SlICE OF LIFE #3/31- I LOST THE INSTRUCTION MANUAL

I lost the instruction manual. You know, the one the hand you when you have kids (or in my case, adopt kids), with a chapter on what you should expect at each age. What problems you might encounter. How you should respond.

I used the manual when I needed to talk to little league football coaches. Because even though I am a really strong, capable woman, talking to male coaches kind of feels like a dad job. But we don't have a dad at our house. So I consulted the manual and I did ok.

I used it when the boys started middle school. Such a weird age. Kids growing into themselves. Struggling to fit their new bodies. Trying on new personalities. Preying on each other. Sometimes being just plain mean. I used my manual those days when I picked up my guys, and their shoulders were slumping, and I could tell that the world of tweendom had been just a bit much. The chapter on listening helped a lot then.

I used the manual when the boys were ready for driver's permits. I drove them to drivers' ed, handed over my keys so they could spend the day on the road course, and smiled bravely as I said, "Have a good day, sweetie." I consulted the manual again in those first days when I was driving with them. And did the best I could be quiet and let them steer their way toward independence. The chapter on keeping your mouth shut and letting kids learn from their mistakes was really good.

But now, in these last couple of months, I seem to have lost the manual. Teen #1 hates school, spends most of his time in his bedroom, seems to have lost his passion for the things he has always loved most. Teen #2 has had a girlfriend for fourteen months, a delightful young woman that I adore. When he is not with her, he plays video games online with friends. The boys talk to each other and to their friends, but not to me.

And I wish I would find that manual. I need the chapter on how to advise your fifteen year old about his girlfriend, who now has his last name as hers on his facebook page. And the one that tells you what to do to support your teenager as he prepares for his senior year and leaving home. And the one that tells you how to talk to them when they respond with little more than monosyllables and grunts. I really need that manual. Because I miss my guys.

SLICE OF LIFE #2/31

It's March 2nd, Dr. Seuss' birthday. We didn't celebrate at my school this year- too busy with another "special event." Other years, though, I have been at schools where we have done it up big- every class decorated their door like their favorite Dr. Seuss book, people from the community came to read, big kids read to little kids, Dr. Seuss art projects and readers' theaters. At one school, every class came to the cafeteria for birthday cake. Not sure how much it actually did toward helping kids become better readers, but it was definitely big fun…

Dr. Seuss holds a special place in my heart, because HOP ON POP is the first book I can ever remember being able to read. Do you remember the last page? The one with the big yellow circle and the streams of words in red letters? I remember, so clearly, laying on my stomach on my bed, in my pink bedroom on Chelton Road, and being able, all of a sudden, to pick out the individual words in that circle. And taking it to my mom and showing her that I could read. I had other favorite Dr. Seuss books- GO DOG GO (Do you like my hat?), GREEN EGGS AND HAM (I do not like them Sam I Am!), ARE YOU MY MOTHER, HORTON HEARS A WHO, and THE SNEETCHES, but HOP ON POP will always hold a special place in my heart.

I began teaching in the days when teachers spent hours and hours and hours putting up bulletin boards. The summer before I started teaching first and second grade at Boston Primary School, I spent the entire summer, I think, coloring a gigantic Pat sitting on a cactus (No, Pat, no, don't sit on that!), the Sneetches, Sam I Am, and the Cat in the Hat. The first day, we made Cat in the Hat puppets, and little booklets from the "No, Pat, No!" section of HOP ON POP. The second day, I think, we cooked green eggs and ham.

Now, almost 30 years later, I've taught hundred and hundred of kids. I've fallen in love with thousands of authors. I've probably read a million books aloud to kids. This fall, I spent a lot of time in a first grade class, with a teacher that I'm mentoring. And I read those six-year-olds HOP ON POP and GO DOG GO and GREEN EGGS AND HAM. We made Cat in the Hat puppets and did readers' theater. We cooked green eggs and ham. Because some books should be rites of childhood.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

SLICE OF LIFE #1

We are in the final sprint before our state's blessed event, and on Friday, I was calm, secure, relaxed (or kind of anyway) thinking that the fourth graders were as ready as they were going to be. I decide that we will do one last prompt, a persuasive letter to convince people that students at our school should/should not wear uniforms. The format is similar to one we have used five or eight or ten times this year-- pick a side, choose two or three reasons and support them with a solid argument.

Mondays are often rough at our school and today is no exception. The kids have been noisy and restless and argumentative. It's hard to get everyone settled for quiet writing, even after read aloud, which is usually their favorite time of day. I crouch next to J., generally a fairly proficient writer. Today J has written a decent introduction, but has then gone on to make a list:

Reason #1: Kids like wearing their own clothes.

Reason #2: Uniforms would cost too much money

Reason #3: Uniforms would be ichy (itchy)

She is up to reason #5 when I arrive for the conference. There is no supporting evidence or details for any of her reasons.

Most of the time, I am pretty good at conferring with young writers. I know that kids generally have a reason for what they do, and I try to explore and honor their intentions. When a kid seems off track, I generally say something to the effect of "Tell me about your piece…" Today, however, is not one of those times.

"What are you doing?" I say, in a tone that is probably more than a little accusatory. "This is a just a list of reasons." (Please note that several months ago, lists were pretty much what they wrote in persuasive pieces and we have worked long and hard to get past that place, especially with writers like J).

J looks up from her writing with more than a little disgust. "You said seven reasons," she says disdainfully. "I can't write that many arguments in one day."

"I said to think of several reasons. Several is two or three."

"No, it's seven, several is seven," insists J.

"I'm sure it's not sweetie. Several means two or three. Do you want us to look it up?"

"No. Do I have to start over?"

"You don't have to start over. But you do have to pick two of these reasons, pick your two favorites, and develop them into paragraphs."

J looks at me with more than a little disgust. As I walk away from this less than successful conference, I hear her say to D, who sits next to her, "I am sure several means seven. She just doesn't know."

At some level, I think J might be right. There are days, lots of them, when I just don't know…

THE TROUBLE WITH CHICKENS- DOREEN CRONIN

J.J. Tully is a retired search and rescue dog, planning to enjoy his retirement resting and relaxing on a farm. He is less than thrilled, then, when Millicent the Chicken (who J.J. calls Moosh) and her two chicks, Dirt and Sugar, approach. It seems Millicent's other two babies, Poppy and Sweetie, have gone missing, and Moosh wants to hires J.J. (for the princely sum of one cheeseburger) to solve the case. J.J. soon discovers that the chicks are being held by house dog Vince the Funnel (so named because he has chronic ear infections and wears a cone on his head)…

Kids, (think good second grade readers, typical third, or struggling fourth or fifth graders) are going to love this illustrated easy-to-read chapter book mystery series by much loved author, Doreen Cronin (CLICK, CLACK, MOO and DIARY OF A FLY series). Really funny, with humor that is sophisticated enough that fourth graders won't think it's baby-ish, loveable characters, and lots of twists and turns in the plot. I read this on NetGalley, so now I have to go buy it, so I can share it with kids.

REFLECTIONS FROM ANOTHER WEEK

"So what do you think we should do tomorrow?" the fourth grade teacher asks as we consider the next day's writing workshop. He glances down at the plan we made three weeks earlier.

We are two days away from the big event (which shall remain nameless) and writing instruction has reached what feels like a fever pitch. We have written and written and written to prompts- one pagers, four pagers, narrative, description, persuasive, favorites…The kids have done it all.

"I don't know," I respond, "Let me look at today's writing and think about it tonight."

That night I read through the stack of 30+ four-page (ok, many three page) essays. The prmpt was to write about something they had learned to do.

• A remains enamored with Robert Munsch. Every day he does some weird twist on the Munsch theme, repeating phrases, putting his own name into Munsch's stories, adapting Munsch's stories just a bit so that he can call them his own.

• K writes a beautiful story about his older sister (who passed away in a car accident 18 months ago) teaching him to ride his bike. Midway through the story, however, he switches narrators from first person, where he is telling the story, using the pronoun I, to third person, where he uses his name as a character in the story.

• M loves dialogue. The piece she wrote about learning to cheerlead is so dialogue heavy that it's hard to follow what is going on.

• Many of the other students are also using dialogue. Reading through their work, I decide that teaching kids to punctuate dialogue is somewhat like teaching long division. There are a million different ways you can get it not quite right.

• Yesterday, during our skills block, the teacher reviewed contractions. Today R writes yes, ye's.

• We have also been reviewing nonfiction text features. Today Q decides to use subtitles instead of transitions in her fiction piece.

• Z and P both write pieces that are absolutely beautiful for about a page and a half- great lead, dialogue, rich details. Then, evidently, they get tired or run out of time, and cram the middle and end of the piece into one paragraph using none of the tools that they have displayed earlier.

• K writes about learning to play the saxophone with his mother. The piece rolls along beautifully for about a page, to a point where K is talking about one of the songs he and his mother taught themselves to play. At this point, for whatever reason, he decides it would be a good idea to include the full text of the words to the 16 line song.

• S, who is one of the best writers in the class, writes a three paragraph conclusion. Basically she just repeats herself, juxtaposing the sentences in three different ways.

So what am I going to teach them the next day? I riffle through the stack of papers again and decide to get up early and think about it in the morning when I am fresh. By the next morning, I have decided. I will teaching them nothing.

We have written and written and written all year. We have taught and taught and taught all year. At this beginning of the year, these kids usually produced about a half of page of text. They didn't know anything about a lead or a conclusion. They didn't write with details or dialogue They didn't use paragraphs.

And now they are using all of those writers' tools. Granted, there are a lot of approximations. It's not perfect. But they are experimenting, and growing and writing their way towards becoming proficient writers. And basically, their growth as writers has been phenomenal.

And so, during the mini-lesson, I tell them that. I leaf through the stack of papers, acknowledging all of the good stuff I saw last night. I tell that every single kid wrote to the prompt. Most kids gave their work a title. I read them three different kinds of leads. I share several really terrific details and examples of dialogue. I admire the circular endings that several kids have chosen to use.

And then, I review how to punctuate dialogue. And I send them back to their seats. To write. To experiment. To grow. To learn. Because that is what writers do.

And if they are not ready by Tuesday…

DO YOU KNOW WHICH ONES WILL GROW? by Susan A. Shea, illustrations by Tom Slaughter

REVIEW COPY PROVIDED BY PUBLISHER

I love books where kids have to think a little before they make predictions about what will come next.

I loved Q IS FOR DUCK.

I loved TOMORROW'S ALPHABET.

The kind where kids are sitting on their knees by the second page, dying to see the pictures so they can predict what will come next.

DO YOU KNOW WHICH ONES WILL GROW is another book I'm going to put into my "predict-a-little, think-a-little, kids are for sure going to love this one" category.

The first two page spread is an introduction:

If you look around

you'll see,

Some things grow,

like you and me.

Others stay the way

they're made,

Until they crack or rust or fade.

Do you know which ones will grow?

Think, then answer,

YES or NO.

From then on, each half of two page spread contains a couplet.

The left hand page is a living thing,

the right hand side is non-living.

If a cub grows

and becomes a bear,

Can a stool grow and become…

Now, here comes the really fun part, and the part I know that kids are totally going to love. Each right hand page is a fold out, where you have to lift a flap to see the answer. And each flap is a different size or opens a different direction. The flap on the stool page, for example, lifts from the middle of the page up, and the stool becomes a chair.

Another one of my favorite pages:

If an owlet grows

and becomes an owl…

Can a washcloth grow and become…

(Pretend you are lifting the full page flap that's attached at the top)

a towel?

Tom Saunders' illustrations really complement the text. They are bright colored and eye catching- simple shapes placed on top of other shapes, in kind of a collage-ish effect.

You could use this book as an introduction to a unit

on living and non-living things.

You could use this book for teaching reading strategies. It'd be a great book for teaching readers how to cross-check pictures against beginning sounds.

You could give it as a baby present.

Or you could just read it aloud.

Because it's way fun.

And kids are going to love it.

SOME OF MY OUT OF THE BOX THINKING FOR THIS WEEK

On Friday, Mary Lee had an amazing post about thinking out of the box. If you haven't read it, hop right over to Year of Reading and do it now. Really. Be sure to take the six minutes to watch the video. It's amazing.

Mary Lee's video and the accompanying poem gave me a new lens for thinking about an event that had occurred on Thursday in a class that I was working in:

I've been fussing a lot lately about how important it is to have a solidly grounded, theoretically based teaching philosophy and to make curricular and pedagogical decisions based on those beliefs. In a few less words, "I believe X, so I do Y." When I do that in my own teaching life, that's when kids learn best. Take this situation from last Thursday, for example.

I am working with the fourth graders on writing fiction, specifically, writing fiction to a prompt. Many of my students come from homes where lots of stories are told, but few come from homes where many stories are read aloud. I try, then, when I write narrative, and particularly fictional narrative with kids to read them lots of great stories. One of my favorite authors for this is Robert Munsch. Munsch was an oral storyteller before he was a writer. Munsch's work is sophisticated enough that older kids enjoy the content, and his writing style is easy for them to imitate. Munsch draws heavily on the the traditions of oral storytelling, e.g. things that happen in threes, events that repeat three times, repeating phrases. Because he uses these tools so masterfully, they are easy for kids to recognize and duplicate.

A. approaches at the end of independent writing time. He is a sweet, sweet guy, an English Language Learner, who is super eager to please. When he came to fourth grade, A rarely wrote more than a paragraph. The writing was simple, the language was simple, and his use of conventions was simple. A is a kid who has really taken off as a writer, however, in the past few month. He regularly writes two, and occasionally even three well-developed pages during writing time. He knows how to use several different leads, including a question, a sound effect and what we call "setting the scene." He uses what we call "rule of three" (have three events, add three details to make a picture in the writers' head/give three examples to support your thinking). He can write dialogue, and punctuate it pretty close to correctly. He knows how to end a piece without saying, "And that's the end of my story." Most importantly, he can evaluate his own work, and tell you what he has done well, and what he wants to do on the next piece of writing.

One thing I know about A, however, is that he is not usually a writer or learner that grasps a concept or technique on the first try, or often not even the second, or third. Usually A needs to approximate, get feedback, approximate again, get more feedback, approximate, and get more feedback. It takes him four or five or ten tries. A is persistent, however, and eventually, he gets the hang of whatever we are working on.

Today, A can't wait to show me what he has done during writing time. The prompt was to imagine you woke up with a new body part, e.g. antlers, or a giraffe neck, or wings. A. has taken Robert Munsch's story, PURPLE, YELLOW, GREEN, about a little girl who begs her mom to buy her markers, first washable markers, then smelly markers, then indelible, never wash off until you're dead and maybe even longer markers, and basically inserted his own name into it. He's used Munsch's details and even his language. He tells me that he is going to have himself draw bunny ears on his head, but at this point, he is almost two pages in, and has not yet reached the prompt. That's a teeny bit of a problem given that the assigned length for this story cannot be any more than four pages.

We are at the point in the year where we have four teaching days until kids have to be able to show that they are proficient writers. And when I look at A's piece, my heart jumps into my throat. A four page piece that has not hit the prompt after two pages is probably not going to cut it. I take a deep breath. I remember what I believe. I try to practice what I have preached.

First, I acknowledge what A has done. "Wow, A, you really loved that Robert Munsch story that we read today, huh? And you have used his ideas and his words in even your own work." A beams from ear to ear and has to read the piece aloud to me again, just so I can get the full effect of Munsch's words in his story. I make myself breathe deeply again, then I try to honor A's approximation, "I love how you listened during the mini-lesson and how you used Robert Munsch's thinking to help you write your own story." A is still beaming, and again has to read me several lines lifted pretty much directly from Munsch.

Then I provide feedback to push A forward. I gently remind him about the prompt we are writing to. He tells me that he is going to use Robert Munsch's markers to draw bunny ears on his own head and talk about what a day would be like with bunny ears. "Ohh, I get it," I say. "That's a great idea." We talk a little about balance, and about how the beginning probably can't be quite as long as Alex has made it, and about how the people who grade prompted writing need to know pretty quickly that you are writing to their prompt, and then A., still smiling goes back to work some more on the piece. He is still incredibly pleased with his efforts, and I'm not totally sure he has heard anything I have said. I'm thinking he will draw the bunny ears on himself pretty soon, but either the piece will be four pages and be totally beginning heavy, or he will have a six or seven page story, that's way too long for a prompted writing.

I make myself take a a few more deep breaths. And try not to think about how much more teaching will need to go on before A. is proficient at using this technique vs. how many days we have left before he needs to be proficient. A is becoming a proficient writer. Whether it takes three more days or three more weeks or three more months, I need to keep doing the same things Don Graves taught me to do a hundred years ago. Listen to the writer. Celebrate the message. Honor the approximations. Think about the one thing that will help the writer move forward. Teach that one thing. And then send the writer back to learn from his/her writing.

Teaching should not be about trying to cram children into little boxes. Teaching should be about celebrating who children are as learners, and honoring who they are becoming. However long it takes.