From the Literature Institute 1999
By Terri Sasaki
Campbell High School
“When I wake up in the morning, I feel like a melted popsicle, refrozen.”
—Reiko, Koloa Elementary School
I dream in color of a morning when I wake up to walls brought to life with rich, literary responses and quotes, where faces on literary journeys encircle my classroom, where the bell rings but my students haven’t heard it over their excited discussion about yet another piece of literature (and I would just hate to interrupt them). I am relieved to share that I did have glimpses of this in my room throughout the years I’ve been teaching. Yet, there were times when my students felt that they were doing so much, that they weren’t really sure about what they were learning. My nightmare and confession: at times, neither did I.
I realize now, upon reflection, that I had once learned, and still know in my heart, many of the things we have read about and done in these past two weeks. Before now, I don’t think I was experienced enough to assimilate and apply effectively the theories I had learned to what I was doing in my class. It just didn’t “feel right” when I tried. Thus, my struggle. I do know what will shape literate learners-reading, writing and talking about literature. I know they need time to read, time to write, time to talk and the skills to do so. I’ve wrestled with providing appropriate and useful literary experiences, identifying and helping the students meet the standards, as well as assessing and evaluating these in a fair manner. My greatest challenge had been creating and committing the time it takes to engage students as literate, critical thinkers and life-long learners in the midst of all we were required to do as educators.
I was drowning in the details of assignments, giving points for trifles, teaching more skills than content, and not always in the context of literature. As Beers reminds us, “skills alone do not produce readers” (110). Her article, “Choosing Not to Read: Understanding Why Some Middle Schoolers Just Say No,” describes the downward spiral of aliteracy: “the less students read, the poorer readers they become. The poorer readers they become, the harder reading becomes for them” (111). She quoted C. Huck, ‘If we teach a child to read, yet develop not the taste for reading, all of our teaching is for naught.” What I have learned is that an avid reader is one who can read, reads, and makes time to read, because he or she enjoys reading. These students then become skilled readers. They become literate. And isn’t this our goal as English teachers?
Learning about distinctions Beers made for the different types of readers really caused a meltdown for me. I experienced first-hand what she meant. When I was a child, I loved books and loved to be surrounded by them, I was an avid reader, reading anything from cereal boxes to comics to novels. In my sophomore year in high school, I loved reading to the point where I would stay up until 5:00 a.m. every morning barely getting my Algebra II homework done for (what Kathy P. would refer to as) the P-school summer session. Needless to say, I earned a “D” for the course; however, I memorized Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 116” by heart. And to this day, I know it, by heart. I had to question why I don’t consider myself an “avid” reader now. I still read and write, but I don’t feel or wouldn’t consider myself at this point in time (a wife, mother of two- and three-year-old children, living in a messy home, department chair) an avid reader or writer. I was turning into a “dormant” reader.
Then, when I read the article by Louise Rosenblatt, “Literature-S.O.S.!,” I understood that I was being more of an “efferent” reader (I’m probably an efferent” writer, too)-the non-literary kind, the reading-for-information kind. I would read educational theory and resource books, parenting and toddler activity books, students essays and journals, while I was writing memos, meeting agendas, vocabulary quizzes, student status reports, progress reports, etc. (I know, fellow teachers and lovers of literature, that you get the picture.) Thus my meltdown-I want and miss reading and writing aesthetically, for pleasure. And the scary part was my epiphany that I was becoming like my students, who were too busy to make the time to read, too busy to appreciate and talk with other people about literature. Too busy to be life-long, literate learners.
So when I taught, I found myself frozen-paralyzed by the emphasis on basic skills, teaching literary elements, the content we have “to cover”, an “under construction” set of language arts standards, the accommodations for special ed students, etc. (Again, you know what I mean.) How could I make the reading of literature like the experience of eating crispy M&Ms or chocolate raisins (once you have one you have to have more)? How would I entice my students into my library to sneak a peek at all the tasty literary treats I (and many others) have enjoyed?
I didn’t realize how much I haven’t been reading aesthetically until I read Ellen Foster, Blu’s Hanging, all the poems and short stories for this course. Since I was immersed in literature, I started to speak with “the poets or writer’s tongue,” and to subvocalize the sounds of what I was reading. So, (light bulb/ epiphany) is this what happens with our students who are dormant readers—that when they do read, they assimilate what they read, and more importantly the language that they’ve used? Jan Furuya pointed out with her poetry lesson, and Alice Kimura showed us with her students’ responses to literature, that yes, this indeed happens with immersion and over time.
Thus, I thank Jocelyn and Kathy for immersing me in not only theory, but literature, so I could experience and believe for myself what I want for my students: a love for reading, writing, talking, and learning. In this model of . undirected discourse,” where the teacher is the guide, the facilitator as Patrick Dias describes it, there is a direction and structure which I can follow. The pattern of reading, writing and talking about literature repeats. First, students read and work through their initial understanding or impressions through at least two or more encounters with the text, usually through writing. Once these thoughts are recorded, students are given opportunities for talk with partners or groups. And then, the sharing as a class is the extension, where students participate in a community of minds to discuss universal or common conclusions and implications raised in the text. This seemingly “undirected discourse” did certainly have direction, and I can sometimes be a part of it.
What an excellent choice I made signing up f or the Hawaii Writing Project Literature Institute! Here I am with all of you- reading, talking, thinking and writing about literature, eating, sharing, laughing, crying and just truly enjoying myself. I’ve had a taste of different flavors to add to my class for future years: strategies for reading, ideas for responding, ways for assessing, hints for managing, The result; hope for me as a teacher, and ultimately, hope for the future of my students. Thank all of you mentors for sharing your knowledge, your lives and your visions with me, as we all strive to enrich our students’ lives with literature. I owe my thawing to you:
