When I first learned to read, I consumed books voraciously. I was on a first-name basis with the town librarian, Grace, and I would check out stacks of books as tall as I was. I can still picture the stool in our old library where I would stand to watch Grace stamp the due date onto my checkout card. My books were never overdue because I was always ready for a next stack just a few days later. In these books I discovered the wonder of Terebithia and fell in love with Teddy in Emily of New Moon. Through Number the Stars I learned about the plight of the Jews during the Holocaust, and after A Wrinkle in Time I found magic in everything around me. I'm currently reading Kelly Gallagher's In the Best Interest of Students. I like this book for several reasons. It gives easy-to-implement strategies, and it also philosophically addresses the strengths and weakness of the Common Core State Standards (CCSS) for Language Arts. Right now I'm reading about the writing standards, and it got me to thinking. I think our world needs more stories. One of the limitations of the CCSS is the lack of emphasis on narrative. According to David Coleman, one of the authors of the CCSS, people in the world don't value what we think or feel. Coleman writes, "What they instead care about is can you make an argument with evidence, is there something verifiable behind what you're saying or what you think or feel that you can demonstrate to me." Hence, the complete lack of attention on narrative reading and writing in the Common Core. I'm afraid that's a grave mistake. I posted earlier this fall about my attempts to teach my students to argue rather than rant. I agree that it's an invaluable skill in our world. We need to be able to back up our claims with evidence. I will not discredit the importance of argumentative writing and powerful nonfiction reading. However, doesn't it seem like our world is a little too caught up in being "right" rather than listening empathetically? Story changes the world. When I first read The Kite Runner, the only encounter I had with real-life Muslims was random interactions with a couple of students in college. Then I met Hassan and Ali. I wept during the difficult moments of that painful story, and I realized that friendships in every religion require great sacrifice and redemptive forgiveness. Before I read Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, I didn't fully understand what life would be like for a teenage victim of rape. Then I experienced life through Melinda's eyes, and it changed the way I view the reticent, hidden girls in my classroom. Holden Caulfield taught me about nonconformity, and Ed from Markus Zusak's I Am the Messenger made me want to dramatically impact the lives of those around me. I learned about bravery from Auggie in Wonder, and I will never be the same after walking in the shoes of Scout Finch and Owen Meany. Story changes us. Gallagher touches on this in his book, focusing on children's development of "theory of mind," or ToM, "a person's ability to understand the emotions, thoughts, beliefs, and intentions of others." Experiments by David Comer Kidd and Emanuele Castano (2013) proved that ToM is directly related the building of empathy and is fostered through fiction, particularly literary fiction. If I want my students to change their views of the world, we must be engaging with rich, meaningful stories. This happened in a minor way on the day after the election. To be completely honest, I toyed seriously with calling in sick on Wednesday. I was heartbroken and raw, and I didn't know how I could function in my classroom. But I did, and during English 2, we talked indirectly about empathy. We discussed the slut-shaming of Curley's wife in Of Mice and Men, a character we know little about. My more astute students picked up on the fact that she is never even given a name, instead referenced only as her husband's possession. Before my students left my room that day, some expressed a bit of sympathy for her isolation on the ranch, and others agreed we should never judge a woman's character based on what she wears. I could have given them a nonfiction article on the same topic, but story did the work more effectively. So that's where we go. In American Novel we are diving into To Kill a Mockingbird where I will once again try to help pull back the lens of gender bias and racism to reveal more understanding. In English 2 we march forward with Of Mice and Men where we will talk openly about our treatment of the marginalized and those who are "othered." And in their independent reading I will push students to read texts that make them think, that create the opportunity for empathy. Today this is how I try to change my world.
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Well, I did it. I was scared, and I couldn't predict the outcome. But still, I did it. Last Friday in my American Novel class, we talked about racism. But we didn't just talk about racism in Tom Robinson's day because we had just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Instead I took my class, part of a student body that is 98% white, out of their comfort zone. This conversation followed on the heels of my introduction to this article, explaining the strong need for anti-racist curriculum in our schools. I knew that if I wanted to be an ally, I needed to use my position as a teacher, especially in a context as rich as Mockingbird. To be honest, I've been scared. This is a hot-button issue for me, one that hits close to home. I didn't know how I would react when brought face-to-face with the biases I knew many of my students cling to. Because I wanted the conversation to be perfect, my answers to be articulate, my fear caused me to avoid the issue. I was weak. Sure, we had short conversations in passing and I passed along articles to students in emails and as comments in journals, but I had never centered an entire lesson about the ways that racism exists today. That changed last week, though, at the prompting of my principal. He observed me lead a class fish bowl discussion towards the end of our reading of Lee's classic novel, and in his observation notes, he wrote, "This novel gives great opportunities to connect with current thoughts/situations dealing with discrimination and prejudice. What have you done to discuss these connections?" The answer was nothing, and I felt deeply convicted. I tucked away my fear and dug right in the next class period. First, we read this article that introduced the students to the concept of racial bias and microaggressions. We needed to read the examples and learn the lexicon that could help us in our Socratic Seminar for the day. I gave students time to read and process. Next, I introduced the question: How is racism today different from racism during To Kill a Mockingbird? This group can sometimes be reticent during discussion, but on this day they opened up. From the inside of our little homogeneous bubble, many of them admitted to being surprised by the statistics about job searches and housing and poverty. "I had no idea that you would have a harder time just getting a job interview if you were black," one usually shy girl announced. Another boy astutely observed, "I think people like to read books like Mockingbird because then they can say, 'Well, at least racism isn't as bad as it was then.'" Their eyes were being opened. Finally, I zeroed in on our own microcosm. "How do you see this play out in our school?" I asked. I asked knowing that for the past several years working in a school with very few minority students, I have watched the "token" black or Hispanic student be made into a stereotype. I watched as the lone Asian student was expected to always do well in math and science and was teased mercilessly if he didn't know an answer. I stood witness as the lone Hispanic boy laughed unconvincingly as other students joked with him about stealing cars and crossing the border. I was a bystander as a biracial student begrudgingly accepted a nickname that focused on her hair, an aspect that made her "other." Last week I watched as another black student half-heartedly laughed along as a classmate proclaimed in the hall, "Oh, it's just because you're black." One young man in our discussion that day bravely pointed out that the students laugh to minimize differences, that in a school like ours, we try to make racial differences a big joke. I prodded them. "What do we do in moments like these? What if the minority student is laughing along? Is the joke acceptable then? Why are we comfortable being bystanders?" Students told of a jazz band competition where a clinician used the derogatory term "retard." These students were shocked, but of course the man was in position of authority over them, so they remained silent. I don't judge these students for their silence. I've obviously been silent, too. But the question remains: How can we ALL do better? This time we had the conversation. We scratched the painful surface and sat in our discomfort. It wasn't a perfect conversation, and I was frustrated at some of their answers and preconceived notions. And like many conversations like this, we presented more questions and provided few answers, but still we talked. Even now the topic settles here in my classroom, like a dust we can't escape, one we shouldn't escape. Studies show that children as young as four are noticing and sorting according to differences. Our seemingly innocuous "colorblind" approach is clearly not working, especially in places like my current school where we have few minority students. As a parent and an educator and a human, I implore my fellow parents, teachers, and humans: We must have these conversations. We must talk to our young people about race. Our country's problems will not go away with silence. Decades of proof stand in testimony to that. It might not be perfect, and it might even be scary. We might not get the results we want. But we need to open the dialogue. Let's start today. Part of my English 2 curriculum includes reading from independently selected reading books during the beginning of class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. (Tuesdays and Thursdays are reserved for class journals.) Because I want students engaged with these texts, I also periodically have them create something associated with their selected books. Last semester it was an idea borrowed from Lessons with Laughter and this Highland Virtual Learning Wikispace. My students created book trailers in an attempt to "sell" their book to other readers. We used Animoto (with the educational license) and went through a production process together. Here's the handout of instructions that I shared with my students. After their trailers were complete, students created and printed QR codes for their trailers and celebrated together by watching their classmates' projects. Now their books and codes are displayed outside my classroom in our class "Readbox." Students were engaged and committed to their learning during this project. Not only did they walk away with a greater understanding of their books, but they also learned more about the art of persuasion and the importance of tone. Additionally, they have another technology tool to use in the future. We did this project the week leading into semester tests, so the timing probably wasn't the best. I'm proud of their efforts, though, and I love having the colorful display outside of my room. This is definitely a project I will use again in the future. Here's Marilyn's book trailer for City of Bones. Here's Emily's book trailer for Paper Towns. Here's Jeremiah's book trailer for The Kill Order. Nov. 21: List a book you are thankful to have read and how it have inspired you to be better at what you do.
Several years ago I picked up Markus Zusak's I Am the Messenger at a chain bookstore. It transformed the way I view young adult literature. Prior to this I had read several YA novels, but this book moved me in a way I cannot fully articulate. I grew so attached to Ed and his friends. I cried and laughed out loud. In a way the concept reminded me a bit of Amelie, one of my favorite films. Honestly, the book made me itchy to impact the life of the heavily-pierced checkout girl at SummerFresh, to spread some random joy to the Spanish-speaking janitor who washed my board each day, to climb into the skin of my most angst-filled students. Over the span of several weeks, my worn copy became a read-aloud for my 10th grade English students. They, too, were eager to start a new chapter each day, to find out whom Ed would help next. They, too, were enchanted by the working-class voice of these characters whose lives, in many ways, mirrored their own. Like me, they melted when Ed and Audrey shared their dance. This book sparked a fire for reading in many of my most reluctant readers who didn't know that a book like that even existed. I Am the Messenger made us a reading community. When we finished, we sent Mr. Zusak an email letting him know just how much we loved the book, how we thought it would be perfect for a movie version. Their pulsing excitement when he kindly replied to our email was palpable. The flame for reading grew, for them and for me. And I learned the powerful lesson that the right book in the right hands can change the world. |
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