Responsive Teaching

The past two days, I had the opportunity to share my passion for reading and my belief in reading workshop with other educators. After agonizing over my presentation for weeks, it was not until I was lying in bed the night before the first presentation that one word came to mind to describe reading workshop.

A workshop model is responsive.

When teachers are able to sit with students, confer with them about what they are reading, and then decide what skills those students need, that is the heart of responsive teaching. A workshop model allows teachers to formatively assess their students through conferences and guided practice, and then they are able to determine their students' needs and address them through mini-lessons, teaching them strategies along the way to make them better readers.

When school districts mandate that teachers use a basal reader, or textbook, to teach reading skills, those skills are being taught without regard to the individual readers in the classroom. A basal reader includes grade level stories and articles along with teaching resources. If followed with fidelity, most programs tell teachers the exact order in which they have to teach the stories and the skills. Unfortunately, individual student needs are not taken into account with this prescriptive method.

It is interesting to me that the dictionary definition of basal is "forming or belonging to a bottom or base."  What happens when students are expected to read the basal, yet they don't have the basic skills needed to be able to access the text? The reality is that so many of our students are reading below grade level, yet they are continually being given materials that are on grade level through programs from educational publishers. Where is the "base" for these students who keep getting pushed along as their grade level rises but their reading level does not?

Pernille Ripp, an educator and author that I respect and follow on social media, just posted a quote on Instagram from Richard Allington's "What Really Matters When Working with Struggling Readers." It is, "...no research existed then, or exists now, to suggest that maintaining fidelity to a core reading program will provide effective reading lessons." Teachers have told me that they have been told that they have to use a textbook because they "don't have a core reading program." Since when are our students not at the core of everything we do? Reading workshop IS a core reading program, and it takes into account all readers at all levels every minute of the class period.

In a reading workshop model, students are able to work on their vocabulary, comprehension, and fluency in materials that they can read and that they want to read. Teachers are then able to meet students where they are and nudge them forward with one-on-one conferences. When teachers notice that students are missing particular skills or need extra practice with a previously taught concept, they are able to respond to those needs by teaching them strategies they can carry with them throughout their reading lives.

Giving kids time to read and books they want to read is one of the most important things we can do for them. Every day they should be having authentic reading experiences in which they use strategies to tackle whatever text they are reading, and we should be there beside them, ready to support them when they need it most. We should be having rich conversations with them about what they are reading. Reading workshop includes a great deal of on-the-spot teaching, which I would argue, can have more impact on individual readers than anything else. Workshop allows teachers to respond immediately to readers' needs instead of waiting for those skills to appear somewhere in a textbook. Yes, it takes work; yes, it is easier for someone to tell us what to teach. But shouldn't we focus on what is best for our students?

Riding in the Car with My Teenage Daughter

There are many ways to measure growth. We may hang an oversized ruler on a wall and mark different milestones in a child's life. We may keep track of stats from doctor's visits. We may take pictures every year in front of a birthday cake. Yet sometimes we don't even recognize the growth in the child sitting beside us day in and day out. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, it just happens.

One morning on the way to school, I happened to glance at my daughter, sitting in the passenger seat. Long brown hair, long eyelashes, hazel eyes fixed ahead - the same eyes that had just been rolling at me moments before. The scowl that had been on her face replaced by a smile as she started singing aloud to the song coming from her phone, which, these days, is never far from her hand.

I'm not sure when she evolved from the little girl in pigtails in her carseat in the back to this young woman suddenly sitting beside me. Long gone are the days of listening to Dora the Explorer songs on repeat. Gone are the days of looking in the rearview mirror to see her tiny hands grasping her white blanket, sparkling eyes and cute smile peeking back at me. Gone are the car rides filled with singing ABCs, playing games, and listening to stories of what she did at preschool instead of taking a nap.

These days, I find that many of our car rides are spent in silence or punctuated only by the music coming from my daughter's phone. I ask questions that yield one word answers, and then her attention is diverted elsewhere to anything more captivating than a mom trying to make conversation. I know that this is part of being a teenager, but I don't think I was prepared for this measure of growth. I miss that little voice in the back seat.

Just as I did when she was younger, I have started to truly cherish these car rides, though on a different level. I'm not sure that the fact that she is growing up has ever been more evident to me than it is right now. We may not discuss the day in the same detail as her younger self would allow, but we are together. One day all of her possessions won't be strewn througout my car - it will be empty. One day we won't be arguing about homework or dinner or what she forgot at home. One day I won't be driving her to and from activities, constantly in a rush. The next time I get frustrated because I find trash under the front seat or have to drive back and forth across town, I need to stop and remind myself that this stage of her life is just another mark on the continuing growth chart that I will look back on with wonder as to how it filled so fast.

Regardless of how many eye rolls or exasperated huffs I get, I have come to appreciate my teenager's current love language. After many rough morning starts, most of our rides start with, "Any song requests?" and then the rest of our ride is spent sharing a very diverse range of music that inevitably brings us both to a common ground where we don't have to speak to know that the love is there. She may not tell me in words, but I can usually gain insight into her emotions from her music choice of the day. I may not be able to make her belly-laugh like I could when she was little, but my car rapping skills never fail to bring a smile to her face. And if nothing else, we start and finish our day together, just the two of us.

So until the day comes when she gets into her own car and drives away, I'm going to let my no-longer-little-girl push play and sit back and enjoy the music.