Literacy Now

I am a lector at my church. Reading in front of the congregation is not a challenging task, but it is an intimidating one.

I enjoy reading to the parishioners, but as I read, I cannot help but count my errors. Recently, during the first of three readings, I made three errors: a mispronunciation, mistaking a for the, and omitting a word. Can you believe it? Right there, in front of 150 people, I made three errors.

I stood there, actually assessing myself at the lectern, and wondered if anyone even cared that I made errors. Did anyone laugh because they knew I made errors? Did anyone think I committed blasphemy by reading Bible passages incorrectly? Or, worse, did one of them feel the need to pull me aside to talk about my errors, maybe point out what I already knew, and remind me of what I already felt embarrassed about?

Whether in front of a class or with a teacher, the act of reading for others to hear can create a sense of insecurity in the student. I hear the student, the class hears the student, and the student hears himself or herself. Thus, oral reading creates self-consciousness because students are “forced” to recognize their reading by “seeing” themselves through a lens they may wish not to, unlike silent reading. Further, when readers are not provided feedback (what the reader does from his point of view or the teachers), they are likely to presume the worst about their reading.

So, of course, when I ask my students to read for me, they are reluctant. Those who struggle are shuttered by memories of bad oral reading, or those who struggle most are asked to read out loud, regularly. With each reading, a reader internalizes his or her ability to read. With little change from the previous reading assessment, negative internalizations can form.

Because I can’t do much to amend readers’ past (nor can the readers), the question then becomes, how can I help them develop resiliency?

I have yet to see a reader who doesn't display apprehension toward reading out loud. When I recognize this physical manifestation of self-consciousness, we talk first. I am more apt to encourage oral reading than demand it.

The first step I take to promote resiliency is to tell students I value their oral reading. By acknowledging the reader's feelings, we can change the vibe before the student reads out loud. I know that the reader is going to make errors. I tell each reader that mistakes are a part of reading. By informing my readers of their potential for mistakes, we can be aware in a positive and productive fashion. Together, we can improve the student's oral reading, in part with practice, but also by what we learn (i.e., multimorphemic words).

From time to time, I tell students stories about my reading, such as the story of reading in front of the congregation, thereby creating empathy. I tell them stories to loosen them up and help them realize that not a single living soul reads perfectly every time, creating compassion.

As the student and I establish trust in our reading relationship, we can make light of mistakes. Because mistakes are a natural part of reading aloud, students are more apt to correct miscues in the future if we can laugh it off. Sometimes we have to joke about how a word sounds. Again, only if we have a trusting relationship and if the reader knows I am listening rather than judging. By listening to and enjoying readers, we are able to help them forgive themselves for making reading errors. We further their resiliency by showing readers appropriate ways to “break apart” words, pronounce a word (albeit further follow-up instruction will be necessary), or apply “fix-up” and clarifying strategies.

Making mistakes, like stumbling over unfamiliar words, is a natural part of reading. No reader should be apprehensive of reading because he or she is afraid of getting words wrong. If readers become wary of reading unfamiliar words, why would they pursue reading? Can we encourage readers to embrace more challenging texts, such as high school textbooks, loaded with unfamiliar words, if we don't acknowledge that mistakes will be made? When readers gain comfort with the imperfections, they develop resiliency.

We will make mistakes. Just because I don't recognize ancient names from the Bible doesn't mean I will stop reading to the congregation. Nor should a student be reluctant to embrace a challenging text because he or she is afraid of not knowing the words. When we embrace and correct mistakes as part of our reading process, our confidence grows and our resilience becomes perseverance. As we know, part of learning to read is figuring out words we don't know.

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.

Stygles will present  “‘I Hate Reading!’ Strategies and Invitations to Reverse Negative Self-Perceptions Among Readers at the Elementary Level” Monday, July 11, 8:30–9:30 AM at the ILA 2016 Conference & Exhibits in Boston. Visit ilaconference.org for more information or to register.

Imagine 300+ families reading one book simultaneously.

At G. Stanley Hall Elementary School we accomplished this through a project called “One Book One School.” We know bringing families together through literature can be a strong bond to help connect parents to their children's schooling by a single book. We also know that many parents want to help at home. One of the best ways to help is by reading aloud. With One Book One School, our building came together to read one chapter book at the same time, usually over the course of a couple weeks. I had the chance to embark on the reading adventure with the book The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary.

A night assembly where parents were invited to school to learn about the journey and chance to enjoy a book with their children kick-started the experience. Each family received a copy of the book. Families who spoke Spanish as their first language received the Spanish version of the book. We gave them a schedule of when to read what chapter and showed them a website that was set up to accompany them. The website featured the schedule and videos of featured guest readers. We were off!

Each morning a question about the book blared from the speakers. Students were given strips of paper to record their response. I collected the responses as a class, and we discussed the question. Correct answers were brought to the office and entered into a drawing for a chance to win a prize, usually something sweet shaped into a mouse or a car. Students were buzzing each day for a chance to answer the question.

By sharing one book with students across all grades and their families, we shared the love of reading with our entire school, not just one class. Students enjoyed having a chance to share their thoughts about the book with their friends, and the event helped spark further interest in Beverly Clearly, as some students continued to check out her other books.

Other teachers were willing to help those students whose parents chose not to participate by allowing them to watch the readings of the chapters or reading the chapter aloud to their class. It was just another chance for teachers to share their love of reading. Also, teachers were able to hit those ever-important Standards while discussing the book.

Many families in our school do not have the money to buy books, and this event put a book in their hands. One Book One School is a start. For the school, the cost of the program starts with the book, but the only other expense would be for prizes; a website is certainly optional.

In the end, parents appreciated the support they found in One Book One School. Through the program, they found a new way to interact with their children by sharing parts of The Mouse and the Motorcycle they loved and discussing why the author may have chose to write the way she did. In the end, it felt like this successful journey came to an end too soon.

Garrett O’Dell is a fourth-grade teacher at G. Stanley Hall Elementary School in Nebraska.

Gosh, I love middle-schoolers. They are so. . .honest. Unquestionably honest.

Last month I asked our middle-school students some very informal questions about their classroom and out-of-school reading. These kiddos were enrolled in a full-year reading intervention course for students not yet reaching grade-level reading goals. We wanted to use their responses to plan and prepare for the coming year. The teachers and I braced ourselves for the answers these highly honest adolescents would provide. 

What I found out had me laughing—through tears.

Finding research to support increasing student achievement in literacy by encouraging independent reading is not difficult. We know choice is important, we know making reading social is crucial to today’s kids, and we know making reading meaningful and authentic is vital to keeping them engaged. Seeing that our students prove our theories and research to be true is always gratifying.

Our students advised us that the best place to find out about good books is to ask another student. Proof that for students, reading is social. They told us that they usually choose their next book on the basis of their favorite authors or the next book in a series. Unfortunately, “teacher suggestion” ranked almost equally with “chosen randomly from the shelf”. 

I asked, “How can your teachers make reading more interesting and fun in the classroom? How can they make it something you want to do?” Some of my favorite responses were the most honest. Note that I kept their initial spelling and grammar intact, as it adds to the authenticity. They are quite revealing. 

I don’t know, but the teachers could try and work some stuff into the lesson that kids like.  (If they only knew how hard we try to do just that!)

Just give me good book about fallen angels and stuff like that or a book that people die in.

Talk about sports. (This would create a very narrow curriculum, but we’ll consider it.)

Let you read whatever you won’t. (I’m pretty sure this youngster meant whatever you want.)

Don’t force a kid to read things they don’t want let them pick. (Also, don’t make them eat green vegetables or go to the dentist, right? But we get the point.)

Give us more books to choose from. (Oh, my! How many of your teachers frequent used bookstores, book clubs, and garage sales looking for new selections? If it were up to us, every classroom would have new books to choose on the shelves every week.)

There were many responses from students who wanted us to know they aspired to improve their world, and they wanted to read about genuine issues:

If we read an article have it be a powerful one that people should care about, and if it’s a normal book then books that get your attention right away. I want to read about something I really care about.

Many responses were reflective of current emphasis on testing:

Let us just read instead of analyzing paragraphs!

Actually let us independent read cause we don’t do that a lot

Let me read and let me injoy the book and NOT think about how I fell.  (This darling student likely meant, “think about how I FEEL”.  He has a few spelling needs.)

Then there were of course those few students who were hoping for sweeping change:

Don’t look to see if I’m really reading.

Give candy and don’t talk to us. Also, let us sit wherever we want.

These connections with kids prove to me yet again that our future generations are savvy, smart, and want to make our world a better place.

Overall, it should be noted I could easily separate their answers into categories.

1. Give us a choice.
2. Let us talk.
3. Don’t give us worksheets.

Your advice is noted, middle-schoolers. See you next fall!

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.

I remember when my journey began—when I started to fully understand the importance of literacy.

I am from the twin-island Republic of Trinidad and Tobago, and I attended an educational fair put on by our teachers union. There were many booths belonging to various educational organizations—one of which was the local reading association. I was given literature about the association, began attending meetings, and was encouraged to join. That was the start.

A part of these meetings is a short workshop on a literacy topic or skill. When members return from a conference, they share what workshops they attended and are always so enthusiastic. So I decided I should attend one.

Attending my first International Literacy Association (ILA) conference in 2009 in Minneapolis, MN, was like being in a place with everything one could wish for educationally, such as the General Session and Featured Speakers, the various workshops and sessions, and of course the Preconference Institutes. The Preconference Institutes, to me, set the tone for the whole conference.

When you make a decision to attend a particular institute, you consequently seek out other workshops to enhance and clarify what you learned there.

Attending the conference gives me an opportunity to acquire new methods, texts, and strategies for the teaching of literacy. The conference provides me with the tools and materials needed to motivate both struggling and strong readers. There are a wide variety of books and also a wide range of other technological tools you can use in the classroom from the simple to the more sophisticated.

That first year, I attended an institute on graphic novels. I had no idea of the approach the presenters would take and was completely surprised and energized to return home and incorporate graphic novels in my classroom. Every year there are new twists to genres, like Greek mythology, informational texts, and graphic novels.

The ILA conference is so full of important, motivating ideas that aid in improving the planning of my lessons. Today’s student is easily bored and distracted, and with the ideas, lesson plans, and suggested tools displayed, the teacher who attends the conference will always have interesting and motivating classes.

I am also exposed to the best names in literacy from all over the world, like Laura Robb and Patricia Edwards. I can buy books from literacy experts and hear speakers who have actually worked in the field of literacy. You are introduced to the many ways technology can be used in literacy and how to integrate the various subjects in literacy by using informational texts as reading material and by using students’ cultural backgrounds to encourage them to actively participate in the class. Using ideas obtained from the conference makes my classes more enthusiastic, and students are not shy to express themselves.

You attend one conference and, because of the enthusiasm shown by the various speakers, you want to try their ideas and return to share your success. The conference is interactive: You gain information; improve your skills, methods, and strategies; and, above all, you improve as a teacher. It gives you an opportunity to meet other teachers, share what works and what may not, and discuss differences and similarities.

This is what keeps me coming back to the conference every year.

The ILA 2016 Conference & Exhibits will be July 9–11 in Boston, MA, with more than 6,000 attendees eager to cultivate new teaching practices. With over 300 sessions, including several new additions to the schedule, and the popular Preconference Institutes on July 8, the weekend is sure to be a memorable one. Learn more about what’s coming up at this summer’s conference at ilaconference.org.

Marian A. Payne, an ILA member since 2003, teaches at Russell Latapy Secondary School. She is the treasurer of the Trinidad and Tobago Reading Association.

For a long time I didn't teach writing well. I'd stand and deliver, tell and demand, and then wonder why my students wrote little or seemed less than inspired to communicate a message. I'm not proud to admit this, but if we don't reflect on our past, we can't change our future.

Flashing back to my early teaching, I tried to consider what made writing hard to teach and why students didn't seem inspired. I had to realize I didn't connect with students because I wasn't writing. They had no mentor to connect with, no purpose to aspire to. My students received superficial instruction. Today, as I aspire to write, I try to provide authentic instruction to my writers.

Superficial instruction is communicating the content written on the page of a teaching manual. I consider this superficial, because I fall into a tell vs. show instructional style. For instance, transition lessons have caused me trouble. Our class may co-construct an anchor chart and list all the transitions, but that is only a list. Next, we can locate transitions used in an example and speculate why an author might have used the corresponding transition. Delving into text examples may be deeper thinking and more authentic than just listing transitions, but we're still missing something. My students still didn't see how the writer chose their transitions—that missing element in my instruction—how does an author choose to use transition in the moment?

Authentic instruction is my ability to show an actual reading process with live examples. When I consider live writing, I teach students with examples of writing that I am currently working on. My examples include blog posts, articles, chapters, or memoirs. I also incorporate live action writing (my writing process) across the writing workshop. I'll show writers my idea development and my live revisions which may include adjusting my writing according to feedback I have received or just revising sentences, word choice, and even relocating paragraphs as I feel fit.

Examples I show my students are not random; rather, they connect to current lessons. For example, I taught a lesson on text boxes. At the time, I was building an article that included text boxes. By showing my examples, I was able to provide rationales for the construction and selection of text boxes I devised which deepened the lesson.

Authenticity also means in-the-moment writing. In some cases, to model an authentic writing process, I'll draft a piece on the spot to show students how the act of writing looks. For instance, the memoirs I draft, fresh, original, and in front of the class, are about my childhood. I may not be working on a culminating project with my memoirs, but I am sure to tell my students these are memories I am collecting now, hopefully to use later. When I show my students chapters or articles, they learn what my writing purpose is and who my audience is. During our revision lessons, showing my work and my revisions demonstrate perseverance, the very trait so many writers struggle with. I will not write a piece I have no passion for, or an aimless piece, simply to satisfy the requirements of a lesson, because I don't want writers to feel like they have to create products contingent on the assignment.

Perhaps you’re wondering, Isn't your writing above the level of your students? Doesn't that set a bad example?

I hope my writing is above the levels of students (although I wonder sometimes). To be authentic, I have to write as myself. After all, the meaning of authenticity is being true to oneself. If I write at the level of my students (sixth graders), I run the risk of patronizing them. My writing, in turn, is an example to aspire to, not to replicate.

In no way can I ask students, who are 12 years old, to write like me. Students will ultimately assume inferiority, and many will quit. I will include sophisticated words, more complex sentences, and a wider array of transitions in my writing. The purpose of modeling is to provide students with ideas, options, and inspiration. If my students don't see writing they can attain, they won't know how to challenge themselves as writers. The idea is never to compare but to promote the quality of the writing. Quality takes time.

When I model my writing, even at my level, I am able to communicate the writing process. This is perhaps the most important aspect of authentic writing to my students who wonder about choosing transitions and sentence construction. All writers need to own a process, but first they have to see one in action. My life as a writer becomes a scaffold for students adopting their own purposeful writing life, a life of writing for themselves rather than for an assignment.

As my writing instruction evolves, I realize I may not teach writing perfectly, but I guide my writers better than I have before. By showing, I inspire. Telling, as in “Do as I say, not as I do,” is not only hypocritical, but a transfer of shame and inferiority. If I wanted my kids to write I had to show myself as a writer—my authenticity.

Justin Stygles is a sixth-grade teacher and literacy specialist in Western Maine. He has taught at a variety of levels for 12 years and is currently working with Corwin Literacy about effect, emotions, and transactional reading.