the amount I read, I could spend time annotating and commenting on the literature, which then allowed me to plan implementation or develop my own ideas.

I am sure every teacher has faced a spell of turmoil in the classroom and reluctance when picking up or reading professional texts. Motivation to read can become stagnant. We can even question our values as teachers. Yet, even in those trying times, reaching out to explore may be just the spark we are looking for to create hope for a fresh start.

Justin Stygles is a fifth-grade teacher at Guy E. Rowe Elementary school in Norway, ME. He has taught for 13 years at the intermediate level and in various summer program settings. He is currently working on a book with Corwin Literacy about self-conscious emotions.

In considering ways to build children’s literacy through the home literacy environment and parent engagement, acknowledging that parents will have varying levels of literacy attainment and abilities is important. This acknowledgment is especially true for teachers working in classrooms with children representing diverse family backgrounds. Not assuming the literacy levels and engagement styles of parents is important.

There may be a difference between parents’ and children’s school experiences, where you may have parents with low literacy skills, extensive literacy skills, or limited literacy skills in the English language. Being aware of the possibility of the factors and, at the same time, considering that despite parents’ literacy abilities they may have goals for their children’s literacy beyond what they are able to do or beyond what they were able to experience is important.

Be mindful of having a deficit view of parents’ literacy and engagement. When someone has a deficit view, he or she may assume that something needs to be fixed or is lacking in certain families that represent a particular background. Therein lies the importance of being familial and culturally competent, understanding that there are different ways of knowing, and not automatically assuming that parents lack knowledge and skills that you must impart. Consider positive ways in which parents have already successfully educated their young children through different ways of knowing about the world and then consider ways to bridge these realities to what the child must learn in the classroom.

The three Cs

There are three essential ways to tend to the diverse literacy needs of young children representing diverse backgrounds. First, connect what is expected to be learned to everyday practice. Second, understand the context for the child’s home literacy environment and parent engagement. Third, transform or enhance the curriculum to meet the needs of diverse learners as necessary.

• Connect: Focus on students identifying literacy practices in the home and community—real literacy concerns in everyday life. Trying to encourage practices that may fit into a family’s routine, especially for those representing cultural and linguistic diversity, is important.

• Context: Foster understanding between home and school literacy experiences. Understanding wealth of knowledge parents provide to their children is important. Oftentimes, parent programs or engagement activities are created without an understanding of family background information.

• Curriculum: Literacy learning involves key concepts and processes that include concepts of print, phonemic awareness, and oral vocabulary. Recognize there will be a wide range of experiences. Work to imbed literacy practices of everyday life. One way this can be accomplished is by having students keep a journal of the routines that occur in the home and identify which of the practices may be considered language and literacy processes to build upon (e.g., parent told child a story, parent read a story, parent and child sang a song or recited something).

Recognizing that children benefit from diverse forms of literacy and funds of knowledge beyond the classroom is important. Schools and teachers often determine what counts as important knowledge and interactions as related to literacy. However, as you seek to engage families in children’s literacy learning, considering the dynamics and uses of literacy as it varies by family is beneficial. Your task is to draw more deeply on resources such as family funds of knowledge not only to strengthen your teaching but also benefit children’s literacy learning. Finally, as you go about your practice, consider the following questions:

• How do families perceive their contribution to their children’s literacy learning in the home?

• How are you engaging your families in their child’s literacy development?

• What impact does your teaching have on families’ engagement in their children’s literacy?

Considering these questions may hopefully guide you through the decision-making process for the most effective ways to teach literacy to young children, while promoting authentic connections, relevant contexts, and a dynamic curriculum.

Nicole A. Taylor

After 25 years in the education “business,” I’ve learned that visionaries are rare. I’ve also worked with resume-padders, limelight-grabbers, and narrow-minded ninnies. Some were more concerned about their own personal agenda than about personnel.

When you do find that visionary with whom you connect, it’s best to listen, learn, and trust as you absorb as much of their vision as you can. Visionaries look at the big picture and delegate ideas, suggestions, and concepts to the team. The strength of the vision should be in the trust that the work will be done. That trust becomes contagious as we all work together for the commonality of the vision.

Although we appreciate that our school has come a long way in creating a common belief system, we also realize it is just the beginning of our journey. To become the school we want to be, we need to ask ourselves, “Are we working for the covenant, or are we working for the contract?”

The covenant is the promise we make in our mission/vision statement to our colleagues, our parents, and our students that we will do what we say we are going to do and that we will be held accountable for the sake of the greater good.  We will support colleagues so they develop into knowledgeable and compassionate professional educators. We will respect and communicate with parents to form partnerships that are enduring and trustworthy. Finally, we will create authentic opportunities for learning that give our students the hope they deserve and the consideration they need. In short, the covenant keeps all of us working together to cultivate the best educational experience for our peers, our parents, and our students.

When the covenant becomes too demanding or when the vision has not been made clear to all stakeholders, it is inevitable that the contract will become the purpose. If teachers don’t envision themselves growing, if parents don’t value the relationships, and if students become disengaged, our practice suffers, our relationships deteriorate, and our children fail. It is that simple.

Standing up for the covenant begs the question, what do you stand for? When you are able to answer that confidently and with purpose, you are on your way to building a better school. Become a visionary who develops a confident team of teachers, a thankful legion of parents, and a considerate class of students.

Peg Grafwallner is an instructional coach with Milwaukee Public Schools.Learn more about Peg on her website.

I went to a small high school in a really small town. The kind of town with only one traffic light. It blinked yellow, as if there wasn’t enough traffic to warrant a red. “They’ll close the zoo if the duck dies.”

Really small.

At the beginning of my senior year, I was called to the school counselor’s office because I had indicated on a survey I was going to college. I expected to get a big cheer from the counselor—a pep talk and a list of steps to take in the coming months. I was in the top 10% of my class, enrolled in all the high school courses colleges required, active in school activities, involved in every school play, first chair flute, and a voracious reader.

Instead, he sat at his desk and gave me a sweet but patronizing smile.

“Now, Julianne, are you sure this is the right choice for you?  You know, very few girls make it through college.” After a few beats, he asked me if I had a backup plan. Silently, I shook my head. I didn’t. I couldn’t tell you one thing he said after that, but I know the meeting was short. 

My mind whirled. Did he know something I didn’t? Why was I not college material? The message I was getting at home was different—I was never asked if I was going to college, but where. I had never once entertained the idea of not going. He made me second-guess my goals, but only for a moment.

Thank goodness I didn’t second-guess for long, as there was a lot to do and no Internet to help. 

Supporting my own children through his process recently reminded me of that meeting and how different things are for high school students today. Our kids are surrounded by educational professionals willing to guide and support them, with so much information available it can be overwhelming.

Thirty years ago, there was no Google, and everything was done by mail with paper, envelopes, and stamps. And that was only if you were interested in the school. Can you imagine? 

There were no apps or websites for ACT or SAT preparation. We actually had to get practice tests from big, heavy books and then go back and score them on our own and find our own mistakes. 

College applications weren’t filled out using online forms; we had to type them. Using a typewriter.

If you weren’t prepared for college, there were no remedial courses to assist you. Intervention energy was concentrated on getting students a diploma, not prepping for college work.

Earning college credit during high school was new, and very few students were able to take advantage of it. High school students had to actually travel to the college or university to attend class.

I now have two children of my own in college. At their high school, no one fought about the best fertilizer for soybeans after school at the flagpole. In our community, we have many stoplights and more than one gas station and, thankfully, their college search was a completely different experience from my own.

When they began to plan for college, they had incredible amounts of information at the click of a mouse—campus choices, programs offered, applications, financial aid, scholarships, all within reach at home or at school. There were programs designed with algorithms to help them find the perfect campus, major, and career goals. 

Most important for my children and their classmates, no one ever told them their dreams weren’t possible. They were not asked if they had a back-up plan.

May we never decide for a student he or she isn’t worthy of college—or any career path—because of his or her gender, race, religion, or any other reason. May no student ever lack support in reaching his or her goals.

Julie Scullen is a former member of the ILA Board of Directors and also served as president of the Minnesota Reading Association and Minnesota Secondary Reading Interest Council. 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, disciplinary literacy, critical literacy, and reading assessment and evaluation.