Situated Perspective

What the heck is "situated perspective"?  Great question. I'm not sure, but I'm trying to puzzle it out.

I'm reviewing an article called "Not Just for the Primary Grades: A Bibliography of Picture Books for Secondary Content Teachers."  This was published in the Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy in 2001.


The writers of the article, and there are a whole passel of them, list a boatload of picture books that would work well in high school content area classrooms (for my non-teaching friends, this means core subjects -- math, English, science, social studies).  There are so many titles -- sidebar after sidebar of titles -- that I want to run, not walk but RUN, straight to the library and check out armloads of children's books. But alas, it's Memorial Day, plus it's raining, and I'm a wuss.

So, back to situated perspective.  Near as I can tell from the article, students learn better in a "situated perspective," and this occurs when:

• the ideas are grounded (still not entirely sure what the authors mean by that, but best I can tell, it has to do with bringing lofty ideas down to a place where they can be understood); I'm having a really good chuckle right now. I need the authors to provide a "situated perspective" for me so that I can understand what they mean by "situated perspective."
• the ideas are relevant
• kids can personalize the learning

All of this magic, they say, can be facilitated by using picture books.

I'm especially intrigued by that last bullet point. The authors say that kids personalize learning when they meet characters in a story. Isn't that a cool thought? That learning is connected to meeting people? 

I'm reminded of a lesson earlier this year. My AP Lit kids were reading Going After Cacciato. At the end of the unit, I invited a friend who had served in Vietnam into my classroom to talk about his experiences. He shared openly about his fear, about meeting his future bride, and about his love for both America and the people of Vietnam.  The conversation moved my students deeply. For the remainder of the year, they brought up his visit often. Through meeting my friend, they understood many of the difficult concepts in the novel in a permanent, impactful way.  Perhaps this was a situated perspective?

It would seem that it's possible to open up kids' minds and help them learn when they meet new people smack dab in the middle of the process. How simple to make those introductions with picture books.

(High school teacher friends, check out the article. It lists dozens of relevant picture books by subject area, along with helpful tips on how to use them.  Shoot me a reply and I'll get you more information.)

The "Look"

I have a children's book on my coffee table right now called The Royal Kingdom Presents ... The Letter Writing Book.  I feel like trumpets should blare every time someone reads that title.  Can I get a "Ta-dah!"?  One of the things that's super cool about it is its footprint. That sucker is at least 10" x 18"!  It's one of those books you have to move your head up and down and back and forth to read. It's gi-normous!

My son-in-law was at my house Saturday night. He picked it up and said, "I LOVE THIS!" I said, "Brian? You've read The Royal Kingdom Presents ... The Letter Writing Book?" He replied, "What? This book? Oh, no. It just reminds me of these huge coloring books my parents got me when I was a kid. I loved those."

And then Brian got a dreamy look on his face. And his body went quite still for a moment. And I could see that he went somewhere else for a minute or two.  Then I announced that dinner was ready, and he sprang back to my living room.

Oh-please-oh-please ... I want to see that look on my students' faces over and over again. Better yet, I want them to know they can go to that still, quiet place inside them whenever they want to.  Just by picking up a children's book.

Can I get a "Ta-dah!"?

Familiar with these?

Donalyn Miller, reading teacher guru, sings high praise for these books. If you've ready any of them and think they would be useful for high school intruction, please reply.

In the Middle, Nancie Atwell
Guiding Readers and Writers (Grades 3-6): Teaching Comprehension, Genre, and Content Literacy, Irene Fountas and Gay Sue Pinnell
Mosaic of Thought, Ellin Keene and Susan Zimmerman
Yellow Brick Roads: Shared and Guided Paths to Independent Reading 4-12, Janet Allen

Why not high school?

I'm reading a nice book about literacy instruction. It's called Literature is Back!  Fuhler and Walther's enthusiasm for literacy instruction is infectious.  I want to try out all of their ideas tomorrow, as well as immediately place the world's largest book order for the literally hundreds of fabulous-looking titles they recommend.

In chapter one (okay, I haven't gotten all that far), they write, "[Childeren's books] are perfect vehicles for teaching primary, elementary, and even middle school students the essential skills and strategies that successful readers and writers employ" (9).

And being the nerdy English teacher that I am, I most heartily agree.  Yes.  Most definitely.  Amen.

But why, oh why, stop at middle school?  Why do they caveat their assertion with "even middle school students?"  I have found that using children's books, particularly picture books, with my twelfth grade students of every conceivable reading ability is wildly successful.

Case in point ... here we are at the end of the school year, so I'm surveying my students, as I always do, for their favorite book they read in my class. The survey shows them how much they read (a LOT!), and I use their input to inform some of the following year's book choices and instructional methods. 

Number one choice, hands-down favorite?  Macbeth. And that winner plasters a grin on my face because I'm so proud that my students loved something difficult, something with seemingly little connection to their own worlds.

Number two choice, across the board?  The Giving Tree.

I rest my case. And I lament that there's not near enough research to show high school teachers how or why to use picture books in their classrooms.

And that's where you and I just might come in ...

Utterly Bizarre, Completely Wonderful

Tales from Outer Suburbia ... check it out.

The Intersection

Yesterday, I sent my colleagues an email to ask if anyone uses children's books in their classrooms. I got yeses from six English teachers, one math teacher, and two ESE teachers.  And my school's resource specialist asked if I'm giving away free books. Uh ... no.

So I'm curious about two things ... first, why I didn't hear back from any reading teachers (probably busy reading!) and second, how these teachers use the books. I'm going to go check out their classrooms in the fall and soak in their goodness.

Why Read Children's Stories

In The Book Whisperer, Donnalynn Miller lists ten reasons why adults should read childrens' books. Here's one reason I really like:

It's often inspirational -- reading about heroes and bravery and loyalty makes you want to be a better person. And couldn't we all do with some of that?

Amen.

She also describes the sensation of remembering "the child you once were when you first read a book." I think she's on to something here.  A sad truth of the human condition is that our innocence, somewhere along the way, was utterly and irretrievably lost.  The Biblical account of the garden, serpent, apple ... it's in our DNA.  We can, each of us, easily recall the time when the magical, iridescent trust that all is good and full of possibilities disappeared, just as it did for Adam and Eve.  Into its place came that sensation that literary analysts call loss of innocence. It shows up in literature the world over.  We cover up, we hide, we feel shame.

But reading a children's story evokes the sensation of hope and peace that we felt before that ugly realization that all is not well with the world.  There are other ways to achieve the same sweetness -- blow bubbles with a baby, bike in a downpour, inhale deeply as a cake is coming out of the oven -- but reading a children's book just might be the best, most lasting way to return to the innocents we once were.

And couldn't we all do with some of that?

Only a Witch Can Fly

I read Only a Witch Can Fly yesterday while I was blow-drying my hair.  (Doesn't everyone read while they are blow-drying their hair?)  My dear friend gave me a STACK of children's books for my birthday, and I'm ever-so-slowly working through them, savoring them one at a time like rare and precious treats. And indeed they are.

So about this witch flying business ...

I didn't like this book. The title intrigued me, while at the same time, the rational, objective (boring) side of my brain chimed in not-very-helpful thoughts, such as "Nuh-uh. Birds can fly, too.  And airplanes with competent pilots.  And, anyway, I don't believe in witches." Boy, I bet I was a delight to my teachers.

But the thick, dry paper beckoned, as did the illustrations that evoked very fond memories of Tilly Ipswitch, a much-beloved book circa 1972 (not exactly sure, as I can't find it on amazon).  The little witch in Only a Witch does wear super-cute striped stockings and her spotted kerchief is pretty much adorable.  And too, I love Alison McGhee's repetition of sky, moon, velvet, fly, bat ... as well as her wispy swirl of plot and imagery, very much like her "smoke rising up like a plume" after our little witch's unsuccessful first flight. Was I reading a poem? A song?  A story? Or the best ... a dream-like curling up of all three?

Our girl in the story, though, well ... she's out of bed and in her yard in the middle of the night.  Her little brother is up with her, and the cat, too.  Weather conditions and Halloweenish critters seem perfect for a nocturnal journey.  Eventually, kerchief girl achieves her goal.  And her parents and cat and little brother all seem pretty pleased with her feat, judging from their sweet, astonished smiles. 

That's nice. I guess.  Maybe I'm just too grown up.  I'm imagining too many kids begging for brooms and dragging their younger siblings into the yard in the middle of the night. And glaring at their cats for their inability to purr "Look at the star" or "Poor you, poor, poor" or "Soar."

I'll try this one again in October with a cup of hot tea and an imaginative five-year old. I bet it will go better.

Reading Calms Me

I hopped in my car after school today, and pushed "play" on the audio cassette. I'm listening to Bailey White's novel Quite a Year for Plums.  I love White's eye for details; her sweet, scratchy southern voice; and her delight in the absurd.

Reading ... well, it immediately calms me. I set aside the worries of today, and more importantly, the worries of tomorrow. No panic over ungraded papers. No anxiety about visitors.  No self-recriminations for not going for a run this morning.

The same thing happens in my classroom. I take out a book to read out loud, and my students calm.  Bodies slouch in desks, mouths hang open, and eyes half shut.

Why is this so?

I don't know why reading calms ... but I am grateful.

First Favorite Book

My first favorite book was Eighteen Cousins. The central character is a little boy who visits a farm -- only to find eighteen cousins following him and looking at him everywhere he goes.

I don't know why I loved the book, why I asked to have it read to me over and over, why I couldn't wait to be able to read the book all by myself.  It's true I liked to be alone, as did the little boy in the story until he finally gave in and let all eighteen cousins be his friends. And, it's true, I'd never been to a farm, but like the boy, I found peace in the sky and trees and animals and landscapes -- and thinking.  Still do.

What's also true is that this book was my first book. I can't remember any other story preceding it.  Perhaps for that reason alone, it was my favorite.

And that's reason enough.