Literacy Now

Want to stop a room in its tracks?

When the conversation slows, say this: “When I was in middle school, I read one entire wall of our library. The fiction wall. A to Z.”

Mouths will drop open. Faces will register both suspicion and respectful awe. Skeptical voices will ask, “But how big was the library?”

I always think, “Does it matter?”

There were eight fiction bookcases, floor to ceiling. I remember the exact position of the green bindings of the Nancy Drew books—about halfway across the wall, filling the bottom three shelves. Beverly Cleary’s books were near the door; one entire shelf was devoted to her work, and sometimes it spilled over onto the next. I remember convincing our librarian that I needed to check out more than my allotted three books at a time on the weekends. (She agreed to bend the rules.)

I brought a book with me everywhere. Family gatherings, car rides, dinners out. My parents were alternately annoyed and proud.

Yet, inexplicably, when my seventh-grade English teacher asked us to write a book report each quarter, I was annoyed. One lousy book report? Only one? My biggest problem was how to choose my favorite. It was like trying to choose between my children. How could I possible pick just one?

So, unable to choose, I did what I knew was the right thing to do. I invented a book. I wrote two pages in response to my imaginary book, front and back, entirely in the required and proper format. Title. Author. Plot summary. Main character descriptions. Theme.

When the day came to turn them in, I passed my work—neatly stapled, with the fuzzy notebook edges cut off —forward in the stack with the others. I held my breath.

Then I waited.

I dreamed of two scenarios:

One, the teacher wouldn’t notice at all, proving I was a genius at writing fiction. She would ask me to bring her this book so she could read it herself, without even knowing she had been duped. When I explained, she would gasp, clutch her heart and tell me I needed to write this book. I owed it to readers everywhere.

Two, she would immediately recognize the book as a fake, but encourage me to take my place among the great fiction writers of the day. Surely this book, once finished, belonged on the shelf next to Blume and Cleary.

Ah, but my work went unnoticed. I’m sure it was placed in the “completed and formatted correctly” pile, graded accordingly, and passed back with a scratch-and-sniff sticker attached.

Meanwhile, we completed grammar workbook pages and diagrammed sentences. We memorized the list of prepositions.

But never once did we talk in class about what we read. Reading was a quiet, isolated activity.

That was then, this is now. (Yes, that reference is intentional.)

I’m so thankful that my own middle-schooler now lives in the world of real reading. The authentic reading world we learn of from the likes of Donalyn Miller, Kelly Gallagher, Doug Fisher, and Teri Lesesne. Talking about what we read is expected, especially during class. Nonfiction reading is encouraged and celebrated. Reading is meant to inspire. 

Although my students and my own children may not ever read an entire wall of a library, I know they read widely and voraciously. They compare and contrast book characters and genres. They debate authors’ plot choices.

Authors have become their heroes—and rightly so.

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 have long been a lover of children's books, particularly picture books. A wise man, Mr. Mimi, learned quickly that I cannot be trusted with a debit card and long stretches of free time in Barnes & Noble. I am not alone. One of my favorite things to bring when I visit schools is a new and exciting title. If I have come to understand anything about teachers in my role as a literacy consultant, it is that all teachers love new books. (I have found that teachers' love of new books is second only to their love of fantastic pens and book lists. These are primary reasons why I am proud to call myself a teacher.)

I thought I had reached the peak of my love for picture books—and then. Oh, and then! I was asked to write a unit of study focused on the reading of wordless texts or texts whose stories are told primarily through pictures. Friends, I kid you not when I say I fell harder and more in love with picture books over those few weeks. Not only are they beautiful, but also their rich images (with or without words to accompany them) allow an even broader range of students to engage with and access text. Even as I type those words, I know they don’t make sense logically on the page, but they came to life for me when I shared a few pages of Kate DiCamillo's Flora and Ulysses: The Illuminated Adventures, a graphic novel, with a group of third graders. For many, the text was quantitatively too difficult. However, as we dug into the images on the page, these kids blew my mind with their insights into the story. And it wasn't just the ideas they shared, it was the confidence with which they shared them that truly took me by surprise.

There are a number of books that I hold dear to my heart and that I want to share with children. They include titles that make me laugh, make me think, or just make me happy. If I'm honest, most, if not all, of these stories are told primarily through words. Many could be considered traditional in their format. These books represent what I love, but not what every student loves. Perhaps graphic novels get some students excited about reading, for others it is biography, and others still prefer informational articles.

I spend a lot of time talking with teachers. I also spend a lot of time listening to teachers. Frequently, I hear the same titles mentioned over and over. I hear the same conversation pooh-poohing trendy humorous series and condemning graphic novels as "frivolous." I am not here to slam teachers. I am here to gently nudge you outside of your comfort zone and to suggest that maybe, just maybe, we should focus more on what makes students excited to read instead of what we think they should be reading.

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.

As teachers, if we can motivate our students to read, we have won half the battle. If we can turn them into lifelong readers, victory is ours! In the arena of motivating readers, comic books have a noticeable advantage over other forms of text.

Comic books as motivators

Kids find comic books interesting. For starters, the visual appeal grabs the attention of young readers. Enticing covers plastered with colorful artwork are enough to make anyone look twice. Then there are the characters. Most students are very familiar with the characters whose faces are depicted on the covers of comic books. Students already have connections to these characters and storylines through televisions shows, movies, and video games. Why not meet children where they are? If we want them to fall in love with reading, we need to start with what is familiar to them and build upon it.

Comic books for budding readers

Emerging readers are intimidated by a great deal of text. The task of reading a chapter book can seem too daunting for their consideration. Comic books, on the other hand, do not pose such a threat. The pages of a comic book are peppered with small chunks of text. Comic books serve as great stepping-stones to longer, more complex texts. In a comic book, readers are provided with details without the use of a lot of words.

Comic books as a comprehension aid

Comic book illustrations are not only motivating to the reluctant reader, but also instrumental in promoting comprehension. The sequential artwork is helpful for readers and nonreaders alike. I have used comic strips when teaching sequencing by cutting apart the panels and asking students to arrange them in sequential order. This is a fun activity for students, and it requires several high-level thinking skills. In a comic book, the illustrations are just as important to comprehension as the words. Students must use the details in the text and illustrations to arrange the comic panels in sequence.

When reading a comic book, students must read between the lines. This is a wonderful manner in which to teach students to draw inferences and synthesize information. Inferencing can be an abstract skill for young students. Comic books can give meaning to the use of this cognitive strategy. When students understand the purpose behind a strategy, they have more motivation to use the strategy independently in a variety of text situations. 

Comic books require readers to visualize. The action-packed writing styles of many comic writers cause readers to create vivid story-pictures in their mind. Class discussions about the art of visualization may stem from comic book text. Comic books cause readers to visualize without realizing they are using a cognitive strategy.

When reading a comic book, students must interact with both text and images, and they do so out of authentic interest in the text, not because the teacher is necessitating the process. This application of cognitive strategies is true reading. Students are self-motivated to comprehend text.

Comic books as a writing aid

Comic books contain basic story elements such as setting, characters, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution. Each panel in comic book writing represents a paragraph. Narrative sentences are representative of topic sentences. The details appear in both the words of the characters and the pictures. Students may use these guidelines to create comic panels of their own. With the addition of details, these panels may be turned into detailed narrative paragraphs.

Why not use comic books to teach students how to use quotations marks? Each speech bubble represents a character’s dialogue, so students can be taught to use quotation marks correctly by rewriting the dialogue in story format. That beats a worksheet any day of the week!

Comic books and content area reading

A variety of comic books is now readily available. Comics are not limited to the traditional superhero characters that generally come to mind. Many classics have been rewritten in a comic book format. Several authors have taken historical and other content-rich information and reworked it into a comic book format that is as instructionally sound as it is appealing to children.

Comic books and vocabulary

Members of the general public do not consider comic books to be tools for vocabulary development. I beg to differ. My husband has a working vocabulary that has always amazed me. When I encounter a new word, I most assuredly can turn to him for a definition. What’s his secret? He attributes his expansive vocabulary to comic books. He grew up on them! Comic books offer vocabulary instruction in a high-interest context. Students learn new terms through word usage in addition to illustrative support.

Comic books may be the underdog of the literacy world, but a lot of instructional value can be gleaned from these short, powerful texts. The motivational quality of comic books constitutes an enticing appeal to reluctant readers that may serve to hook them on reading. If we can get students to read and enjoy reading, strategy instruction will become both meaningful and effective.

Melissa Barbee is a new ILA member, having joined in the spring of 2015. She has 17 years of classroom experience. She has taught at Piedmont Elementary School in Dandridge, TN, for the entire stint of her career, and she has experience in both first and third grades. She is currently a doctoral student at Carson-Newman University pursuing a degree in Curriculum and Instruction Leadership.

A teacher—particularly one in early education—is teaching more than reading, writing, arithmetic. We know it is simply human nature that we are born selfish, self-centered, and egocentric individuals, and it is a teacher’s job to gently guide students from believing that they are the center of all things and to put others’ interests before their own.

One might think that all a teacher has to do is get the students to say please, thank you, and excuse me, and they will be on their way to becoming model citizens. One would be wrong. It goes far deeper than parroting those simple, yet magical, words. Having a genuine feeling of concern for another’s well-being is at the heart of having manners. To be caring, loving, and kind individuals for society’s benefit as well as their own. One has to care about what other people think and feel. This requires building a caring classroom community.

Putting another’s interests before one’s own, sharing, and waiting one’s turn is extremely hard for most pre-K students. Children need to see a purpose or reason to do these unnatural acts of kindness. This can and must be taught in pre-K, as it lays the foundation for all subsequent grades that follow.

Model good manners

As a pre-K teacher, I model respect for others. On the first day and every day through to the end of the year, I use please, thank you, and excuse me when talking to my students. I tell them when you say these words, you are using good manners and showing others that they are important to you. When I speak to my aide, I always say “yes ma’am” or “no ma’am” because it shows I have respect for her, and I make note of that for my class. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of modeling good manners for students every second of every day. Students imitate what they see, and this is how they make the learning their own.

Manners matter in Room 2

Because my students and I have discussed the magic words from the first day of school, I can show them how important using good manners really is in our room. Every time I hear polite words or see kind deeds, that student places a pom-pom in a cup—The Kindness Cup. The small, soft balls can be found at any craft store in sizes from very small up to three inches across. We refer to the pom-poms as our “warm fuzzies” because of how good it feels inside to do something nice for a friend. The best part is that when the cup has 10 warm fuzzies, the whole class wins a sticker. The children love being the ones responsible for earning rewards for their friends. I usually read the picture book Warm Fuzzies by Cathie Brown when I introduce the idea, and then we make a warm fuzzy to give to someone we care about.

Maria and Tito

The first week of school, Maria and Tito visit our room. Maria is my look-alike puppet, and I tell the students she is my sister, but she doesn’t know she is a sock. Tito is her best friend and cousin. The puppets interact with funny skits about rules, being nice, and what it takes to be a good friend. Maria often uses catchphrases the children can remember and use themselves, including, “I’m always happy to help,” “It feels so nice to be nice,” and “When a friend is in need, be a friend indeed.” At the end of the minilesson, I encourage the students to ask Maria and Tito questions, which opens up a discussion.

The red paper heart

At the beginning of the year, I cut a large red heart out of construction paper. I tell students it is my heart and that when they are kind to one another and listen to me, my heart is so happy it dances. But when they say unkind things to each other, it hurts my heart and it tears a little (I tear the paper). I go on, explaining that mean words said in anger to a friend crushes my heart—“Words hurt!” (I crumple the paper). Then I try to smooth it out. I ask the students, “Can those words be unsaid? Can this paper ever be the same?” After that, I cut the heart in two and I give each student a colored bandage to help put the heart back together. I tell them you can use words to help your friends feel better, but when you do, say “I’m sorry” and really mean it. I tell students to be careful of the words they use when speaking to friends. I refer to the heart often throughout the year.

Any part of character education must include teaching students self-control. Stating expectations from the first day of school is imperative for my students to be successful. I avoid any frustration on my part, or for my students, when I show them what they need to do for each activity of the day. Immediately before we go to centers or sit on the carpet, I go over what is expected of students. I simply say that this is what successful students do to learn. My aide and I then proceed to model polite talk and good manners in a funny skit in front of the class. Before talking about rules, I always read No, David! and David Goes to School by David Shannon.

Parent communication

Bringing the parents on board to help reinforce what the students learn at school is essential for success. Parents need to see why character education is important. Many parents tell me their children don’t listen to them at home, and the children do whatever they want. Reinforcing my lessons with their child at home will benefit both the parent and child. To stress how important this is to me, I use a section in my weekly newsletter to state what we are working on, with a note to parents: “Please help at home.”

In my pre-K class, I want children to go beyond just saying polite words. I want them to sincerely mean them. Basically, I am teaching each student to be a good person, I hope these strategies help you do the same.

Mary Van Bibber is a pre-K teacher at Heritage Elementary School in San Antonio, TX.

Few books affect my professional life, but Out of My Mind, by Sharon M. Draper, changed my thoughts on inclusive reading and teaching. In the story, Melody is a wheelchair-bound student frustrated by her inability to express herself. When the “world” discovers what Melody is thinking, through an electronic device, the “world” changes. Draper tells the story from Melody’s point of view, challenging (or reminding) every reader to look at life through a different lens.

I did, as did a paraprofessional I work with, Nicole, after she read the book. Nicole works in our school’s version of room “H5.” She worked in my class supporting a student with autism in the afternoon. During the morning, Nicole worked with Diane in H5, also wheelchair-bound, and with no speaking capacity. She’s a fifth grader by age but a preschooler in size. She communicates through a few hand gestures to signal emotions, such as “I’m happy” or “That’s funny,” when not sticking her tongue out at people or untying shoes for attention.

Once, on my regular visits to H5, I noticed Diane sitting on the floor, part of her physical therapy routine. I wondered, If she has to sit up for physical therapy, why couldn’t she sit with our class during a read-aloud so she could have, at least, exposure to reading and interaction with mainstream peers?

Nicole and I put our heads together about what prevents Diane from listening to and thinking about a story. After a discussion with our H5 staff, Nicole began bringing Diane into class for read-alouds, a modest inclusionary step.

When Diane began reading with us, she remained in her wheelchair, which we thought would be inconspicuous. Diane proved us wrong, immediately! Right in the middle of a humorous part, some of the kids giggled, but Diane broke out in a deep laugh. Perhaps she laughed because of the content, perhaps she laughed at the way I read. Neither Nicole, nor me, nor the class, realized she had the capacity to show such expression, let alone over reading a book! (At the time, we were reading Rump by Liesl Shurtliff.) We were awestruck. Reading and listening had that much power? As Diane enjoyed the reading more, the whole class seemed to take deeper interest in the read-aloud.

In time, we started integrating Diane’s physical therapy into our read-aloud by having her join us on the carpet in our reading area. The class sat along the perimeter; Diane sat in the center with a few kiddos around to embrace her as part of the class. This took time and more books (cue Lester Laminack). Diane slapped legs, untied shoes, and “blurted out.” None of us could contain our laughter! Then Diane would laugh and repeat her actions. She would rub her belly or tap her shoulders, an indication of her pleasure. (Of course she was pleased—she’d become the center of attention!)

Nothing humbled me, Nicole, or the students more than Diane’s expression of thanks. Normally, Nicole picked up Diane and placed her back in her wheelchair. However, in assisting Nicole one day in light of her pregnancy, I picked up Diane. I placed her on my hip, like a toddler. Diane threw her arms around my shoulders and laid her head on my shoulder, which startled me. Then, suddenly, she picked her head up and kissed me on the cheek. After I placed Diane in her wheel chair and put on her seatbelt, Diane again gestured how happy she was. I didn’t think a read-aloud would make that much of a difference. Instead, our read-aloud gave Diane a reason to be happy.

Nicole and I knew we made the right choice.

The pièce de résistance came to pass during the waning days of school on RIF (Reading is Fundamental) Day. I strolled Diane out of H5 and assigned a student to read with her. The student read aloud tentatively, as two others scooched in to share the limelight. Nicole ended up reading, with Diane’s eyes transfixed, intensely listening. Within moments, more kids migrated towards Diane with RIF books. Soon, the entire class enveloped Diane as Nicole read aloud without prompting. Total participation. Total acceptance. Staff from H5, the RIF volunteers, and I observed this phenomenon unfold.

Afterward, beyond excited, several students demonstrated a new hand gesture Diane taught them to indicate she wanted a book read to her (rubbing her hands together and opening them, like releasing a dove). The kids felt the blessing of speaking their peers’ enchanting language—communicating with one another about reading.

This year, our reading workshop will be revolutionized by Diane’s full inclusion! Like last year, Diane will join us for read-aloud. In our sharing circles, classmates will be responsible for her well-being and “on-task behavior.” (This means Diane can’t take her shoes off to entertain the class.) Every day, Diane will be assigned a new partner for independent reading. The pair will read picture books (fairy tales and myths) that allow the reader to explain to Diane what the text means and how pictures relate to text. After all, Diane is entitled to the gift and pleasure of reading.

Diane will never know the same freedom we have or hope for all of our readers; it’s unlikely she will ever be able to take on reading alone. Instead, Diane and her peers can share in the gift of reading and the emotional and spiritual gift of sharing time and space together. She enhances our class all together, not because of her disability, but because we learn to enjoy her membership in class and experience the value of reading. This year, we shared in her joy and passion for reading, one that we desire for all readers.

Reading provides a lens to see the world in color. Diane may not speak, but she can think. Through reading, she gets to learn about struggles characters face, compassion, ethical decisions, and love. Diane is able to be a part of a reading community. What we learned about Diane is that she sees the world in color and she learns just like you and I.

I encourage you to consider who you can invite into your daily read-alouds. If books bring the world to us or allow us to escape to another world, shouldn’t every child be allowed this opportunity? Nicole and I will never know what the reading does biologically for Diane. What we do know is how immensely happy she is to be in our classrooms listening, laughing, and learning with her peers and fellow readers.

Justin Stygles is a sixth-grade language arts teacher and IRA Advisory Committee of Teachers (ACT) committee member based in Norway, ME. He also serves as the state’s Maine Reading Association coordinator.