Authenticity in Fiction Reading
Throughout this program, my conception of the student-teacher relationship has evolved. In order to teach effectively, the teacher must relinquish some of her authority in the classroom and be open to the co-construction of meaning. As Campano argues, “Learning from the students involves remaining open and willing to incorporate their ever-evolving experiences into the class, however unpredictable or at odds with the school’s agenda or my own preconceptions” (2007, p. 112). This is not an easy thing to do. Maintaining control over the class affords certain benefits, primarily that it makes it easier to assess whether the objectives you set out to achieve were indeed met. However, taking an inquiry stance implies that the goals I set for my students’ learning may themselves have to be flexible, as well as the means of reaching them.
For example, during my unit on To Kill a Mockingbird, I taught a lesson on otherness (below).
For example, during my unit on To Kill a Mockingbird, I taught a lesson on otherness (below).
We started this lesson by listing the characters from the novel that might be considered “others,” as well as the the reasons that made each one different. After that, we read Tusk, Tusk (right), a picturebook by David McKee about black and white elephants who get along with other animals but hate each other. As tension mounts, some peace-loving elephants (both black and white) escape deep into the jungle to wait out the impending war. After all the black and white elephants have killed each other, many years pass before the descendants of the peace-loving elephants emerge from the jungle. They are gray. Everything is wonderful until the elephants with small ears and the elephants with large ears start to give each other funny looks.
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Tusk, Tusk
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Throughout the reading of the story, the students were engaged (reacting out loud to the characters and plot by asking questions, interjecting opinions, and offering advice), and afterwards we had a lively discussion in which we brainstormed different factors that contribute to otherness. In addition to the factors present in the two texts we were looking at, my students came up with factors such as socioeconomic status, values/beliefs, and “location” (where one is from), no doubt drawing from their own experiences of the world. My objective for the lesson was for students to be able to identify what constitutes being the other, in order to analyze how compassion applies to the characters in To Kill a Mockingbird. Students achieved this, but I wish I had been more receptive to the experiences they were bringing to the conversation. The culminating activity was for the students to write a letter from the point of view of one of the “other” characters, explaining how it felt to not fit in in Maycomb society. More effective in garnering student empathy for the characters, I believe, would have been to have them instead write about their own experiences of otherness and determine which character’s otherness was most like their own.
In light of this, and though I did not realize it at the time, a critical incident occurred for me during the sixth week of my fall English methods class, in response to a Schoenbach et al. reading on reading for understanding. Here is the response that I posted to the class's Canvas discussion:
In light of this, and though I did not realize it at the time, a critical incident occurred for me during the sixth week of my fall English methods class, in response to a Schoenbach et al. reading on reading for understanding. Here is the response that I posted to the class's Canvas discussion:
From the Schoenbach article (1999), I’m interested in the various strategies we might take to improve important and often neglected literacy skills as they apply across subjects. The Schoenbach article stresses that, while teachers are often inclined to forego difficult reading material to “focus on content,” doing this denies students the opportunity to develop the critical skills necessary to access “gatekeeper texts” that will either open doors or shut them later on. Obviously, if students aren’t used to reading anything, there may be something to be said for introducing reading into the curriculum via easier, or more entertaining texts (YA fiction, for example). But how do we start to incorporate “dryer,” more academic reading that is relevant to the themes that may arise from the more accessible reading? In my observations this week, I saw what seemed to be a pretty unsuccessful use of primary source documents in a U.S. history class. The teacher had the students read the Articles of the Confederation and then answer questions on a worksheet, which included straightforward questions like, “What type of document is this?”, as well as more open questions, such as, “Why do you think this document was written?” Students were told to work in groups, but for the most part students worked alone and there was not much interaction. This got me thinking about possible better ways of introducing such materials. For example, it might be better for getting students engaged with the text and each other to have each of the groups learn one or two of the articles and then present them to the rest of the class. Would divvying up the material in this way be a “cop out” in terms of the amount of challenging material students are asked to work with?
I see now that the main problem with my response is that I apply, albeit indirectly, the need to teach what are essentially efferent reading skills to the reading of fiction. By providing YA fiction as an example of something that does not need to be read from an efferent stance, I seem to imply that more challenging fiction, or canonical works, should be read efferently. Looking back on my lesson plans throughout the semester, I realize that I have inadvertently been taking such a stance (and encouraging my students to do the same) toward works like Of Mice and Men and To Kill a Mockingbird. Both works are certainly more challenging than the YA fiction I refer to in my post, but not to the point of making them inaccessible from an aesthetic standpoint.
While it is true that the ability to decipher challenging texts is an important skill to have, we have to consider our objectives in having students read each of the texts we assign them. What do we wish for them to learn that can be applied to their lives beyond the high school classroom? Though there is a case to be made for taking an aesthetic stance toward history, in a social studies class like the one I describe in my post, efferent skills are important for understanding and analyzing historical facts and their contexts. This understanding is necessary for the life of civic engagement that social studies classes aim to prepare students for. More and more, I am starting to think that reading fiction in the secondary classroom is itself an opportunity for authenticity. If one of our goals for our students is that they become lifelong readers, then reading fiction from an aesthetic stance most closely resembles how they will encounter fiction in the future. Furthermore, such a stance is consistent with the type of resistance that Campano describes as conducive to inquiry. As Campano suggests, “our efforts to expand time and open up opportunities for reflection, creativity, and bonding with our students may radically interrupt the institutional drive for efficiency and standardization” (2007, p. 116). This shift in my thinking about not only how, but also why we teach fiction in school has strongly impacted my plans moving forward.
While it is true that the ability to decipher challenging texts is an important skill to have, we have to consider our objectives in having students read each of the texts we assign them. What do we wish for them to learn that can be applied to their lives beyond the high school classroom? Though there is a case to be made for taking an aesthetic stance toward history, in a social studies class like the one I describe in my post, efferent skills are important for understanding and analyzing historical facts and their contexts. This understanding is necessary for the life of civic engagement that social studies classes aim to prepare students for. More and more, I am starting to think that reading fiction in the secondary classroom is itself an opportunity for authenticity. If one of our goals for our students is that they become lifelong readers, then reading fiction from an aesthetic stance most closely resembles how they will encounter fiction in the future. Furthermore, such a stance is consistent with the type of resistance that Campano describes as conducive to inquiry. As Campano suggests, “our efforts to expand time and open up opportunities for reflection, creativity, and bonding with our students may radically interrupt the institutional drive for efficiency and standardization” (2007, p. 116). This shift in my thinking about not only how, but also why we teach fiction in school has strongly impacted my plans moving forward.