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.

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.

At some point, we’ve all experienced that moment when a student is reading aloud, finishes a sentence, and asks, “What does that word mean?”

Instead of saying, “Look it up,” I take the opportunity to engage my students in the all-important context clues discussion.

First, establish a comfortable learning environment. Students are often embarrassed for not knowing how to pronounce the word in the first place, what it means, or both. Therefore, some variation of the following scenario tends to ensue in our classroom:

Me: “Have any of you ever read a page from a book and wondered what you just read?”

Class: “Yes!”

Me: “I have, too. Although this may be because of several factors including being distracted, tired, hungry, and so forth, it is quite often due to not understanding the vocabulary. Does that sound about right?”

Class: “Yes.”

Once students feel comfortable accepting that it’s OK to not understand every word, we complete a context clues activity together. Because the basic layout can be used for any subject area, I will stick to describing the method instead of the exact sheets I use:
Begin with a paragraph pertaining to the subject at hand. This paragraph should contain a few higher level vocabulary words that may be new to most students. Make sure those words are in bold.

The directions should read similar to this: Read the following paragraph. After you have finished, go back and reread each sentence containing a bold word. Now, on the back of this paper, write each bold word and, on the basis of how it is used in the sentence, give your definition of that word.

After allowing students a few minutes to complete this portion, distribute the second part of the activity. This handout should include dictionary definitions of each bold word. Including every definition for that word the dictionary contains is vital. It is not uncommon for each bold word to have 3–5 definitions.

Have students select the dictionary definition that best matches their personal definition of each bold word. By doing this, students will see that the first dictionary definition does not always match the definition of a word based upon its context; this should remind us that “look it up” is not necessarily always the best advice (because students usually only read the first definition given).

To round out this assignment, I typically create columns on the board with each bold word at the top. I then poll students to see which dictionary definition was most often selected. We then discuss the importance of context clues and how central it is to pay attention to what happens around a word and how that can help solve the puzzle by connecting the pieces.

Students tend to enjoy this assignment. It is quick to generate and easily adaptable for any content matter once the template has been created.

Jeremy Burris teaches developmental English and reading at Isothermal Community College in Spindale, NC. He is also an adjunct English instructor at Gardner-Webb University in Boiling Springs, NC, and Blue Ridge Community College in Flat Rock, NC. 

If your students think they need you for just about every reading challenge, asking “What does this word say?” and “I don’t really get this part…” and “I can’t find any books I want to read,” then you likely dream about the day they learn to solve their own problems. True independence, in which students make choices, engage in deep reading, and self-direct how and why they read, is not just the stuff of dreams. I’ve found there are a few key moves we can make as teachers to support students’ reading independence. Let’s examine why solving our own problems is essential in the learning process.

The learner’s high

David Rock, in his book Quiet Leadership, explains what happens in the brain when someone solves her own problem. When a person encounters a problem she needs to solve and goes on to struggle to figure out a solution, a synapse is formed in the brain. That is basically a connection from one area to the next. The brain actually builds a new map and gets smarter. As this synapse is forming and the solution has arrived there is a “light bulb moment,” a feeling of eureka. This eureka feeling is actually a release of chemicals that are being produced by the brain—dopamine, adrenaline, and serotonin. These chemicals give you a “high” feeling as wonderful sensations arrive in your body. We have all experienced the “learner’s high,” and it has propelled us forward in wanting to solve problems again and again.

When we step in and help our students to solve the problem, we are actually stealing their “learner’s high.” We mean well. We think we are being helpful, but in fact we have robbed our students of two important evolutionary and learning experiences. We have not let students form the synapse in the brain that forms true learning and connections. Second, we have not let students experience the rush of problem solving, which is designed to reinforce their motivation to problem solve in the future. Being helpful often makes the helper feel better but not the one being helped, because we stole their feel-good chemicals. As teachers we may inadvertently be walking around “high” on the dopamine, adrenaline, and serotonin we get from solving our students’ problems.

Take one step back

The next time your students are faced with a reading problem, ask yourself, “Do I really need to step in just yet?” For many of us, we are uncomfortable watching students struggle so we swoop in and help out. As your students begin asking for help or seem to be experiencing a problem, follow this one simple step: Instead of stepping in to solve the problem, take a step back and pause. Breathe. Give them a moment to try a strategy on their own first. You can always step in and help after they try a bit on their own.

Notice your own threshold for letting readers struggle. If you can step back for only 5 seconds before stepping in to help, then the next time try to give them 10 seconds. Build your own stamina for struggle.

Create a classroom of trust

I am not suggesting we put students in a situation where they will be embarrassed, become frustrated, or feel defeated. In order to use this “step back practice” you first want to make sure that students are holding books they can read with accuracy and comprehension and that you have already modeled several strategies they know how to use. Once we teach students to use these tools, we can trust they will likely be able to use them with a little space and time.

If you worry that students won’t try anything and will just sit there when a problem arises, then consider giving readers a chance to try, to see if this is in fact what happens. If students do just sit there waiting for help, then show students your process of trying your best to solve your own reading challenges. Model the process of not giving up. Make struggling a positive verb in your classroom. Embrace the belief that all readers can tackle their challenges with modeling, permission, and space.

Gravity Goldberg is author of Mindsets and Moves: Strategies that Help Readers Take Charge (Corwin 2016) and coauthor of Conferring with Readers (Heinemann, 2007). She leads a team of literacy consultants in the NY/NJ area and presents to teachers across the United States. At the heart of Gravity's teaching is the belief that everyone deserves to be admired and supported. She can be reached via e-mail and on Twitter.

Goldberg will be a presenter at the Preconference Institute “Who's Doing the Work? Teaching for Transfer Across Read-Aloud, Shared Reading, Guided Reading, and Independent Reading” Friday, July 8, 9:00 AM–5:00 PM at the ILA 2016 Conference & Exhibits in Boston. She will also present “Using Mindsets and Moves to Develop Truly Independent Readers” Sunday, July 10, 8:00 AM–9:00 AM, in addition to copresenting at “Feedback That Moves Writers Forward: Saying the Right Thing at the Right Time So Students Own the Process” Sunday 10:00 AM–12:00 PM. Visit ilaconference.org for more information or to register.