The first thing I notice when revisiting my old blog posts is that my attitude toward my students seems to have shifted slightly.  I haven’t done a 180 as a teacher, but my perspective has changed a bit such that I’m willing to give my students the benefit of the doubt more.  In my first blog entry, I focused on my students’ weak reading comprehension skill s, but through assigned readings, class discussions, others’ comments, etc. I’ve started to see my students as able readers (though perhaps unpracticed in the “traditional” methods of literary analysis).  I hope I can maintain an open mind as I continue teaching—especially as I expect there will be many times when I’m frustrating and/or overwhelmed.

Another common characteristic of my blog entries is that I’m always searching for practical applications:  How can I use this concept or approach in my classroom?  (Hence my appreciation of Linkon and Blau and my frustration with Gee.)  On several occasions I go on tangential explanations of how I might incorporate the ideas I’ve read about into my own classroom lessons (with Krik? Krak!, Things Fall Apart, All Quiet on the Western Front, etc.).  I’m always on the lookout for new and better ways of presenting/discussing the literature I teach.  Part of the reason for my “practical application radar” is that I like to simplify complex concepts/texts, summarizing the main idea or reducing many ideas into the essence of the argument.  For example, in Blau’s TLW, I had to keep a list of the best ideas I came across, and then I had to reduce the list even more when writing my blog.  (A second and perhaps equally valid reason for my quest to find practical applications is that I’m in grad school to become a better teacher, and when I write those painful tuition checks every semester, I like knowing I have at least a handful of new ideas to bring into the classroom.  Maybe not the most selfless motivation, but it helps alleviate the financial pain.)

On a related note, I noticed that I’ve made lists in some posts.  This doesn’t surprise me because I’m generally a list person, but what interests me is that the blog lists seem to be a way for me to wrestle with information overload.  As I just said, I like to have a handful of ideas to take away from each reading, but on the occasions when I feel I have fewer ideas (as in the case of Gee) or more than a handful (Blau), I need a way to process that information.  I recently asked my students to make a similar list after reading a play.  They were to list everything they had learned throughout the unit about themselves as readers and/or about how to read literature (not about the play’s plot).  Some students had long, unwieldy lists of rambling thoughts; others were short bulleted lists of single words or short phrases.  I’m even more fascinated by the idea of lists now.  I’ll have to keep my eye on this.

The last thing that really jumped out at me is actually very simple, but it took me a while to notice that I was noticing it.  When I write, I refer to the text—both general assertions made by the writers and specific quotations with page citations.  I read through my entries several times before realizing that this common thread ran throughout all of them.  When I first realized what I was seeing, I thought, Obviously I refer to the text.  That’s what good readers/writers do.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized there’s a lot behind referencing the text—a lot of skills, values, and assumptions that my students do not necessarily have.  To me, going back to the text is a method of validating my own ideas (even when they are in disagreement with those presented in the text) because I have a point of reference, a passage I can point to as evidence when developing my thoughts.  I would write more about referencing the text, but the last thing I noticed is that I always go WAY over the word limit.  (Clearly I have no self-control when it comes to spouting off my own ideas!)

So to sum it up, I think I’ve learned a lot more about HOW I think/process/respond to texts than about WHAT I have to say.  I was worried that all I would do as I reviewed my posts was cringe at my stupid ideas, but the things that jumped out at me most were process-oriented tricks or tasks that I don’t really even think about as I’m writing.  In short, I can definitely see the benefit of having students perform this kind of writing audit (be it based on reading logs, essays, or any other type of writing).

I have really enjoyed Blau’s book, especially because of its practical applicability to me as I brainstorm new lessons and approaches to reading and writing. My thoughts are, as always, a bit scattered as a I work to make meaning of all that I’ve read (there’s a lot to take in!), but here are a few things that jump out at me:

–Reading logs as preparation for class discussions: Students don’t realize it, but if they have an opportunity to jot down ideas before being put on the spot by the teacher, they are so much more likely to have formulated a thoughtful response to what they’ve read. I’m sure we’ve all experienced the (many) moments when we call on student after student and no one seems to have anything to say about a passage that is overflowing with material for analysis. I really like the reading log idea because it helps prepare students to make thoughtful comments in class, but I’m still working through practical applications of this practice in a high school classroom. I like the idea, and would like to implement it in some form, but a reading log audit would be a bit of a stretch for my sophomores—and I simply don’t have time to collect and read the logs regularly.

–Students revising their initial impressions based on input of others: This concept fascinates me. I love doing group annotation activities (“silent conversations” as I call them). I ask kids to annotate a poem or passage; they then pass their papers around in a circle, each making one or two comments about, in response to, or against what the original person wrote. By the end of the exercise, the students’ initial ideas have usually changed, extended, or been reinforced in a stronger way. I’m thinking now of asking students to write a reader response journal to a poem/passage, and then, when they bring it in to class, have them read and respond to their own writing (and then possibly have others provide input as well). The students would then go home and revise their original response. I think my students would really enjoy this activity, especially if I give them freedom to be creative in their presentation of the information (different colors, fonts, etc. to demonstrate their thoughts at different times). I enjoyed the Think Aloud analysis we wrote for this class for similar reasons. It’s refreshing to color outside the lines every once in a while.

–Questioning the thesis-proof essay model: I see Blau’s argument and I agree that in “the real world” of writing there are few circumstances that call for such an essay style; however, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that we, as high school teachers, have to prepare students for standardized tests (SOLs, SATs, etc.) that require these cookie cutter formulas. I would love to use some of Blau’s suggestions, but I just can’t see how I can add them in to the already overflowing curriculum I’m up against. I think the best I can hope to achieve is a balance between thesis-proof essays and other, more open styles of literary analysis. Even if I start with only a handful of such activities per year, that’s a step in the right direction.

After reading only a few chapters of The Elements (and Pleasures) of Difficulty, I realized I had become a bit cynical. Sure, I thought. The students described in this book are willing to do the difficult work required of careful reading. My students are not. As a rule I dislike cynicism (Sidenote: anyone catch Conan’s comments re: cynicism last night? So refreshing!), so I was disappointed to find myself already questioning the relevance of these concepts to my classroom. (I was also disconcerted by the repetitiveness of the writing—not to mention the incorporation of definitions such as simile and personification—and I must admit it took me a while to get past these venial flaws.) It seemed at first that the discussions and activities presented in the book would be well over the heads of my students; however, as I continued to read, a few ideas have jumped out at me. In fact, I just finished Chapter Five and now have a new appreciation of the concept of difficulty (and its relevance to my students). I actually had to force myself to put the book down and begin this blog while my thoughts are still fresh (albeit a bit scattered).

Although some of the book’s activities may be better suited to an undergrad class, there are certainly basic concepts that relate to high school students such as I teach (sophomore “honors” students who are generally less than prepared for the rigors of an honors curriculum). Recently I’ve been mulling over the dilemma that confronts me daily: my students are in an honors course, yet they lack the foundational skills necessary for reading carefully (if at all), making predictions, and drawing relevant inferences. In short, their reading comprehension skills are nonexistent (or atrophied from lack of exercise). The idea of engaging with a text is foreign to these kids. They expect to be able to do one quick reading (those who read the text at all—others opting for the quicker fix of consulting SparkNotes) and understand everything. Obviously they’re missing the point.

Issues of enrollment aside, I know I need to meet my students where they are and provide support to help them move forward as readers. The concept of embracing difficulty as “a rewarding path to knowledge” (back cover) may be a bit too much to ask, but I hope to be able to encourage the kids to view their difficulties as opportunities to enhance their understanding of a text, not as impermeable barriers to comprehension (a la Kim Woomer’s comments regarding “difficulties” and “obstacles” on page 2). I anticipate my attempts succeeding with the students who are actually interested in becoming better readers, and I suppose I’ll just have to tolerate the apathy of the others.

The section in Chapter Five about Krik? Krak! fascinated me. I haven’t read the entire book, but some of my undergrad classmates used it for lesson planning activities, so I was familiar with it. After reading the three difficulty papers presented about KK, I immediately flipped to Appendix D to read “Night Women” and “Between the Pool and the Gardenias.” I really enjoyed both stories and am already tossing around thoughts of how to incorporate excerpts from the book in my class. Due to a combination of factors (the recent earthquake in Haiti; the fact that my students are currently learning about the Haitian Revolution in the history half of my World Civ course; and the fortuitous coincidence that I have a few days to spare in my lesson plans), this would be the perfect time to study selections from KK. My ideas are all abstract at the moment, so I’d appreciate suggestions from others. I plan to pick up the book later today and (if possible) read it this weekend. I hope to find a story or two to use with my classes. I’m envisioning an annotation activity where the students color code their reading difficulties (i.e. red=unknown word, blue=I don’t know what this sentence means, green=what does this have to do with the story? and so on). My students generally do well with annotations, but I’m not sure how they’d handle monitoring their reading and stopping so often to make notations. In any event, I hope to sort out a plan in the next couple of days, as I’d like to do the lesson on Tuesday or Wednesday. And as I said, all input is welcome!