Reading for pleasure?

Over the last week, I have been thinking a great deal about my students and their relationship with reading. This was prompted by the discussion on the benefits and drawbacks of reading quizzes we had last Tuesday in class. I don’t want to focus on “required” reading for class, but rather reading for pleasure, which, unfortunately, seems to be a contradiction in terms for some of my students.

One day a week my school has a special schedule, which allows for half an hour of SSR (Sustained Silent Reading) for everyone, teachers included. As long as the students are reading, they may read anything they want: books, magazines, newspapers, anime etc. All teachers have class libraries so students who forget to bring something have a choice of reading materials. Although we urge them to read something at their reading level (so, no Cat in the Hat), we don’t tell them what to read.

Some students relish the time to read, and others cannot refrain from talking, sleeping, writing notes, in short, doing anything but reading. It amazes me that some students cannot find anything to read for fun or pleasure. I have asked my sophomores what they like to read (or what they have read and enjoyed in the past). I have used their reponses as a guide to enriching my classroom library. Still, there are some students who refuse (or pretend) to read. Does the fact that they have to read for half an hour once a week sap the “pleasure” from the reading? Is it impossible for them to read surrounded by peers who are doing the same thing? Is reading, even for for pleasure, less important that sleeping or writing to their friends? Is it the timing (Friday right after lunch)? Is it the age of the students?

Admittedly, I have some data for assessment (what I have observed), but I have not asked my students these questions directly. I know that’s where I should start. And I’d love to hear from those of you who have ideas or suggestions or observations regarding SSR that support or refute mine.)

Realism/Idealism

This week brought shocking news: in all probability, the school at which I teach will be closing at the end of the year due to lack of funds. The school has been under-enrolled from the start (three years ago) and the school building, which we rent, is being sold and we don't have the money to buy it. (I should explain, for those of you who are confused, that I teach at a charter school.) The fact that I was stongly considering not returning in the fall (primarily because of the 40-minute commute each way) didn't lessen my surprise and disappointment upon hearing the news.

The students and my colleagues reacted very strongly and with a range of emotions: shock, like me, sadness, anger, resignation, but also a strong sense of determination. The day after the news broke the faculty met to discuss how to best support the students in dealing with their emotions, but also in finding each of them a suitable school for the fall. Early the same day, a group of students met to plot their own strategy. Emails were sent out (to friends, former teachers, rich celebrities and the media) to spread the word and request money. These kids weren't going to let the first school at which many of them felt at home just close down. And if it was, they weren't just going to sit around and wait for the last day of classes to come around.

I was so moved and impressed by how deeply the students took the news and how swiftly and idealistically they mobilized. When I was asked what I felt and thought about the situation, I faced a dilemma. On the one hand, I thought that all of this effort was probably for nothing (the building is worth several million dollars, which would have to be raised in only a few weeks and celebrities don't just give money to kids because they ask nicely, do they?) and that after all their hard work the students would be terribly disappointed if they didn't save the school. But on the other, how could I give up all hope, if only for the sake of the students.

It occurred to me that I have never given up on a student. There is a chance that even the worst behaved or weakest student will turn things around and improve. I wouldn't be a teacher if I didn't have hope. But there was more to it than hope. I would be a hypocrite if I taught students about a single person's power to change the world, and tried to convince them that social justice began with them, and yet didn't let them try to put what they had learned into practice. Even if I was less idealistic than them in this case, I couldn't let them know it. My mission would be to do what I could to help them achieve their goal (and help them find another school for the fall, just in case), provide them with any resources I could, and be there to celebrate or commiserate with them in the end.

Diversifying instruction

Although enlightening and inspiring, the articles by Bro and Brimijoin et al. raised some questions for me. I see fully the necessity and benefits of diversifying instruction. What I am not clear on is how to avoid pigeonholing students into thinking of themselves as particular types of learners. As Bro notes on page 85 (quoting Freeman and Freeman), “students who are labeled “begin to see themselves as labeled.”” As teachers, how do we support the needs of all of our students without giving them the sense that they cannot master certain skills? For example, how do we allow students who are shy and prefer to demonstrate their understanding in writing the right to listen during class discussions, yet encourage them to take greater “risks” in this area as the semester/year progresses? Furthermore, what can we do to help our less vocal students meet the required “speaking” standards?

I was impressed by how smoothly student self-assessment, teacher formative assessment and instruction are combined in Ms. Martez’s classroom. As a sophomore teacher, I wonder how open 15-year-olds would be to being divided into three groups according to their learning style or level of mastery. Perhaps I am being cynical, but wouldn’t many of them they choose what they perceived as the most fun activity, or choose to be grouped with their friends? It seems like a very effective system; I just do not how I would make it work in my classroom.