The Book Whisperer
Page 9
READ -ALOUD FAVORITES
Fiction
ELEMENTARY
Each Little Bird That Sings, by Deborah Wiles
The Sixth Grade Nickname Game, by Gordon Korman
The SOS Files, by Betsy Byars
The Word Eater, by Mary Amato
INTERMEDIATE
The Beasties, by William Sleator
The Underneath, by Kathi Appelt
The Schwa Was Here, by Neal Shusterman
Seedfolks, by Paul Fleischman
The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan
Memoirs
ELEMENTARY
Guts, by Gary Paulsen
Knots in My Yo-Yo String, by Jerry Spinelli
The Tarantula in My Purse, by Jean Craighead George
INTERMEDIATE
My Life in Dog Years, by Gary Paulsen
Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio, by Peg Kehret
How Angel Peterson Got His Name, by Gary Paulsen
Building Background for Genre
As part of their education as readers, it is necessary for students to learn the common language that readers speak when discussing and investigating books. I frame instruction and discussions all year long around genre, the formal categorization of books. Some students are not familiar with the term, but they understand the difference between fiction and nonfiction and that books can share character types, plotlines, and settings. These story elements have been covered in classes before, but I am expected to revisit them, according to state standards.
Rather than force students to endure a boring rehash of information that they have learned previously, I use what students already know to build an understanding of how these elements differ across genres and how characterization, plot, and setting are used to classify books. Through class discussions, we develop guidelines for identifying nonfiction, too, exploring what types of information are provided by biographies or informational books, as well as text features and formats. Because most of my sixth graders have yet to be introduced to memoir, I find that this is a good time to introduce it; I define a memoir as an autobiography that focuses on a specific period in the author’s life. Poetry I save for last because it does not clearly share the structure of other genres and has its own unique elements. I start our investigation of genre the same way each year because that allows me to assess students’ prior knowledge of literary concepts and, at the same time, lay a foundation for future reading based on genre requirements. I need to get a feel for what students already know before we can move forward.
Genre Sets the Stage
With a pile of books in my hand and a grin on my face—a sight that will become all too common to my students as the year progresses—I call out to them, “Ladies and gentlemen, get out your genre notes so that we can talk about fantasy.” Students pull out their genre notes, where they record the characteristics of each genre as we explore it, and find the heading for the fantasy section. “Keeping in mind our conversations about characters, what do we already know about the characters in fantasy books?”
One student claims, “Well, most characters in fantasy books are wizards or witches like Harry Potter.”
“I agree that if a book has a wizard or magic user in it, then it has to be fantasy, but do all fantasy books have these kinds of characters? Can anyone give me an example of a book that doesn’t have a wizard in it, but is still fantasy?”
Several students provide examples of books with realistic settings and characters that contain magical events, such as Tuck Everlasting and The Word Eater. This leads to another heated discussion about whether books that have talking animals in them, such as Charlotte’s Web and Redwall, are fantasy or not. We decide they are. I dash off as many of my students’ ideas as I can onto chart paper, all the while urging students to avoid generalizations by staying away from words such as all and every when making their suggestions. Because twelve-year-olds can still be fairly literal, I explain that there are subtle distinctions even within a genre.
I remind them, “Honestly, fantasy books could have any type of character you could imagine, including everyday people, but what we are looking for are character types that cannot occur in any genre but fantasy.”
We eventually decide on some broad character types that earmark a book as fantasy: magic users, talking animals, and mythical creatures. During this conversation, we have discussed scores of books and even some movies in order to provide evidence that supports our opinions. Students may not have had enough reading experiences to illustrate the genre discussion with book examples, but they know stories. Basic story grammar is found in the movies and television shows they watch, too. Encouraging students to give examples based on any knowledge they have, not just from books, prevents the avid readers from dominating all of the early discussions we have about books and shows students that I value what they do understand. This practice provides yet another inroad to meeting students where they are.
Moving on to discuss the settings and plotlines common to fantasy novels, we add these characteristics to the list. Over the course of two weeks or so, we investigate all of the genres in our class library and create lists of the elements of each. We also review characterization, plot, setting, text structure, and figurative language. We talk about how time travel by magic determines that a book is fantasy, whereas time travel by means of advanced technology renders it science fiction. We debate whether historical events have to be the center of a plot to make a book historical fiction. New terms such as anthology and novella arise naturally from these conversations, too. We talk and talk about books.
Through these conversations, I am able to assess my students’ prior knowledge and reading experiences. Melissa’s notes from this series of class discussions show how these conversations shaped her understanding of the characteristics of each genre (see Figure 4.1).
While we create definitions, we also look at stacks of books to determine whether students’ knowledge of the characteristics of each genre can help them determine a book’s genre when previewing it. Understanding the basic structure and plotlines of different genres helps students choose books and make predictions while reading. Students without a reading identity, who do not know enough about books to know what they might like to read, gain a greater understanding of the kinds of books available to them, too.
Identifying Books in Each Genre
In order to move our discussions of the characteristics of individual genres beyond a merely academic exercise, I expect students to be able to apply what they have learned to books they may not have read. Our classroom library is organized by genre, and I want to know whether students can use their understanding of genre to select books in our library and make assumptions about what each offers to readers.
A few weeks into our unit on genre, students walk in the door to find several unmarked tubs from our class library waiting for them at every desk group.
I lead them to today’s topic by sharing one tub of books with them. “In this tub, I have several books that are from the same genre. As I read to you the teasers on the backs of these books, use your notes and our class discussions to determine which genre you think this tub contains.”
FIGURE 4.1: A Student’s Notes on the Characteristics of Genres
Source: Melissa, grade 6.
After students determine that the books in my tub are realistic fiction because the events, settings, and characters seem plausible to them, I direct their attention to the tubs on their desks: “Now, I want you to work with your table groups. Use your knowledge of genre characteristics to identify the genre of the books in the tubs on your desks.”
Engrossed in note taking and previewing books, students dig into the tubs at their desks. Two girls in the back of the room wave me over to serve as mediator. Their group is at an impasse and cannot agree on which genre their plastic tub contains.
“We think the books are historical fiction because the back covers of different books mention historical things like Ben Franklin
and World War II, but Stacy and I do not think that the boy in this one was a real person from history.”
Cody, a member of the group, chimes in: “Ben Franklin was a real person, and World War II really happened. These books are informational.”
I guide them back to our class discussions: “Well, what is the difference between an informational book and one that is historical fiction?”
Cody asserts, “We don’t know if this boy was made up; he could be real.”
I urge the group to use their genre notes as a checklist to see whether all of the books in the tub have elements of historical fiction or elements of informational books. Determining whether the events and people in every book are real is the deciding factor here.
Cody lost the battle; the girls were right. Foster’s War, by Carolyn Reeder, clinched it. After deciding that despite the World War II setting and plot events revealed in the teaser, the protagonist, Foster Simmons, was a fictional character, Cody grudgingly agreed that the tub they were previewing was historical fiction. He did not really lose. I saw him ease the book into his desk later.
This hands-on session allows students not only to reinforce what they have learned about genre by applying what they have learned to real books but also to preview a lot of books and become acquainted with the layout of the class library. Following this exercise, I always notice how many books disappear out of tubs and into desks, to be checked out later. As the culmination of our genre unit, I give the students a practical exam. Each student is given four books, and he or she must identify the genre of each. I rarely find a student who can’t identify the genre of most of the books.
In a few short weeks, the groundwork has been laid for our reading year. Students have settled into the routine of reading each day and have a reading plan based on broad requirements for self-selected materials. I have built students’ background knowledge of a wide range of genres and authors, and they know that I value their book choices and celebrate any reading they do. What I do and what they do wraps around this structure and provides a base for the reading, writing, and response activities at the next level of our workshop.
On the Same Page: Keeping a Reader’s Notebook
Because every student in my classroom is reading her or her own book, I must converse with each of them in order to determine their progress toward reading goals and give them the individual support they need. I cannot wait for weeks to discover that Danny is not reading or that Kaitlin abandoned her last four books. If I waited for the products of our reading activities such as book reviews or independent strategy practice to discover that some of my students were struggling to read their books or understand them, it would be too late. Through conferences and reading response entries, I assess whether students are enjoying their books and comprehending them. This exchange between my students and me has a common jumping-off place: our reader’s notebooks.
The reader’s notebook we use, a customized version of Fountas and Pinnell’s Guiding Readers and Writers (Grades 3-6), is a seventy-page spiral notebook with photocopies of charts and lists trimmed and glued into the front. The notebook has several sections for recording students’ reading activities:
• Tally list: This page is divided into columns for the genres and number of titles I require students to read. Students tally the books they have read as they go, and I sign off on any genre requirements that they complete.
• Reading list: This list is where students record all of the books they have read or attempted and abandoned. Each book’s entry includes the title, author, date the book was finished, and the student’s assessment of how difficult the book was to read.
• Books-to-read list: This list serves as a shopping list or plan for a student’s future reading. Students record sequels that are yet to be published, books recommended by peers or me, or books that they have previewed and want to read later.
• Response entries: The majority of the reader’s notebook is dedicated to response entries. The focus of these letters is aesthetic; students reflect on their personal reactions to the books they read and on the authors’ writing. I write letters that respond back, asking questions and digging into students’ interpretations and appreciation of their books.
I make a notebook for myself, too. I record all of the books I read from the beginning of summer to the end of one school year and carry the notebook with me to class every day. During book commercials (on-the-spot book recommendations by students), I list any books students recommend that I would like to read, and I access my notebook during conferences and class discussions when a student needs the name of an author or a recommendation about a book they know I have read. In the section of my notebook that corresponds to the one where students write their response entries, I write conference notes instead. Students grab their notebooks every day at the beginning of class and refer to them constantly, adding books, checking off reading requirements, or drafting responses. When we meet for conferences, I expect students to bring their notebook so we can look at it together and talk about it. And I bring mine.
WHISPER
Reader’s Notebooks
MY CLASSROOM IS AN anthill—alive, bustling, each member working independently, yet united in our common purpose: reading. An undercurrent of students’ voices, whispering to one another, reinforces the feeling of industry and meaningful work. Josh and Jon stretch out across a pile of beanbags in one corner, wrapped up in their books. Courtney and Lauren sit on the couch, heads together, reading What My Mother Doesn’t Know, Sonya Sones’s latest book of narrative poetry. Bishop sits at the computer, skimming Amazon for quotes he can cite in his book review of Peak. Jacob and Madison are updating their reading lists. Daniella is writing a response letter. The students’ writing and conversations are a natural progression from the reading that they are doing. I sit in the center, perched on my green director’s chair, chatting with Eric about his latest book, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and his experiences in reading such a challenging work:
“The vocabulary in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is pretty complicated. How did you get through it?”
“Well, some of the words I looked up, and some I skipped; I could get the idea.”
“Did you find yourself rereading parts of it?”
“Yeah. I read slower, too.”
“Eric, those strategies you used—reading more slowly, looking up words, skipping words when you found clues to the meaning—those are all strategies that readers use when they come across words they don’t know.”
“It took me a while, but I was proud of myself for finishing it.”
Eric and I talk about what he plans to read next—Michael Crichton’s contemporary adult science fiction novels Jurassic Park and The Lost World— and I dash off a few comments in my notebook about his use of reading strategies to define unknown vocabulary.
Our conferences are born in students’ notebooks, where they write response entries to me once a week and turn them in. (See Figure 4.2 for an example of a response entry.) I study each child’s reading progress in greater detail by looking at the first three sections of their notebook.
These pages tell me about a student’s reading momentum. I look for holes in reading lists and note trends that may indicate whether the student is finishing books or avoiding particular genres like biography or poetry. When I see that a student is having problems getting through books, sticking too closely to a genre, or not making plans for future reading, I consider whether the student is stalled.
After school, I dig through the milk crate under my desk, where students turn in their notebooks to me, and pull Molly’s from the top of the pile. Her recent response letter makes me smile. Molly is reading Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart because I suggested it to her. We have come a long way from the first weeks of school, when I plied her with book after book and she rejected them all. She was suspicious of any book I recommended back then. Now she knows my suggestions come from a reader’s enthusiasm, not a teacher’s agenda. Her entry (see Figure
4.2) provides valuable clues about Molly as a reader and what she takes away from the book she is reading.
FIGURE 4.2: Extract from the Reader’s Notebook of a Student
Source: Molly, grade 6.
I see that Molly can repeat the events of Inkheart, a basic comprehension skill, but her entry reveals much more. Her anticipation for the ending shows her engagement with the story and her investment in its outcome. By soliciting advice about whether she should read the sequel, Molly reveals our trusting reader-to-reader relationship.