Book Review: Free to Learn

Free to Learn
Peter Gray
Copyright 2013
235 pages

Taking a break from SVS Press books but still wanting to continue my Sudbury research, I picked up Free to Learn, an examination of what it means to play from an anthropologist (and also father of an SVS student)'s perspective. I'm not sure I really have much to say in review because I completely internalized the entire thing while reading it, enjoying it much more than I expected to. It's an easy read, apparently, as Gray's words leapt off the page and melded themselves immediately into my view of reality.

One of the things I enjoyed most about Free to Learn is the scale from which Gray speaks as an anthropologist. While exploring the world of alternative education, most every bit of literature I come across asks the Why question--"Why is our education system the way it is?" To which the unanimous response reads, "Well, the Industrial Revolution." But Gray, not accepting that as the complete answer, explores further, back to hunter-gatherers, the earliest humans, and plays with concepts he finds there.

In fact, play is exactly what he does, as he, himself, admits. "...I would estimate that my behavior in writing this book is about 80 percent play. That percentage varies from time to time as I go along; it decreases when I worry about deadlines or how critics will evaluate it, and it increases when I'm focused only on the current task of researching or writing. ... I am taking into account not just my sense of freedom about doing it, my enjoyment of the process, and the fact that I'm following rules (about writing) that I accept as my own, but also the fact that a considerable degree of imagination is involved. I'm not making up the facts, but I am making up the way of stringing them together. Furthermore, I am constantly imagining how they will fit into the whole structure I am trying to build, one that does not yet exist as concrete reality." (p. 140, 151) That play through which Gray writes is palpable throughout and makes for an entirely enjoyable experience.

Before reading Free to Learn, I knew, perhaps only through intuition, that play was an important part of learning, just not to this extent. Gray teaches us, through an examination of evolution, that play IS learning and that it is a powerful force, indeed. I can't recommend this book highly enough.

Ownership of Learning in a High School English Classroom

The most difficult thing about being a public school teacher in 2016 is that the students have given up all autonomy in their learning. Especially when they get to high school, they're completely accustomed to being fed lectures, work, problems, solutions, and techniques for every part of their day. By that point, they're even accustomed to being beat back down, and quickly!, every time they try to rebel against the system.

During my second year of teaching high school English, I wanted to give my students just a small taste of actual control.

I had designed my curriculum schedule for second semester very quickly. I probably only spent about 20 minutes on it at most. It looked like this:

My four grades each still had seven unite left, and it worked easier for me to teach the same unit with all four classes, just using different materials. My OCD found it much more manageable that way. However, for the sake of my students, for the sake of something I knew they would benefit from, I relinquished control. I gave them the opportunity to redesign the curriculum schedule.

Now, at this point, I knew giving them complete control would be too much. They wouldn't be able to handle that sort of shift suddenly, so I'd have to decide what was on the table. I gave them each the list of seven units, and they decided how long each should take and how to order them. It was extremely interesting watching how the problem solving discussion evolved differently among each class!

Here's what they came up with:

 Freshmen

Sophomores 

Juniors 

Seniors

After our discussions, I transferred all the calendars to separate sheets of paper. At first I thought we could hang them on the insides of different cabinets and open them during the appropriate class, but with the flexible classroom, I had students sitting against the cabinets every hour. Thus, change of plans, I moved them to a pillar at the front of the room. It was a rather inconvenient spot when I lectured, but I tried not to lecture so much, anyway. Plus, I think it was more convenient for the students to be able to see their schedule at the front of the room.

And the results?

First, yes, I was a little bit crazier not having everyone on the same schedule, but it was definitely worth it. When my students have more autonomy, I can deal with a little OCD-related anxiety. I own that, and it's mine to deal with.

It was also very important to me to listen to my students likes and dislikes. I gave them all a suggested time frame of how long I thought each unit should take, but then we discussed and compromised. My freshmen collectively hated poetry. They had taken 8 units of poetry in their school career thus far, and they knew their preferences. Even though I had planned to spend two weeks on that unit, we realized together that one week would suffice. This was helpful to them because they got to avoid more time with something they already knew wasn't their favorite, but also helpful to me because I learned that they had a very limited attention span for that unit. I would need to pare it down to just the most important highlights because if I included anything remotely boring, I'd lose them.

Some students admitted to me a few weeks or a month into the second semester that they were really surprised I followed through with the curriculum schedules they came up with. When I asked why, they told me that they thought it was a gimmick I was trying to sell them to get them interested in class but would eventually go back on. I was sad that they had that impression, but even more glad that I had made the decision to go forward with this idea. A month or two into the new schedule, as everyone realized I actually was serious, my juniors even came to me with the idea to replace their Shakespeare play for that year with Beowulf! They convinced me that it was a piece of fiction with arguably more historical significance, and I agreed. The unit was changed.

Some students listed designing the curriculum schedule as their favorite part of being in my class that year in their evaluation survey, and that makes my heart sing. <3

Universal Basic Income and Its Potential in the World of Education

Today's adventure begins with a foray into the world of economics, with short stops along the way into politics and humanitarianism. We'll get back to education before the end, I promise, so bear with me, even if you can't see where I'm going with all of this. It will make sense in the end.

Five Thirty Eight, a data-driven news blog, recently posted an article on Universal Basic Income, an idea than every citizen be given a no-strings-attached living stipend. It's a philosophy that I've heard in passing before and agreed with, despite my lack of knowledge on the subject. The article is a little lengthy, but well worth the read. For the purposes of THIS article, I'm going to assume you've read the Five Thirty Eight one, so go ahead. I'll be here when you get back.

Interesting stuff, right? To learn more, check out the thorough Wikipedia article, Basic Income Earth Network's website, including their YouTube video playlist, and Techdirt's podcast episode with Albert Wegman.

The proposal has been touted as something that everyone can get behind, from socialists to libertarians, Martin Luther King Jr. to Milton Friedman. It supposes that once everyone has their basic needs met, they can participate more fully in society, and that if they aren't struggling to survive, they can focus on more important things. That is, if one isn't forced to work a meaningless job because "it pays the bills," they can, instead, focus on making their lives better, a la, Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.

I can hear the collective gasp in response as I type this. There are a number of reasons why today's American society, if not the entire world, would balk at the suggestion. The one that I've heard most frequently when I've brought it up in the past (and one I'll discuss to day, as the others have well articulated responses in the links listed above) goes, "If no one had to work, they wouldn't. They would just sit at home, and nothing would get done! Productivity would go out the window!" I'm here to posit that that just isn't true. 

As Rutger Bregman puts it in his TEDx Talk, "If I asked each one of you in this room, 'Would you stop working? And I'll give you, you know, about 1,000 euros a month,' about 99% of you would say, 'Of course not. I've got dreams. I've got ambitions. I'm not going to sit on the couch, no.'"

Andrew Flowers of Five Thirty Eight backs this theory up, as well. He writes, of the Negative Tax Income pilots in the US, 

"Unsurprisingly, work effort did decline. Some NIT recipients cut back their hours, but the declines were modest: no more than 5 to 7 percent among primary earners, and a bit more for secondary earners.
But participants quitting altogether didn’t happen ... 'Some of the experimenters said that they were unable to find even a single instance of labor-market withdrawal,' wrote Widerquist in his 2005 paper summarizing the studies."

And I concur. Perhaps it comes from my belief in humanity. Yes, perhaps some individuals, Bregman's 1% of the audience, might choose to stay at home and relax unproductively with their stipend, but I choose to believe that the majority of humanity would do something with their lives, even if they didn't "have to." I believe that the natural curiosity and instincts inside each of us would push us to pursue our passions. I know I would still be working in education, regardless of pay, and my husband has said that he would still be in software development. Humans want to do things and feel productive. They want to feel like they're making a difference.

(I might also remind the reader that we don't know the stories of those individuals that would choose not to work. Maybe they've been working harder than the rest of us and actually "deserve" the respite. Maybe they're suffering from an unseen mental illness and would use that time as healing. Their lives are not ours to judge.)

Flowers conveys an idea of venture capitalist and author Albert Wegner's, "[He] wants less time spent on tasks that could be automated and more time spent on issues he thinks are insufficiently addressed: fighting climate change, exploring space, preventing the next global pandemic." Or, you know, bringing about the cessation of war. These are the real issues of our age, the serious problems that need to be settled, the ones we currently don't have time or funding for. I believe that humanity can solve these issues, and moreover, that we want to, we have a drive to. I believe that, given the opportunity, there would be an insurgence of people rushing to solve the world's most pressing issues. Right now, without the agency to do so, we've just become apathetic.

One concern of mine is that, as we have seen in the past, further half-hearted studies will ruin the name of Universal Basic Income. The most likely, in my opinion, is that a short-term study will determine that this proposal doesn't work--that the majority of people don't pursue their dreams, that they do buy alcohol and junk food and "waste" their time at home on the couch. The short-term studies will "prove" what everyone has been thinking all along.

Only a serious, long-term study will demonstrate the true strengths of humanity, their resilience and curiosity and passion, because here's another belief of mine: Humanity has a certain structure at this time. We have a schedule and a time table and someone telling us menacingly, "Do this or else." Without those things, we WILL take some time to explore our new-found freedoms. We WILL excitedly go to the store to pick up some "free" junk food and go home to relax on the couch and watch some shows. So if that's all the time the study allows for, yes, that's what it will find. However, if the studies give us more time and patiently sit back to watch what happens, after a while we will sit up and say, "I'm bored. I don't want to watch TV anymore. I want to do something fun!" And THAT'S when the good part will begin. THAT'S when we'll start to explore what we can REALLY do with ourselves.

We just have to be given the chance. And, as Flowers demonstrated in his article, there aren't any sufficient studies to yet prove one way or the other.

Alright, still with me? Now it's time to turn this train around and head back to the world of education. This is where it gets difficult for me because I'm about to discuss an issue that I am entirely too attached to. I feel vulnerable letting people see it because I don't want anyone to hurt it. But my opinion is a fortress, and I know that letting it out will either strengthen it or knock it down, and what do I want with a fortress that's too weak to withstand a little criticism, anyway? Thus, I welcome the criticism because I want the best ideas for my students. If this is not one, so be it. If it is, let's strengthen it and make it the best that it can be.

While I was exploring the world of Montessori, the philosophy that stood out stronger than the rest was, "Follow the child." Perhaps we might all have different takes on what precisely this means, but to me, it means, "The child is best suited to learn whatever he is most curious about," and, "The natural curiosity of a child is his key to education." Dictating what a child must learn and when will only serve to frustrate him, make him rebellious, and turn him against the idea of learning all together.

And I've taken this idea almost to an extreme, it seems to some people I know. When I explain this to others, the most common response I hear is, "But children will never learn if we don't make them."

Aha. Sound familiar? Thus, I return to my previous point: Yes, they will. 99% of the children in the room, if given enough time and started at the right age, have the natural curiosity and instinct to pursue their passions and make something with their time. And that means learning along the way, REAL learning. Not memorizing multiplication tables or the order of the presidents, because that information can be "automated," or in this instance, easily referenced. What learning would they do instead? I'm guessing the same learning that adults would be doing: "fighting climate change, exploring space, preventing the next global pandemic." Or, you know, bringing about the cessation of war.

But again, we can't expect this to happen in one or two years, especially, as I'm learning currently and will discuss in a later post, not starting with high schoolers. If I were to tell my high school students, "You don't have to go to school. Go learn anything you want on your own," the majority of them would excitedly go to the store, buy some junk food, and then go home to sit on the couch and watch TV. Only after they've had their fill of that would they say, "I'm bored. Eh, okay, let's see what else there is to do." But I'm assuming that many of them would be too far down the wrong path and struggle to get back to the right one. I think that's because they've been shoved into the current model so long, it's the only thing they know. 

But if we started with four- and five-year-olds, it would be a different story. If we asked them, "What do you want to learn about?" each would be bursting with their own answer. If we begin with the excitement of the young child, allow them to pursue their passion, patiently sitting back to watch what happens, I believe he will retain that passion throughout his life and eventually turn it into the solutions to humanity's real issues.

Summerhill School, an Overview and a Short Book Review

Summerhill School: A New View of Childhood by A. S. Neill, Revised and Expanded, 1996 American edition, edited by Albert Lamb.

Summerhill is wildly popular in the realm of alternative education today, so let's start with a little general information about the school itself before we get into details on the book.

Summerhill was founded by Alexander Sutherland Neill in 1921, first in Germany. It soon moved to Austria, again to Dorset, England, and finally ended up in Suffolk, England in 1927, where it's remained ever since. It's a boarding school that houses around between 60 and 100 students (boys and girls) aged 5 to 18. It is known for being one of the first democratic schools, meaning that rules and general functioning (apart from, in this case, human resources and finances) are conducted by a popular vote in which each student and staff member counts as one voice. Lessons are held by about 10 teachers in traditional subjects, such as math, English, and science, and also in non-traditional things, such as gardening, making paper airplanes, and playing chess, though no lessons are compulsory. Play is seen as more important than academics, and students that come from other schools typically spend an entire year or two attending no classes at all. The selling point of this is that when students do decide to attend classes, it is at their own desire, and, with such intrinsic motivation, quickly excel.

The school has survived the death of its founder in 1973, against his own expectations, and is now run by Neill's daughter, Zoe Readhead. She has pulled the school through a number of inspections by the UK's Ofsted (Office for Standards in Education, Children's Services and Skills), one of which ended in an order to force compulsory of lessons. The school took the department to court and won a settlement. The whole ordeal must have been an anxious time for the community, and a BBC movie titled Summerhill was based on that event. It seems as though the government has gotten a better sense of how the school functions since then, and has given it space to exist without fear of being shut down. Their 2011 inspection indicates that they recognize the unique benefits Summerhill offers.

Also interesting to note, possibly to no one but me: as of 2011, Ofsted lists day school tuition as roughly £3,000 to £9,000 ($4,500 to $13,000) and boarding tuition as roughly £8,500 to £14,000 ($12,000 to $21,000). I'm assuming this is per term, which is roughly equivalent to an American semester. That's quite a bit, but then again, I've never looked at prices for boarding schools. The day school prices seem a little much, too, though.

As for the book itself, it's necessary read with some context in mind. Again, Summerhill was founded in 1921. Having been up and running strong for almost 100 years, it's no longer the experimental school it once was. It wasn't even really an experimental school when the book was written in 1960. The author, however, is the same man, and he carries with him some characteristics from his age. Reading his words, Neill certainly seems like someone's grandfather.

He certainly has some mannerisms that would be inexcusable in today's educational setting. The most notable is the way he speaks to the students. He claims that he is meeting them on their level and that that this startles them into realizing they don't have to view him as an authority figure. Sure. But literally cursing at the children? At one point, when a new enrollee refuses a cigarette, but Neill is positive that he's a smoker, Neill scolds him, "Take it, damn you." At points, he seems to bicker with the children as though he is one of them. I'm on board with the idea of treating students like you would treat adults, but this is just too far.

Additionally, he seems to show no regard for real laws outside of the school. He mentions fears of being shut down, say, if a student became pregnant at the school, but then clearly demonstrates a disregard for other laws, like indecency, smoking, and age of consent. The school makes rules democratically, but it's interesting how many things come up that I feel would be outside of the realm of consideration legally. No, children, we can't go sunbathing nude, no matter how many of you think we should, because it's against the law. The police will arrest us. Or maybe laws in Britain are different than the US laws I'm familiar with. Or maybe they were different in 1960. Neill fears different things will shut down the school than I would currently would.

And then there's the small point of him coming to education with an interest in psychology and thinking he needs to "cure" his students...

Apart from that, Summerhill School remains radical for positive reasons, even still. The book garnered a lot of attention when it was published, and it seems like it started quite a movement. I devoured my copy, covering it in highlighting, bullet points, and exclamation points. It was a wonderful read, but alas, for some reason I can't bring myself to go into any further detail here. My brain has processed the information and is ready to move on. I'll have to leave you with links to further research instead. More, undoubtedly, when I take up the concept again.

Summerhill's official website
Wikipedia's Summerhill entry
Zoe Readhead - Summerhill--That Dreadful School!
The Guardian article: Summerhill school and the do-as-yer-like kids
The Guardian article: Summerhill School: these days surprisingly strict
The Independent article: Summerhill alumni: 'What we learnt at the school for scandal'
The Independent article: Summerhill: Inside England's most controversial private school
Centre for Self Managed Learning - Report of an Inquiry into Summerhill School

A Dream (School) Reborn

A few years ago, I started thinking about creating a school of my own. Of taking everything I've been learning in my exploration of education and combining it into one beautiful amalgamation of a physical location where children and young adults can grow and thrive. The best pieces of every methodology combined into something wonderful. A place that cultivates 21st century citizens, peaceful, creative, and healthy. A place that is living and changing and growing right along with its students.

Unfortunately, as I began teaching in the "real world," I felt that dream slipping away.

Here's a story I've heard again and again: a curious, playful, life-loving, fun-creating, happiness-filled five-year-old enters school, vivacious and energized, excited because she knows it means learning, something she loves more than anything. And she's told to sit still in a hard, plastic chair for hours. She's told that she mustn't speak unless she raises her hand. That she must follow directions given to her by adults. That she isn't to ask why. Just do it because we tell you to. And slowly but firmly, all of the curiosity and energy and enthusiasm for learning is beaten out of her until she's just like the rest of the students, just another pawn in the game of modern society.

A similar thing happened to me. I, as well, entered school, but as the teacher. I was made to make the students sit still in hard, plastic chairs for hours. I was made to tell the students that they mustn't speak unless they raise their hands. That they must follow the directions I give them. That they aren't to ask why, just do it because I tell them to.

I've been fighting bout after bout of depression and work-related stress. I've tried to tell myself that it's silly, to get over it, because "I have a great job." I've worked in two different schools where I could "create my own curriculum" and design the classroom "however I like." Why should I feel depressed and stressed out about that? I've been able to innovate and try different methods of teaching, throwing out ideas that I couldn't get to work and supplementing them with new ones of my own creation. I've been getting more and more courageous--I'm currently working to design a deskless classroom!

But the thing is, it's still a classroom. It's still all within the structure of the traditional public school.

Since I've started actually teaching, I've been told that this is just the way real teaching really is. I've been surrounded by "educators" that have had their curiosity and energy and enthusiasm for teaching slowly but firmly beaten out of them until they're just like the rest of the teachers, just creating more pawns in the game of modern society.

I let them and everyone else around me kill the dream school idea. It was a silly idea. THIS is what it's like to REALLY be teaching.

And, just like the little girl, I became disillusioned by what everyone else decided was what "school" really meant, what "teaching" really meant.

Like her, I had hopes and dreams of what I could do once I really got to "school," once I really started "teaching," what it would mean and what it would be like.

And like her, I got crushed when I really got there, shoved into a role that wasn't meant for me, broken of spirit.

And yet, I haven't been able to shake this feeling that I'm meant for something else... Something I don't even know about yet... You know that statistic that says some such number of students will one day work in jobs that haven't even been created yet? I haven't been able to shake the thought of that...

This summer, in the midst of beating my head against a wall to develop a curriculum for my third year of teaching, I had to take a break. I had to step away from the nothing I was doing and the persistent screaming in my head. I took a walk and ended up at an elementary school near my house, one that was shut down to ship the students off to a bigger, more factory-like model of school, despite the protest of children and parents who loved the building and the community it housed. I peeked in every window, wondering what it was like, this place so many people once loved and fought so hard in vain to protect. I found myself dreaming of reopening it.

I dreamed all day, though my brain continued its screaming about the impending doom of the Upcoming School Year. I know why. My thoughts took refuge there to escape the actual work I needed to do. I know it was easier to live there in a fantasy-dream world where everything was perfect and happy-fun-times. It was an escape tactic.

But I've kept coming back. It's been three months, and I can't get the thoughts out of my mind.

I just can't fight it anymore--my dream of opening a school has been reborn.

Most of the time, because it happens very frequently, the story of the little girl has a dreary ending--she lives a sad, frustrated childhood and grows up to live much the same as an adult. But sometimes it has a happy ending--the child and her parents find a new, alternative school more fit to her learning style where she can thrive. Her passion is reignited.

I've been doing more research again on alternative schools and education. I've been reading Summerhill School, a book that's been on my To Read list for years. I'm glad I saved it for now because this is a time when it can really empower me. I'm only a little ways into it so far, but I've been as inspired by it as I was my first time through Children Who are Not Yet Peaceful. I've also been researching other democratic schools, including Sudbury. I have so much to learn and to think about and to explore. I have so much to write. So much to do! Like the little girl with the happy ending of the story, my passion has been reignited.

And that statistic I keep thinking about, with the students that will work in jobs that have yet to be invented? I think it does apply to me, after all, and my job hasn't been created yet because I haven't created it.

A Further Iteration Idea for Classic Literature Studies

Three weeks in, and I already have to mix it up. My Classic Literature Studies program is already not working out the way I planned. This is why we embrace flexibility as teachers!

I'm not sure if it's just my school, or region, or country, or generation, or what, but my students are not "getting" classic lit.

My mind immediately goes back to the foundation of the project as a whole. The basis of Lit. Research and CLS both were to same question: Why do we teach classic lit in schools? The answer was that these are books every high schooler needs to read so that we, as a society, maintain a level of collective consciousness. That is to say, every person (at least in America) reads these books so that we have a common set of knowledge to draw upon. If we make a reference to Romeo and Juliet or To Kill a Mockingbird, we can be relatively sure that it will be understood.

I had a small class of seniors today, so we talked about it together. We really, actually talked this time. I had been letting a one-sided lecture suffice for this topic, but this time I opened up and welcomed feedback. The consensus they reached was, "Well, that doesn't matter because these books suck. Why are we forced to read these books when so many better books exist?"

And I get it. I completely get that. In fact, I have friends that question my commitment to teaching classics, as well. A common refrain from my husband whenever I mention literature is, "So, when are you going to teach The Name of the Wind?" Another friend always opens his mouth and then just shuts it because he knows he won't get a satisfactory answer from me; he's already tried.

To some extent, I'm still stuck in I-have-to-do-things-the-right-way mode. I'm afraid of being shunned both by my school community and by English teachers as a whole. I'm afraid of being outed as "not a REAL English teacher" if I don't dedicate myself to teaching the "proper" things.

But... isn't that what I do? Isn't that my whole schtick? Isn't the basis of professional career as a whole to question tradition (as Millennials are wont to do) and give my student what really matters? Have I really gotten so confrontation-shy?

At the same time, I still don't feel like I'm ready to drop CLS completely yet. There is still the matter of the collective consciousness that I felt so strongly about. And there is still the matter of my constituents (namely, my students' parents) wanting to keep the classics in the classroom. So it's not out the window yet. I'm just going to mix it up some more.

A story came across my local NPR channel on my drive to work this morning about how a recent study shows Kansans' desire for schools to teach a shocking 70% non-academic skills, "like teamwork, communication and persistence," over the traditional math and reading curriculum. Hearing that was just what my sore little heart needed to hear. I've been so stressed recently trying to force my curriculum to work. It was a relief to hear that others across my state are embracing a more liberal education again. I reached work in a brighter mood, ready to make some changes, ready again to challenge the status quo. I started brainstorming as my students wrote in their notebooks.

First, why do we need the change? What's been going on?

For a little over a year, I've been trying to teach classic literature as such:

-At first, I tried the most traditional route: Assigning one or two chapters of reading homework at a time and giving quizzes the next day. The students hated it, and so did I. They were forced to maintain the speed I set, which slowed many of them down and rushed the others quicker than they could handle. The quizzes seemed like an inauthentic mode of conversation, and most of them felt like I was just trying to "catch them" not reading. But when I tried NOT giving quizzes, most of them didn't read at all. The whole thing seemed inauthentic, in general, because that's not how we read when we read for pleasure, a chapter at a time, then stop and recap. Well, not most of the time, anyway.

-Thus, Lit. Research. I tried making reading optional. They didn't have to read the book, but they did have to know about it. The students had to look up the books on the computer and develop a summary paragraph listing an "elevator speech" of the most important things it encompassed. And they could still read if they wanted to, though I only had a couple of students read a couple of books the entire year. It seemed like such a good idea, but the students were lazy and I wasn't very good at enforcing my expectations. For the most part, they printed a page from Sparknotes and called it good. Thus, they didn't truly comprehend the books or the messages within, and I was again frustrated.

-This year, I've been trying to take the middle road by giving them only short excerpts to read. (Again, the whole book is available, but not mandatory.) It's three weeks in, and I can already tell that it's not going to work. My students still resist reading anything I put in their hands if at all possible. But now I've come across a new problem I didn't realize I had last year--they don't comprehend the text. Even the first excerpt, which I purposefully chose as an introduction to the book, no prior knowledge necessary (though we did, of course, go over some background information beforehand) led to complaints of, "I don't get it." They don't want to read, and when they do read, they don't understand what they're reading.

After realizing that the text wasn't coming alive for them, I started reading the excerpts to my students. I have mixed feels about this process already.

I was going to make a claim of "Everyone likes to be read to" and link it to an article confirming said claim, but then I realized that that's a bigger point that I can actually do a lot of research on. I could write an entire post about using read alouds with high school students.

So, until that point, suffice to say that part of my new plan for CLS includes read alouds. It seems to be the only way that I can get the "boring, old" text to come alive for my students, apart from movie adaptations (which I'm always weary of, personally). More on my mixed feels when I sort them. Until then, I'm reading Classic Lit to my students and discussing as we go along.

And for the rest of reading? I've been thinking about getting more classroom involvement in self-selected reading, most likely along the lines of a creative project once per quarter. Perhaps a video or a podcast or something? It seems a little daunting, honestly, but we'll start out small. They still have AR point goals and half an hour a week of class time to read. I just want to do more with that.

Lit. Research and the Metaphor of One's Position as a Structure

I'm afraid to start talking about Lit. Research.

I'm afraid of analyzing it.

I'm still not that confident in the validity of it as a curriculum.

I spent a year fighting for it, but towards the end, I got tired. I began to grow skeptical myself.

I keep trying to reflect on it, but one thought keeps looming above all others: What if it isn't actually that good of an idea?

Every time anyone questioned it (slash me, because I take things personally), I was able to justify the program. But just barely, it seemed. I don't know that I really convinced anyone.

I know that it's okay to have an idea that doesn't work. It's part of the invention process. It's part of iterating. "I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work," and all that. I know that it's completely acceptable and that I would say the same to my students.

It's just hard to admit it.

It hurts your pride.

Especially when it's about something you've tried over and over to convince a hundred doubtful people of.

Especially when you're trying to convince a hundred doubtful people of your professionalism at the same time.

But of course it COULD still be a good idea. It COULD work.

And that's one of the reasons it's so hard. I don't know whether to keep fighting or to just give up.

And I'm not going to know unless I explore it more.

Repeat from line one.

I just have the sinking feeling that I'm fighting in vain. That I'm working on a useless project. That I'm trying to claim I'm an engineer while building a bridge out of toothpicks.

See, here is a concept I've played with in my mind for years: Each position, stance, or philosophy you hold to be true is a structure. Every time it's questioned, your structure chips at the foundation. Through reasoning and logic, you can fortify the structure of your position, making it stronger. At times, an enemy may deliver such a stunning blow to your structure that it becomes irrecoverable. You may discover that that structure wasn't defending, that it was build on shaky ground to begin with, and no fortifying will ever make it stand tall again. At that point, you may have to forfeit your claim and take up the enemy's. Or, in the case that your enemy's structure was likewise destroyed, you may be forced to build an entirely new structure out of broken pieces of the old and your enemy's put together. If your structure is never questioned, it is weak. It's only through dialogue, through delivering blows to one another's castles (ACTUAL blows, with intent to knock them down) that one can build a strong, worthy stance on anything.

My castle of beliefs about Lit. Research has been questioned, but instead of fortifying it with reasoning and better logic, I've just been patching the cracks and ignoring them. I haven't truly been trying to build my castle to withstand anything thrown against it. I've been turning my back to it, assuming it was still there, standing strong! In fact, it may have been dealt a finishing blow ages ago. The only way to know for sure is to analyze the cracks.

And what that means in reality is a deep analysis of the program as a whole, both the foundation it's based on and the details of how it's done.

It's just that it's scary because I created this program. I believed in it. I viewed it as my own child.

But it's not. It's only a structure.

I take blows against it personally, but I shouldn't. Those blows aren't towards me as a person or even as a teacher, they are just testing blows. They are testing the validity of my castle.

I'm afraid of discovering that my castle has suffered a fatal blow because that might mean that I'd have to take up my enemy's flag. But didn't I just say that it's acceptable, the that case, to build a new structure out of the remaining pieces? That's what iterating IS. Build the structure, try to knock it down. If it falls, take the existing whole pieces and build a better one.

I want the best for my students. I want to teach them in the best, most efficient and effective ways, and that means that I need to analyze my methodology. I need to test its strength and look for cracks that need to be fortified. I need to see if its integrity has already been so damaged that it doesn't hold weight anymore. And if that's the case, I need to pick up the broken pieces and start again.

Because I'd ask the same of my students as I would for myself.

I will analyze the shit out of this program. I will test it for weaknesses myself. By the time August rolls around, there won't be a disputing attack strong enough to hurt my castle anywhere to be found.

Experience with Assigned Reading in High School

Although I had developed a revolutionary idea about how to teach literature, I still only had the confidence of a second year teacher. Just like last year, when faced with the challenge of forming my own curriculum, I fell back on that which is commonly accepted. When I asked myself, "What does one learn in a high school English class?" the answer came, "Literature." I knew I disliked this truism just by remembering my own high school experience. I remember thinking to myself, "Why are we reading so much in English class? If I wanted to read, I would have taken a literature class! I want to be learning grammar!" (I was a strange child...)

And yet, it is what it is. That's what's expected. I'm to give each student a classic novel, assign pages to read each night, and give quizzes in the morning. In the classroom I inherited, there are shelves full of book sets for me to do just that. That's what parents, administration, and my fellow teachers expect. It's not that I can't stray from this model, it's just that if I do, I'd better be prepared to explain my pedagogical philosophy immediately. And we all know I'm working on building the confidence to do that.

Plus, well.. how can I know for sure that I don't want to teach literature in this way if I don't even try? There's no reason that I can't assign a book and still do Lit. Research at the same time. We'll just try it this way first, I resigned.

So I sorted through what I had available, gave questionnaires to determine what my classes had previously read, considered what I read when I was in high school, and eventually came up with my assigned reading:

* Romeo and Juliet for freshmen because I had heard somewhere that freshmen all over the country are assigned Romeo and Juliet.

* To Kill a Mockingbird for sophomores because I had heard the same thing about it, but the sophomores hadn't read it last year as freshmen.

* A Midsummer Night's Dream for juniors because I arbitrarily felt like they needed some more Shakespeare and I didn't have Hamlet or Macbeth (which was weird). A Midsummer Night's Dream was always my favorite Shakespearean play, anyway, so no hard feelings.

* And Fahrenheit 451 as the dystopian novel for seniors because I think one of the big three (451, Brave New World, and 1984) are typically assigned junior or senior year. And I adore dystopian novels.

With no evidence on which to base my hypothesis, I think most traditional high schools give students a Shakespearean play each year. (When I was in high school, I was assigned Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Macbeth, though most of my friends were given Hamlet in place of MSND.) This plan didn't give my students Shakespeare each year, but.. well, I worked with what I had. (More on Shakespeare to come... much more. I've developed some passionate feelings on this topic.)

Well, it seemed like a good place to start! Definitely a plan a good little teacher would come up with. I passed out books and took down the numbers written on the inside cover on a sheet of paper next to their names, like a good little teacher. I assigned the first few pages to read as homework, like a good little teacher.

But that's about where my commendable organization ended.

My first mistake was relying too heavily on having each class do something similar each day. I wanted writing assignments for each class on the same day, to stay at about the same point in each book, and finish up at around the same time. This is an obvious mistake. Not only are the classes at different reading and comprehension levels, but they're reading different materials. Of course it's not going to take as long to read 451 as it is to read To Kill a Mockingbird. Yep. A little more planning would have settled this out, and it's not insurmountable in the future, just a little messy the first time through.

Mostly this was difficult having two classes reading Shakespeare and two not. This meant that I definitely couldn't do comprehension and discussion the same way. The constant gear switching was irksome, but eventually there was some semblance of organization. After a little trial and error, it wound up like this:

* A passage by passage analysis of Shakespeare with class notes. Mostly this boiled down to asking what happened in the section we read, prompting if any important details were forgotten in the response, and writing on the board for students to copy. I tried to only write student wording, but occasionally I had to ask for clarity if I could tell not everyone understood. I feel like this was an acceptable way to go about Shakespeare, though surely not the best. Students were responsible for reading and translating the original text, but I could point out any passage that needed further exploration. I assisted in the creation of notes to assure everyone's comprehension, but it was still in their words.

* Discussion circle of 451. 451 lends itself nicely to discussion, and I enjoyed the conversations it brought up, though I could tell the seniors didn't really get into it. Towards the end, they got lazy in their reading and I had to start giving quizzes to ensure they actually made it through the text. That still wasn't quite motivating enough for about half of them, though. They had made up their minds that they greatly disliked this book.

* Daily quizzes and discussion of the responses for To Kill a Mockingbird. My sophomore class is my most trying and challenging group of students, and this was my attempt at being stern with them.  Many saw their grades decline drastically during this time. But still, I think maybe I'm okay with it, as it was an authentic and direct consequence for the action of not reading the assigned reading. Their grades clearly showed which students read and which didn't. I had a few students fail this semester, and though I'm not sure I'm okay with that, those students were the ones that didn't do the work. (Bah, THAT'S definitely a concept I need to revisit at some point. Just typing it gives me an unpleasant feeling.) But regardless, after the quizzes, the responses were discussed, so that even the students that didn't read knew what had happened in the selected chapters. And I DID try to give straightforward questions on the quizzes. I tried my best to avoid any sort of thing that could be seen as a trick question.

Also there was the fact that the last time I read these books (with the exception of 451) was when I was in high school. So I suddenly found myself with four books to read and lessons and quizzes to plan immediately and concurrently. It was a tough month. I got through it, but it definitely could have gone better with planning.

My biggest problem, though, was that the students all hated the books. I had a couple freshmen liked Romeo and Juliet once they got past the language barrier, and one sophomore really enjoyed To Kill a Mockingbird. The rest read begrudgingly, if at all. And that's no way to read. I hate seeing reading as such a chore.

One issue there was with my lack of planning again. I think I took too long getting through the books, and by the end, everyone was tired. But they had hated the books long before that, so it was more of an additional problem than a main one.

Perhaps it could have been a lack of autonomy. I told them what to read. I've spent a small amount of time since then perusing articles about English classes run solely on choice literature. As I've said before, my school does AR, so I'm not as concerned that my students get choice reading, because it's already happening.

But perhaps I could get them to do more response work to their AR books, like book reports or writing that copies the style of the text or reflects deeply on the concepts presented.

Or perhaps I could do small reading groups for self-selected classics from the shelf. That seems doable, but what would I do the first time a student came to me three pages into A Scarlet Letter and said they hated it? Could I allow them to put it back, or would I make them lie in the bed they had made?

Regardless, I think a bigger issue is at hand that I'm ignoring.

One thought that crossed my mind at some point during a comprehension-checking discussion was that some of these students just... really didn't get it. Maybe they weren't ready for it... but no, that's ridiculous. These are high school students we're talking about. They are practically adults, and if they aren't capable now, they never will be. Besides, what about high expectations for my students? Readiness isn't an issue.

But at the same time, I was certainly understanding the assigned reading at a different level on this, my adult read-through, than I did at their age. Was I asking too much for full comprehension from someone with as little life experience as they had? But maybe that's just it. Maybe it's more about providing new experiences. But, if that's the case, couldn't there be a better way? Videos or something? My students seemed so disconnected from the books I placed in their hands.

I certainly think it's asking a lot for a deep connection to a text from an entire class, despite how few students are in my classes, in particular. The more students, the less connection to the lesson, it seems.

Woah, that's quite a statement. The more students involved, the less individual connection to the lesson.

Okay, okay. That may be profound (or maybe it isn't at all), but it's not the issue we're here to discuss today. Focus, Holly. The point of that statement was that reading is a personal thing. I can understand small group, because small groups can dissect and analyze in a way that one person alone can't, but if you add more students that aren't invested, it detracts from the commitment of the others. It removes them from their magical connection with the text. Or, put another way, using another concept I also haven't written about, it takes them out of their flow.

So we've discovered two things: if I'm assigning reading, it must be self-selected, and it must either be solo work or small group work.

And still I'm ignoring it. I keep avoiding a point my mind keeps trying to bring up, and it's this: why are we reading these books in the first place? If my students are disconnected with the text while trying to get through a whole book, why force them? We know students don't learn well when they're being forced. I'm giving them the Lit. Research project to make them aware of the collective consciousness Americans have of literature. My goal is to supplement each material we discuss with an abridged selection of the original text so that they get exposure to different styles of writing, I just haven't collected them all yet. I'm also encouraging reading the full texts on their own. As of yet, only the freshmen have taken me up on that offer, but the offer still remains for everyone.

And as for the experience thing. If my job is to provide experiences and various perspectives to consider, I must find various was to do it, not just from "classic" texts. They just don't hold the same weight for students today as they once did.

The real question is this--is it worth my time to do it again? Honestly, at this point, I have to answer, no. It's not. I really don't think I'm giving my students any positive experiences that they couldn't get on their own, and the negative ones I'm giving weigh much more heavily.

And what of making students do things they don't like to build character? Well, I could argue that in college and the adult world, there will be plenty of things they have to do that they hate, and there's something to be said for developing the skill of persisting in that way, but... well, why does it have to be reading? Yeah, I know that in college and the adult world there will be a ton of dry, boring material to get through. But, on the other other hand, I'm doing that with the articles of the week. So! There's my answer for that, and I'll completely dismiss the entire argument because it makes me uncomfortable. I don't like forcing students to read books that they don't enjoy, because books should be entertaining. Articles and other nonfiction materials are sometimes dry but necessary. If a book is boring, stop reading it.

The other argument I anticipate is, "Reading classics in English class is tradition," and it's hard for me not to just dismiss that, as well. I'm not here for tradition. I'm here for results. Tradition wasn't working for us. It's a new age, and we have new techniques to try. We have new and exciting work ahead of us. (Honestly, is that not a tag line of my entire blog yet? I'm setting it as that right now.)

Well, is that it, then? Do I have my pedagogical philosophy prepared? Am I ready to explain myself to colleagues, parents, and administration? If not quite yet, I should be soon enough.

The only thing left is to decide what I am going to do with our time together, if not this. Eh, there's still five days left before winter vacation is over.

The Literature Research Project

I haven't been teaching my high school English classes with textbooks this year. That was a conscious decision I made going in, and thankfully, I had the authority to make it. But then, of course, came the questions of, "Well, if not textbooks, what then?"

The first concept that I explored (and still am) is the novel.

I should preface this with the fact that my school does, and has for years done, Accelerated Reader. So I know that my students are reading (and if they're not, then that's a separate issue to be dealt with on its own). I know that they're reading choice books, and I know that they're reading at least 30 minutes every weekday. With that in mind, reading isn't the same problem as it is in other schools. I'm not tasked with the goal of making sure students read for the sake of reading. I know that they're already doing it.

I questioned myself, Why do English classes read what they traditionally do? You know what I'm talking about--the standard curriculum. Romeo and Juliet and To Kill a Mockingbird in Freshman year, Gatsby in Sophomore, etc. Why?

Is it just for the sake of tradition? I was made to read this when I was your age. I disliked this idea and played with it in my mind for a while before I was able to put it into better terms.

I like to think that it's to create a shared American experience. More of a, kids all over the country your age are reading this, so you need to, as well. Something to create a liberal education and collective consciousness of society.

A liberal education is easy to explain: it's a good idea to take a look at a wide variety of topics and voices in order to widen your perspective and understand more about the world. Everything is interconnected, and something you encounter in one discipline (or in one book) might provide insight or help solve a problem in another area of your life. There are some good lessons in the books that have already been chosen for us. (That being said, they shouldn't be left unquestioned. If something seems outdated, it requires further scrutiny and replacements should be considered.)

But "collective consciousness" is a little more difficult. To understand it, I found myself asking the question that every student asks, "When will I need to know this?" It's a question of authenticity, a valid question indeed, so I answered:

When will these novels and literature themes come up again, hypothetical student? Well, first of all, you might need to know them in college when your English 101 and 102 professors expect you to be familiar with them.

Pfft. Alright, sure, but that's still an artificial reason. What else you got?

Okay, let's consider. Because these are books that the rest of America knows, everyone makes references to them, and, likewise, everyone understands those references. You will probably encounter these references your entire life--a conversation with a coworker, a news report, a song you hear on the radio, a movie you're going to see. 

Ah. So that's what is meant by collective consciousness. Central themes that we know as a society. Common stories that we all know and can discuss together.

So what's really important here? The ability to know the books in America's collective consciousness and understand references to them.

But as our society grows, so does our collective consciousness. Every year, there are more and more books added to our pool of material from which references are made. At this point in time, I doubt there are very many Americans, if there are even any at all, who have actually read all of these books that are considered important enough to make references to.

Now, what I'm about to say next is considerably controversial, but that's why we're here at Non-traditional Teaching, right? So bear with me.

What if English class didn't mandate that students read a limited, select few books cover to cover, but instead guided them to conduct research on a wide number of books so that they understood a larger amount of material present in America's collective consciousness?

Thus, my Literature Research project was born. This concept was intriguing enough to dive head first into. It was exciting!

My first step was to discover what all was encompassed in the literature realm of America's "hive mind," if you will. The first thing that came to mind was a silly quiz I'd seen on Facebook titled something like, "Which of these 100 classic books have you read?" I couldn't find the precise one, but in my search for it, I discovered countless other lists. I had hoped to find a good, comprehensive one, but that didn't happen. They all came up short somehow, and none of them included everything I expected it to.

I finally settled on a list of Assigned Reading in High School on Goodreads (this one? I can't recall). It was quite extensive, and there was no way that we would have the time to cover everything, so I had to pare it down.

I decided that my seniors, being the closest to departure into "the real world" should have the most to research. One book per week would be 31 books. (I needed just a few weeks to get settled in. Next year it could be more if we begin right away.) Juniors would work on the project every other week and have 16 books under their belt, and Freshmen and Sophomores could do it just once a month and have 8.

But then as for the actual book selections... That was a difficult decision, and it finally came down to my own discretion. I scoured the list and picked out the 31 books that I, personally, had heard the most references to in my adult life. Who am I to make those sorts of claims and decide what is in the collective consciousness? I know, but someone had to make a decision. I hated doing it, but it was my project, so it might as well be me. And besides, doesn't every English teacher do that each year by determining which material to share with her class? Not that that makes me feel any better about it, but it is what it is. I organized my 31 books into a weekly schedule. Step One finished. Books decided upon. Here's the finalized list for Seniors. Underclassmen have some of the same books, just not as many. (Click to enlarge.)

Now for Step Two. How to guide my students to knowledge of these pieces of literature? Well, as an adult, how do I learn something I want to know about? Google, of course! Wikipedia is a great place to start because it usually summarizes everything up nicely in one paragraph at the top, and if I want to go deeper, I can just keep reading. There's also Sparknotes, if I want to go chapter by chapter, and blogs and articles that analyze different aspects that are interesting.

But, of course, it may be a book that has been on a student's To Read list for a while, and he wants to just read the whole thing on his own. Awesome. The scheduled date is listed for their convenience.

Finally, we'll come together and discuss our findings as a class.

By these three methods (or four, as my students mentioned watching movie adaptations, as well), the student should have enough information and be prepared to contribute to a larger, societal conversation about the piece of literature.

Here is the handout I prepared for Seniors. I did make it sound more about the "being prepared for college" reason than the "being prepared for contribution to America's collective consciousness" than I stated here. I was still trying to figure things out.

Yes, the bottom refers to a couple of books read in class. More on that later.

Well, it's been six weeks, and though the Freshmen and Sophomores have only done it once, the Juniors have had a little more experience with it, and the Seniors have gotten into a good flow. There are two dates for each book listed on the schedule, a Thursday and a Friday. I give the Thursdays for researching (on laptops borrowed from the computer lab), and on Fridays, we discuss what they found and they each write up a one-paragraph summary.

The research itself was a little tricky to get into, as the students weren't quite sure what they were looking for. We worked up this list together:

The summaries have been rather difficult to get perfect. I'm not sure if it's because it's something they're still not quite used to yet or if I'm grading them too hard.

I did have one full credit paper turned in, and I was so excited, I took a picture that we've used as a model since:

I've also been urging in the direction of a specific format, even though that's something that typically bugs me about teaching writing. (Students should be able to write with their own voice! etc., etc. That's another topic entirely. I digress.) It should start out with the title of the book, the author, and the publication date, then go into just a couple of sentences of plot, and finish up with some historical context. It's not necessary to follow this format, but some of the students found it helpful.

When I grade the summaries, I make some comments about what information could be included or excluded, and they keep everything together in their notes. We haven't had any tests over it yet, but there will be a few little ones where students will need to remember enough key information to write a summary from scratch, and then a comprehensive one at the end of the year.

I'm not sure if I'm going about this in the best way yet, but we'll see how this goes. I'll report back with more information when I have it!

Book Review: Coloring Outside the Lines

I was immediately drawn to this book by Roger Schank upon reading its cover text: "If you want to raise kids with a passion for learning... don't confuse intelligence with straight A's. / don't let your kid become a homework machine. / keep your child away from tyrannical coaches. / don't assume the teacher is always right." This statement seemed right up my alley--a chaotic good approach to the educational system, which I always enjoy.

Well, it was fine, I suppose, just not quite up to the high standards I was expecting.

To begin with, the audience Schank had written for was definitively parents. Well, that's fair. A second look at that same cover text should have tipped me off. No big deal. I'll be a parent soon enough, anyway, and I can always use another resource to point parents in the direction of.

What's more, however, was what seemed to be a lack of content to spark my interest. To be fair, perhaps perhaps it was more groundbreaking when it was published in 2000. Fourteen years is not really that long ago, considering that last year I read The First Days of School, which was 23 years old, but still. And it's not that the age of the book was very apparent while reading (except for the chapter about computer-based learning and some comments bad-mouthing video games), just that most of the ideas he presented were things that I'd already considered or discussed, either here or in college.

But again, more resources to give to parents is always a good thing, so I kept reading.

Schank's main point throughout was to convey six character traits that "smart kids" need to develop while growing up: verbal proficiency, creativity, analytical skill, gumption, ambition, and inquisitiveness. He gives examples of how to bring each of these traits out. (He relies heavily on playing sports as an easy solution, though briefly mentioning how play and non-organized games do this better.)

He also makes a firm stance that parents of "smart kids" should not strongly enforce getting good grades at school, rather to find interests outside of school and pursue them in order to find an area of expertise and niche that will eventually become a unique career.

Here are a few highlights I made while reading:

If you want to know where your child's talents and interests lie, pay attention to his questions. The more questions he asks in a given area, the more likely that's where his passion is and where his career should be. -- p. 16

If you want to raise a smarter, more original-thinking kid, tell them the truth: School is a stupid game, but a good college won't accept you unless you take and do reasonably well on all these math tests even though you know you want to be a criminal lawyer when you grow up. So buckle down and get good grades. B's are fine. But don't think for a moment that your grades have much to do with how smart you are or how successful you'll be in a career. -- p. 19-20

The worst thing you can do to a child with an idea to express is to tell him to sit down and be quiet. -- p. 23

History is ... about putting kids in situations where they have to reason out complex issues and solve problems faced by people throughout history. Role playing and gamelike situations would be a much better way to teach the subject. -- p. 30

...I defined creativity as a willingness to come up with and pursue one hundred ideas knowing that ninety-nine of them are stupid. -- p. 33

Motivation is crucial to developing analytical abilities ... People learn from their mistakes in logic only when it's important for them to get it right. Only then does the analytical process they learn stay with them. -- p. 34

Communicate to your child that you only care about one grade. Tell her something to this effect: "I'm not particularly concerned if you bring home B's in most of your subjects or even if you receive C's in one or two of them. What I do care about is that you bring home one A per semester in the subject you really like." -- p. 39-40

My kids went to bed earlier than any of their friends until just before adolescence. ... This rule in our house ensured that they'd wake up early ... when my wife and I were still sleeping. They were not allowed to wake us up, but they were encouraged to do anything they wanted (except watch television). This gave them a few hours to themselves each day, and during this time they were tremendously inventive. Unable to call friends or play in a group, my children were left to their own devices. My son, who became an urban planner, drew cities. My daughter, who has worked as a professional writer, read books. Though they sometimes played together and acted out wildly imaginative scenarios, they often played on their own. -- p. 45

Learning takes place when people fail at something they're interested in, ask questions about it, fail again, ask more questions, and persist in doing it until they get it right. -- p. 51

Most children (and most people in general) don't ask questions to receive answers. They ask them because they're intrigued, puzzled, and provoked. They want the chance to bounce ideas off an expert, to get some guidance so they can find the answers themselves. -- p. 54

When they're faced with a problem or a challenge, they think, "I know what to do here; I've had this experience before." This cognition isn't always conscious; it's sometimes described as intuition or instinct. ... the more diverse your child's memories, the more likely she is to be reminded of the right memory at the right time. -- p. 64-65

...telling a story forces us to think more clearly. ... Verbalizing stories facilitates the mind's labeling and retrieval process. If we don't articulate our stories, they float unlabeled in the nether regions of our brain and are difficult to retrieve at appropriate times. If we do articulate them, we can readily retrieve an old story that's relevant to a new situation. ... what all children do when they tell these stories is make sense of their experiences. By talking about what took place in their lives--even when they embellish their stories or substitute what they wish would have happened for what really did happen--they acquire usable memories. -- p. 66-69

Older siblings often take the words right out of their younger siblings' mouths. They make it easy for them to talk, and this is one reason that the youngest child in a family is usually the slowest to talk. To counter this effect, spend more time alone with each child. This doesn't mean prohibiting them from playing together. But make sure you carve out time where you have conversations with each child independent of his siblings. -- p. 94

...our minds reflexively erase details when we don't talk about them. When we tell stories about our experiences, however, we embed them in our memories. In effect, we're talking to ourselves as much as to another person. -- p. 95

The philosopher Wittgenstein said, "All creative thought takes place in three B's: bed, bus, and bath." In other words, it takes place when our minds are not focused on an activity, when they're not consciously driving towards a particular goal. ... give small children something "mindless" they can do that will give them the chance to let their minds wander. ... give her a simple task, such as playing with blocks or cutting pieces of paper, that requires almost no thought. -- p. 118-119

Successful entrepreneurs, pioneering scientists, and other high-achieving professionals break the rules not because they're anarchists but because they feel the old rules don't work as well as the new ones they've created. They first evaluate the rules, decide which ones are viable and which ones are not, and invent new ones to replace the latter.  This is the process you need to teach your children... how to break rules intelligently. -- p. 141

...obsessive behavior may not make sense to parents or may seem a big investment in a trivial subject, but it's how kids develop expertise. The well-diversified child simply knows a little bit about a lot of things; the single-minded child becomes an expert. ... Expertise bequeaths self-confidence to kids. When they know a subject intimately, they're much more willing to take risks within that subject area, to speak their minds and stand up for themselves. -- p. 142-143

...it's important to teach a child to aim high, but not too high. A perfectionist mentality doesn't allow for failure, and failure...is a key component of learning. ...model imperfect behavior. -- p. 156-157

One of the biggest complaints of graduate students is expressed this way:" The problem with this field is that all of the answers are known." In fact, there is plenty left to learn in most fields; they simply need to ask the questions from a different perspective. -- p. 173

Responding to an inquiry by telling him to come back later ... devalues a child's curiosity. -- p. 174 (emphasis my own)

Children should see life as a buffet and be encouraged to try anything that interests them. This philosophy helps children find their niche in the world and become an expert at their chosen profession. -- p. 177

What a young person chooses to read often provides insights into a future field of study or a career. -- p. 216

It's always interesting to look back and see what stood out most to me while reading. I really enjoy revisiting my highlights and notes, as it serves as a small window into what I, personally, found most striking about an article or book. (Hmm. This is a thought I've had many times before and might also be something I want to explore more thoroughly later on.)

One overarching concept that I kept pausing to consider throughout the Coloring Outside the Lines but not expressly shown in the highlights is that of expectation failure, the learning that occurs when something fails to meet our expectations. Schank illustrates this best with an anecdote of a small child filled with questions when he meets someone remarkably tall for the first time. This is a particularly enlightening story because the archetypal situation of being embarrassed by a child asking many non-politically-correct questions is so pervasive in our culture. Schank encourages a look into that child's mind. That man doesn't meet the standards of what I've come to expect. I need to ask questions in order to create a new set of standards which incorporates him. 

Also, because I'll be teaching high school English very soon, one passage was insightful to me:

...there's the argument that reading great works of literature elevates children's minds and helps them develop an aesthetic sense. That's true only if the books are germane to a child's life. It's difficult for a fourteen-year-old to appreciate the beauty of a Shakespearean sonnet if he views it as an artifact of Elizabethan England and can't see its relevance to the issues he's facing in his relationships. You can force children to read books, compel them to talk about the issues the books raise and write the proper words about these books on essay tests. But none of this is internalized, and it is forgotten as quickly as it is "learned." ...

Schools should allow each kid in a class to read a different book--a book that that specific child is excited about. The assignment would be for each child to excite his classmates about his particular choice. They would engage in one-on-one discussions with each other, write their feelings about the book for others to read, and so on. The literary qualitites of the book as well as the issues it raised would stick in a child's mind far better than a book chosen because it's a classic... -- p. 26-26

In fact, it ties in nicely with an idea I've been throwing around all summer about how I will teach literature next year. The ideas didn't match exactly, but it was helpful to play around with and encouraged me to make some definitive decisions. More on this soon!

And, finally, I was struck by some interesting concept ideas for schools. I'm very fond of dreaming up ideas like these, so I was impressed when I read Schank's:

The best models for schools are Ph.D. programs at universities. This is one-on-one education at its best, where professors guide graduate students, helping them pursue research on topics that the students have chosen and find fascinating. Rather than lecturing and forcing them to take multiple choice tests, these professors ask provocative questions, suggest different directions, provide feedback, and serve as sounding boards for the students' ideas. -- p. 41

If schools wanted to encourage natural ambition, they would allow children to set goals they really cared about. One student would spend the semester reading every James Bond book. Another would work at mastering a difficult Mozart piece on the violin. A third would spend months in the science lab attempting to produce a complex chemical reaction. A fourth would listen to every Beastie Boys CD and memorize all the lyrics. These goals all flow from a child's interest, and they would be self determined and largely self-achieved (with a teacher acting as a guide and mentor). -- p. 161-162

Ideally the school day would be equally divided into three segments. After working at the computer, the kids would meet and discuss what happened during their simulations. This discussion is important, not simply because it conforms to our learning model (telling stories about one's experiences) but because it can help kids develop new interests or take their own interests in new directions. The one-on-one exchanges between peers--with the teacher acting as a facilitator rather than the font of all knowledge--capitalizes on children's innate desire to talk about what excites them. The final third of the day would be devoted to a real world activity that parallels the subject of the student's computer simulation. If someone did a simulation related to building things, the activity might involve spending some time as an intern in an architect's office. -- p. 227-228

What neat ideas!

In conclusion, Coloring Outside the Lines did provide me with a bit of insight, though it wasn't as full of it as I had hoped. Mostly, it will be a resource to provide to parents. Schank has a number of other projects that might be interesting to look through, including Engines for Education, "story-centered curricula" (computer simulations) for high schools; Socratic Arts, computer simulations for businesses, government, and post-secondary schools; and Alternative Learning, what appears to be a PBL curriculum for elementary schools. More stuff to explore!

Educational Magazines and the Case Against Textbooks

Last year was my first year teaching, and I was pretty lost most of the time. One thing I regret doing was automatically accepting and teaching from the provided textbooks (mostly MacMillan/McGraw Hill stuff). Sure, I improvised when and where I could, bringing in additional material where necessary, but we still did the textbook thing. I promised my principal that we would get all the way through the textbooks, and that we did. I pushed us through.

I'm not sure that the third graders got much from last year and our mutual trudge through Textbook Land. But that's okay, because I certainly did.

Want to know what lesson I learned? It will definitely come as a shock to you. It's this:

Children. Hate. Textbooks.

There, I said it. Surprised, aren't you? 

I know, whatever, Holly, this is a fact that everyone knows. But somewhere along the way, I got caught up in "doing my job" and forgot. So just to make sure that we're all on the same page, I thought it worthy of repeating.

Children find textbooks boring.

Somewhere within the first couple of months of school, the word mundane came up in someone's silent reading book, and we talked about it as a class. Having this word in their vocabulary, my students used this adjective to describe everything we did in the textbooks from then on.

What can we do with this information? We can first recognize that children that are bored or that are forced to do something they don't enjoy aren't learning as much as they could be. I would even argue that they're learning not much at all, or perhaps they're learning entirely the opposite lesson that you wish to convey, such as, "Science is boring and stupid, and I hate it."

Of course, I could use this opportunity to argue that any tool is only as useful as the one who uses it. Perhaps in the hands of a truly skillful teacher, a textbook wouldn't be so bad. But alas, I am not quite yet one of those, and I have the tendency to think that the teachers who use textbooks successfully are in the minority. I could be using this time to research how to properly engage students while also using a textbook, but that seems difficult and... well, kind of traditional and boring. So instead, I'll do what I do best and question the whole system.

Before I left the school, my principal asked for a recommendation on what to do about textbooks and curriculum for next year. Well! That was certainly one document I didn't mind typing up! I'm sure he was actually looking for something along the lines of, "This book is fine, but this other doesn't match Common Core standards. Here's a different one that I found that is CCSS aligned," but that's not what he got from me.

Instead, I recommended purging all textbooks in favor of subscriptions to educational magazines for all students.

There are a number of benefits. We'll start with what will make your administration happy--They are directly aligned with Common Core standards. (They have to be, in order to sell, these days, so that's an easy one.) CCSS urges an increasing amount of nonfiction in the classroom, and magazines provide age-appropriate nonfiction articles on a regular basis. 

On top of that, the articles typically relate in some way to current events, providing a good basis for authentic learning and discussions.

Got digital readers in your classroom? Perfect. A lot of magazine subscriptions can be delivered digitally. No digital readers? No worries, they also come in paper version.

But I think the most important point is that these magazines are specifically designed to attract students' attentions. Most have full color photographs with eye-catching headlines. They use authentic language that doesn't scare students away and also doesn't come off as trying too hard. (I know that in many instances, I tend to shy away from something designed specifically for children, but this isn't one of those instances. These magazines don't come off as patronizing or trying too hard to be cool, at least the good ones. They were designed properly.) As a para, I worked in a few classrooms that used educational magazines, and the students devoured them, cover to cover. Effective, indeed.

Alright, so what magazines am I talking about? Give us some examples. Here are the ones I found, though this may not be a comprehensive list:

• Time for Kids. This may currently be the most widely used educational subscription magazine, at least in my experience. I even remember getting these when I was in elementary school. Full color photographs. Different issues for different grades: K-1, 2, 3-4, and 5-6. Available in print or digital copy. Weekly issues. The content in these magazines is mostly current events, which are usually science or social studies, along with a little bit of fluff. Cost is $4.00 to $4.50, depending on how many copies you buy.
• Scholastic Classroom and News Magazines. (See all available.) A range of magazines for PreK through grade 12. Cross-curricular for younger students. Older students' issues are available for current events, language arts, science, math, fine arts, life skills, Spanish, French, and German. Issues are weekly, biweekly, or monthly. Prices range from $5 to $10 per issue. 
• Studies Weekly. Separate issues for Science, Social Studies, Health, Character Education, Heritage, and Math, and for each grade level, K through 6 (math only available for grades K through 2), though some grade level issues overlap. Color comic-style illustrations with the occasional photograph. Available in print or digital copy. Weekly issues (hence the name). Some are magazine style, others (specifically the older grades) are newspaper style. A specific selling point for this one is how it directly aligns with CCSS. I get the feeling that this one is all pre-written, no current events, and stays the same (or with minor adjustments) each year. So, a textbook with comic book illustrations, in a newspaper format. Huh. Some issues cost $1.75 each while others come in sets, $10.78 for 1-9 copies, $5.39 for more than 10 copies.

The other thing I recommended to my principal was using literature circles to teach language arts. I had an entire cabinet full of sets of books that I never touched, regretfully. 

Literature circles to teach language arts. Current educational magazines the introduce topics in science, social studies, and current events. Student-centered project-based-learning assignments that cover everything else (including math and writing). 

And we're still using textbooks, why?

Lessons Learned from a Summer Workshop

Last week I attended a three day summer professional development workshop series hosted by the state. The theme was supposed to be Common Core State Standards, but I don't think I actually learned much new information about CCSS. In fact, I don't think I learned much that I didn't already know, but a big part of learning, I've always felt, is reinforcement of known concepts, and there was certainly plenty of that. I even reinforced some ideas that I probably wasn't supposed to be getting. But arguably the most important part of the series for me was that it helped to transition by brain from third grade mode to high school English mode, which needed to happen sooner or later.

First, when separated into content and age groups (so I was with more high school English teachers), I was pleasantly surprised to find myself among like-minded people, and that doesn't happen often. One of the first tasks we were given was to separate into three subgroups and rank a handful of classroom activities by how many Speaking and Listening standards they met. The slips of paper were passed out, and I was given small-group discussion (yay!), Socratic circles (eee!), and popcorn reading (oh...). Immediately I ordered them, 1 - Socratic circles, 2 - small group discussion, 3 - popcorn reading. Then I remembered that I actually had a task, and it was to order based on standards, not preconceived biases. Fine. But when I matched the standards to the activities, I found that they actually remained in this order. And when I combined my given activities with the others from my subgroup, they agreed with my judgement, keeping popcorn reading at the bottom. And when compared with the other subgroups, I found that they had all placed popcorn reading at the bottom, as well! Woah. No one had thought that popcorn reading was a useful or effective classroom activity. I was prepared to keep quiet  my dissenting opinion, shying away from hostility, unable to convince anyone because their minds were made up and unwilling to change because that's how it typically goes. I don't want to fight, and the majority of people will not listen to any reasoning that doesn't agree with their own opinions. But I didn't have to convince anyone. In fact, they all agreed unanimously with me before I even had a chance to defend my position!

And in fact, it was a common theme throughout the three days that students should be taught to listen respectfully to arguments contrary to their own beliefs for the sake of argument, finding flaws in their own reasoning or someone else's, calmly realizing when their reasoning isn't sound, justifying their ideas, and peacefully convincing others.

And did I mention the Socratic circles? Nary a presentation went by without Socratic something-or-other being mentioned. We even held a practice Socratic circle in one of the classes, just so that the presenter could be sure that we had experienced it and knew how beneficial an activity it was to students. Because she wanted us to know that the learning students do together in this manner is much more authentic than anything one could teach while standing in front of the classroom.

I'M. SO. HAPPY.

Maybe I've finally found where I'm meant to be. Aaah, the feelings of satisfaction and gratification, they wash over me.

(For what it's worth, I felt this way when I began to get into Montessori, but it all drained out of me the moment I stepped into the training center. This experience has been the opposite--I went with trepidation, assuming that these teachers were just the same as all the other public school teachers I'd met, but was then surprised to find the opposite.)

Why? What could have caused this? Is this how English teachers have been all along? I wouldn't know, since my education was primarily Elementary, and elementary teachers certainly didn't behave this way, giving students so much credit and acknowledgement. Or is it because of Common Core? Is this the way of thinking that one automatically adopts when forced to study these new standards? In adopting CCSS, did we actually convince teachers to teach students how to learn rather than memorize facts?

If this is the fault of CCSS, I've just decided that I love it even more than I did previously.

If this is how English teachers have always been... well, I'm glad I'm finally home.

Moving right along.

Another common theme that was frequently discussed during the seminar was something called Essential Question, a relatively new concept for me. There's a book that nearly all the presenters had and kept referencing. I may read it and explore it further, but briefly, from what I gathered last week, units of study, thematic units, are now based on a broad question that can be connected to many areas of life and are able to be deeply contemplated. Such questions could be, "What is a hero?" or "Who is responsible for public health?" Things that keep students thinking throughout the unit, changing their minds when presented with new information, and possibly ending up with an entirely different answer at the end than they began with. Essential questions can be designed to be used with one class or a whole school, though either way would be interesting to experience. If multiple teachers were on board, they could all bring something new to the discussion, making it that much more broad and deep, but that's not to say that a single teacher wouldn't be able to do a lot with it, too. More research is needed here. I put the book on my library list.

I have a lot of new references and notes, things to explore and look up, but it's all very messy at this point. There's not much I can make of it with the state that these notes are in currently, short of making another silly notes post, but those aren't actually very helpful to me, I've found. So I'll leave it as it is now, sift through slowly, explore as necessary, and report back with anything that require a full length article.

But I'll leave this particular post with the aforementioned reinforcement of a concept I wasn't supposed to be receiving.

For a little bit of context, this seminar series was held in a large, suburban high school. For the first two days, attendees were organized into small groups of 10 to 20 adults, and we moved between classrooms as a group, watching and participating in different presentations, each about an hour long. There was to be a schedule of what group went where at what time, but there wasn't proper communication, and everyone was rather confused, like a pack of new freshmen. We ate breakfast and lunch in the cafeteria and had whole group assemblies in the assembly hall. It was all so very high school.

On top of that, many teachers from my previous school were there, and I... well, though I'm almost embarrassed to admit, but I avoided them. As much as I got along with the other high school English teachers, I didn't sit with them in the cafeteria or assembly hall, either. They had their own schools to sit with, and that was fine by me. No one else from my school was in attendance, and even if they were, I wouldn't have known them well enough to sit with them, probably. So I spent these times sitting by myself, avoiding eye contact with others, choking down the sub par food that was provided, flipping through notes I had taken, reading a book I had brought along--much the way that I spent my own high school (and even college) years.

The third day was to be a work day in which attendees could work with their school and create units or lessons based on what they had learned on the previous days. I was placed in a new group with other solos.

It was fine, really, I'm not bitter about anything, but for whatever reason, I just wasn't feeling it. It happens. We all have off days, and this was one of them for me. I'm not sure if I brought it on myself by having preconceived notions of not getting much out of this particular day or by deciding that I didn't like the way this particular activity was being carried out. I may have, or it may have been a coincidence. Whatever the reason, I wasn't much help to my group, nor did I have much to add in conversations. And I feel like that's not usually who I am. I would typically have had much to add to professional development conversations. One of the rules I tend to live by is, you get out of anything as much as you want to get out of it. I spent much of my school years trying to determine how the information I was presented with applied to my life directly, trying to pry everything I could from teachers and professors, taking ample notes, deciding what information was most pertinent to me, diving deep into concepts, exploring until the topic was exhausted but revisiting when I could apply the information in a new way. I took learning into my own hands and was regarded as a good student. But it doesn't matter what type of student I am or was, because everyone has off days, days where what's happening in the classroom just isn't beneficial to them. And this was that day for me.

I spent the morning quietly, trying to get by saying as little as possible without seeming completely awkward. We separated into subgroups, and mine had an alpha. Usually I feel comfortable in a leadership role, but today, since an alpha was already present, I felt more comfortable sitting back and letting her take over. I did as little work as possible, writing notes to myself as to seem busy.

At lunch, I ate quickly, then headed outside through a side door, not feeling brave enough to avoid eye contact with teachers from my old school any longer. I found a tree to sit down in the shade of and rested there for a long while, enjoying the solitude. Eventually I lay in the grass, using my book as a pillow. Sunlight flickered through the leaves, shining a kaleidoscopic pattern across my face, the summer breeze blew soft music through the blades of grass by my head, and all was peaceful. Time to resume was drawing near, but I couldn't find the motivation to go back inside. This is what my students feel like, my brain told me. I nibbled a patch of sweet grass, feeling young. Time came and passed, and I remained, my skin breathing in the warm air. I examined the empty windows of the school, writing poems idly in my mind, matching words and listening to them flow attractively. It is getting a little hot, I mused to myself. If I go back inside now, I wouldn't have to go straight back to class right away. I could just wander about the school a little until I felt ready. I hesitated, realizing. That's probably exactly what my students tell themselves, too.

I did go back in then, exploring the empty halls until I satisfied. I found my classroom an hour past time, my "classmates" still working away on the project they had been at before we left, though I was still unable to concentrate on what I was "supposed to" be working on. My brain had a new concept to play with, or rather an old concept to revisit.

Hadn't I decided long ago that if someone chooses not to participate, that's alright? There's no way to force him to learn, and forcing him to do an assignment just makes him frustrated. It's not the end of the world, and it's much more respectful to leave him to sit quietly, as long as he's not disturbing others. A cursory glance through the articles I've written tells me that I never actually wrote about it, though maybe I overlooked it. I remember the exact moment I first had this thought, watching a teacher fight in vein with a child, back when I was a para. Somehow in my first year of teaching, this memory must have left me. I was in survival mode the whole year, after all. Nowhere to go but up. Surely I can learn from my mistakes, and I vow now to give my students space when they need it, recognizing when they're having trouble connecting to an assignment and allowing them time to decompress when necessary.

So, ultimately, it was a beneficial third day, though the lesson I learned wasn't quite the expected one.