The Book Whisperer (9 page)

One morning, while dragging my students out of their books with my usual call, “Ladies and gentlemen, come to a stopping place,” I noticed that Daniel, always one of the hardest to pull out of his book, was not heading back to his desk. I went looking for him. Daniel had wedged himself into a corner between the sofa and a bookcase, a self-created burrow where he could read in peace, out of the traffic flow.

Countless reading mavens emphasize in their books and workshops the importance of setting up a dedicated place for students to read. Rugs, cushions, lamps, bookcases—all should be deliberately and artfully placed to create a reading sanctuary. Rankling over the space limitations in my classroom, it frustrated me when I could not feng shui my furniture and the children into some sort of reading oasis. I was letting the gurus down and, probably, my students. I once mentioned to Ron, my principal, that I wanted to pull out all of the desks and drag in couches and coffee tables, turning my room into a Barnes & Noble. He laughed and shook his head. He thought I was joking ....

FIGURE 3.2
:
Students read while sitting on Aunt Fanny.

As I often do when confronted with an ideal that I cannot seem to achieve, I stepped back to reconsider the true intent of the dedicated reading corner. As I see it, the reading area in a classroom is meant to serve two purposes: to send the message to students that reading is important by setting aside a prominent place for it in the room and to provide students with comfortable condi tions in which to read by not confining them to institutionally mandated seating at desks under harsh lighting. Can we do this without the community rug and the floor lamps? Of course we can.

I have never seen a student who became a reader because of access to a beanbag chair. What do we hope to accomplish by designing a living room in which students can read? After all, don't we bemoan the fact that students don't read in their living room at home? If you have a quiet reading corner, by all means, use it. I support any classroom design that makes it less institutional and more inviting to students, but don't regret it if you don't have the resources or space for a dedicated reading area. Readers are remarkably ingenious and resourceful when it comes to finding a place to read.

In New York City, I saw a man on the subway hanging on to a strap with one hand while holding the book he was reading in the other—no cozy nook needed. I was instantly reminded of my husband, who power-reads books on the train while jamming to his iPod. I have students every year who read while walking down the hall (They seem to have some internal GPS that prevents them from walking into things!); riding the school bus; or sitting in a crowded, noisy lunchroom. A classroom atmosphere that promotes reading does not come from the furniture and its placement as much as it comes from the teacher's expectation that students will read. Accepting this, I know that my entire room is a reading haven, a place where students can read in comfort and where reading doesn't require a dedicated area to take center stage every single day. We must send the message that any place can be the right place for reading, whether it's on the subway or in an out-of-the-way corner. Students needn't wait for perfect conditions to start reading. The time is now, and the place is here.

I insist on quiet during reading workshop time; I think this is because I need quiet to read and I know that quite a few of my students cannot fall into a book without limits on noise. A few years ago, while I wandered the classroom looking for students who needed help finding a book, I noticed four boys, Grant, Tien, Joel, and Brett, whom I had nicknamed the “
Eragon
Posse” after their shared love for Christopher Paolini's book (now a trilogy), whispering in the back corner of the room. “You boys had better be talking about literature back there!” I barked as I ambled over to them, determined to squelch any nonreading behavior. Assuring me that they were on task, Grant sheepishly raised his head and said, “We are!”

Embarrassed by that episode, I am now more likely to sidle up to whispering students to determine whether they are talking about books before I shush them. Building a trusting relationship with students is easier when you expect them to do the right thing instead of assuming that they are not. During independent reading time, the chattier students share recommendations or read exciting parts of their books to each other. They have a lot of time to talk to each other during the day, but this is their time to talk about reading. They enjoy the opportunity to chat with each other about what they are reading and what they are getting from their books.

Honestly, I am the person most likely to make noise during reading workshop time. I am not quiet by nature and find it hard to whisper during conferences. I often get so excited about the books I am discussing with a student that I shout queries to the rest of the class: “Hey, who has read
Tangerine
? Would you recommend it to Jonathan? He needs a realistic fiction suggestion!”

Limiting talking among students during independent reading time reinforces to students the importance of respecting classmates who need a quiet environment in order to read, but I recognize that there are legitimate moments of natural dialogue that support reading, too—even if the teacher is the one talking!

Walking by Michelle's table one morning, I stopped to talk to her about the upcoming movie
Inkheart
, which is based on one of our favorite books. Michelle agreed that fans of the book would love to see the movie. We began to talk about our hopes for the film and which parts of Cornelia Funke's ode to the power of books we most looked forward to seeing on screen. My enthusiastic conversation with Michelle not only pulled her out of the book she was reading but also drew in the other five students sitting around her. I can justify distracting students in this way because I know that talking about books is vital to a reading community, and these conversations develop relationships among my students and me.

—Richard McKenna

—Brandon

 

 

S
TANDING AT THE FRONT of my classroom, marker in hand, chart paper at the ready, I am leading a discussion with my new students about how readers choose books for themselves. In spite of our book frenzy the day before, my students have not yet accepted that this class will be different, that their reading choices and honesty will drive everything that we do. Students raise their hands to give me the answers they think I want to hear:

We stop and discuss the differences between a summary, which describes the plot of a book in detail, including the resolution; a teaser, which gives you a taste of the book without revealing the entire plot; and a blurb, which is a reviewer's reaction to the book. After exploring this tangent, students continue to tell me how they choose their books:

We add friends, family members, librarians, and teachers to the pool of people from whom we get recommendations.

Another student offers, “I pick books from the display at the bookstore.”

I doubt that most of my students choose their books from a nifty display at Barnes & Noble. Some of them have probably never chosen a book on their own. They are feeling me out. Their comments sound like questions, waiting for confirmation of their predictable replies. If I accept their pat answers, ones that students who do not even read could provide, then they will know that my pep talk about honesty is all talk. Instead, I challenge them with questions they might never expect me to ask.

I am the teacher, and there are aspects to choosing books that these new students do not think they can admit to me or verbalize because they reveal reading habits that are viewed as “cheating” or “not really reading,” so I ask, “Who has chosen a book because it is short? Who has chosen a book to read by checking how long it is?” With sheepish smiles, most of the people in the room (including me) raise a hand. “Come on, guys, I do this, too. It's OK for you to admit it. Sometimes I do not have the energy or time to commit to a long book, but I want to read something.” We travel down this tangent for several minutes, discussing the best short books we have read, and make a list of those, too.

With this wall down, we discuss the methods students use to choose books that they are reluctant to admit. Many of the students who do not see themselves as good readers did not realize before this class discussion that
all
readers “cheat.”

We add the following to our list of book selection techniques:

“I like to read some books over and over.”

“I read the ending first, and then if I like it, I read the whole book.”

“I read the first paragraph, and if it doesn't grab me, I put it down.”

“I read books that are easy.”

“I read fantasy books. My mom tries to get me to read something else, but I just don't like her books.”

The students are into it now. Their hidden opinions are flying out of their mouths from every corner of the room, and as I struggle to get all of their comments onto the chart paper, Brian grumbles, “Books are boring.”

The laughter and comments from around the room screech to a halt. Oops, are we supposed to admit to the teacher that we find books boring? The other students edge their desks away from Brian, fearing the inevitable lightning strike. The furtive glances toward Brian tell me that all of the walls are not down yet. The students look at me to see how I am going to deal with Brian's comment, so here goes.

I turn toward Brian, knowing that all of the children need to hear what I say next: “I am so glad that you said that! Some books are boring.” I share my experiences with the book
Mayflower
by Nathaniel Philbrick, which I read recently with my book group. “I read a hundred pages of that book, and I still couldn't get into it. I tried. Everyone was raving about the book, and it was on all of the ‘best books' lists this year, but I got bored with the Indian Wars and the long lists of people and places. I finally abandoned it. When I went to my book club meeting this month, I was relieved to find out that some of the other members felt the same way I did!”

My testimonial reopens the floodgates. We launch into a discussion of what to do when a book gets boring, and I give my students outright permission to abandon books that are not working for them. Readers choose what to read and when to stop reading a book that doesn't live up to its potential. I never want my students to feel that they are roped into a book just because they have started reading it. Getting a feel for the genres and reading level that is the best fit requires reading several books, including some false starts. “Hey, there is always another book waiting. If you are reading a book that is too hard or too boring to keep going, abandon it, and get another one. The important thing is not to let a bad book choice slow down your momentum for reading. Readers do this all of the time. Don't feel that you have to stick with a book just because you started it.”

Courtney sings out a modified version of Dory's mantra from the Disney movie
Finding Nemo
, “Just keep reading. Just keep reading.” Everyone laughs, and I can tell that they are beginning to relax.