Martens, P., Martens, R., Doyle, M.H., Loomis, J., Fuhrman, L., Stout, R., Soper, E. (2017). Painting writing, writing painting: Thinking, seeing, and problem solving through story. The Reading Teacher, 71(6), 669-679.
Martens et al clearly show how reading and composing texts can be multimodal. Here, a study of picture books is done with first graders in several schools. Written text and the art in these books are studied seamlessly; the idea behind this approach is that in picture books for children, the words and the art function as a seamless whole to create meaning.
The authors of this study do a particularly good job of showing us how composing written language and composing art are parallel modes of making meaning. I especially found helpful their discussion of how each of the cueing systems of written language has a counterpart in the graphic cues artists employ. For example, in written language, graphophonic cues are used when information about sounds and the letters they represent is processed. In art, the parallel to graphophonic cues is the various elements of art, including color, dot, line, shape, space, and texture. In written language, syntactic cues are used when information about grammatical structure is processed. In art, the parallel to syntactic cues is the principles of design, including balance, contrast, harmony, movement, pattern, rhythm, unity, and variety (see p. 671 for this discussion, including a helpful table).
We are treated to detailed discussions of how five different first grade classes and their teachers engaged in the study of multimodal texts in picture books using a structure called “Storying Studio” (p. 672). First, the children heard a read-aloud of a picture book. The book was then discussed with the children. First, the topic or theme of the story was discussed, but discussion moved to a focus on craft, both writer’s craft and artist’s craft (note that the word “artist” was used instead of “illustrator” in these craft discussions). Craft lessons typically focused on an aspect of craft that was used in composing the text. For example, one minilesson looked at the different kinds of lines an artist might use to convey different feelings. In another, the ways that an artist and a writer might show contrast in both written text and art are explored. The texts then became mentor texts for the children as they composed their own picture books using the craft elements they had studied.
One thing that deeply struck me was the depth and rigor of these book discussions as well as the children’s responses. Clearly, the language of art was used with these first graders, and they showed they understood that language in the responses they gave in discussions and in the texts they composed that applied what they had learned. This makes a strong case for not shying away from academic vocabulary with young children. Many of the concepts within these lessons might be classified as specialized content vocabulary, but the children were clearly able to work with that within the supportive, age-appropriate learning structures described here.
This article focuses mainly on how the art mode was approached with the children, “because it tends to be less familiar” (p. 672) to teachers than the cueing systems of written language. That thought also occurred to me as I read about these multimodal minilessons. We do a pretty good job helping teachers learn to address the cueing systems of written language, but in the typical teacher education program, we do much less with helping them learn about art, beyond some discussions of art styles and media in children’s literature courses.
As a teacher educator, I felt some conflicting feelings as I read about these minilessons. On the one hand, the potential of this approach excited me, and I resolved to do more with art elements and principles of design in my professional education courses. On the other hand, I realized that I will need to do a good amount of learning about these elements and principles myself before I can share that learning with the elementary teacher candidates I work with. Martens et al recognize that these kinds of feelings may indeed be felt by teachers and teacher educators: “We realize that classroom teachers (including us!) may not have an art background and may feel intimidated by talking about art in picturebooks” (p. 677). A table and two sidebars on the article’s concluding pages provide a handful; of resources, but I was left wanting more. How can I learn more about elements of art and principles of design? How could we provide more background on this content in the typical overstuffed professional curriculum?
I also wanted to know more about what other potential roadblocks might challenge the implementation of this sort of approach. For example, the five different teaching-learning environments described here were clearly supportive of this kind of multimodal approach. It was clear that strong partnerships existed between the two first authors (Martens and Martens) and the five first grade teachers described here (Doyle, Loomis, Fuhrman, Stout and Soper). How was this supportive environment achieved? What kinds of partnerships need to be constructed to make sure an approach like this can be successfully implemented? What if a teacher is working in a district like many of the districts in my area, that is still very much focused on test scores and quantifiable outcomes? How would one make a strong case for an approach like this in that kind of environment?
A cautionary tale about using the word shy: An action research study of how three quiet learners demonstrated participation beyond speech
Rosheim, K.C. (2018). A cautionary tale about using the word shy: An action research study of how three quiet learners demonstrated participation beyond speech. Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 61(6), 663-670.
Getting all students to participate in class has continued to be a challenge for me in all my years of teaching. I feel like a failure as a teacher if some voices go unheard in class discussions and group activities. When peer observations have been done of my teaching even now at the college level, I have worried if all students did not talk in class, and in fact, that is one thing that is evaluated negatively at my university. When I have observed faculty peers and student teachers, I’ve often looked specifically at who talked in class and how much.
Like the well-intentioned teachers Rosheim describes in this article, my peers and I have often discussed who are the “shy” or “quiet” students in our classes and what we can do to make them participate more. I have used every kind of strategy and activity I could think of to make that happen.
After reading this article, I realize that while my students often seem to respond well to my efforts, there has been a time or two when I crossed over the line, and despite my good intentions, I have unintentionally been guilty of “forcing extroverted behavior” from students, occasionally with negative results. I’ve thought I had to do that because I’ve believed that my students will need to acquire oral communication skills to succeed in the workplace and in life. The state and national standards that drive instruction and teacher education in my state demand that we help students gain those skills. And of course, there are always those negative peer and student evaluations that I think will come if I do not push the unwilling to speak in class.
The irony of all this, is that like Rosheim, I was, and still am, a “quiet learner.” I have been described as “shy” by my current faculty peers and by administrators. When I walk into the classroom to teach, or go to a meeting, I often feel that I will have to force myself to speak. I’ve even shared this with my teacher candidates. What I’ve described is a process almost like “method acting” where I get myself “in character” as a teacher or a committee chair or a conference presenter or some other kind of participant. Eventually I find that I usually become the role I am playing, but the process is stressful for me, and when any element of uncertainty is involved, I must become the character all over again.
I think about my own preferences for learning and participating with others, and I realize they are the same as the three introverted sixth grade learners Rosheim worked with in her action research study. Rosheim gathered extensive data from these students. She began with a 10-question survey that places students on a “continuum for introversion-extroversion” taken from the writings of Susan Cain, whose 2012 book, Quiet: The power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking was heavily referred to by Rosheim. I easily found this survey online, though I am required to register if I want to see my own results. This was interesting because as a “shy person”, my own shyness extends to online situations, and I usually prefer to “lurk” rather than register!
I did order Susan Cain’s book and plan to dig into it when it arrives. The book was a best-seller when it came out in 2012, but I have heard it referred to as “pop psychology”. I also easily found and viewed the TED talk that Rosheim showed the students. She asked them to write reflectively on what they thought about the TED talk. Like Rosheim and like me, Cain identifies herself as a “quiet learner.”
Because this article resonated with me emotionally, I am trying to view this article with a particularly critical eye. It would be all too easy to embrace everything in this article, but when something resonates so strongly as this did for me, caution is necessary. With Rosheim’s study drawing so heavily on Cain’s work, we must ask who Cain is and what her research has been, and I intend to do that.
We need to keep in mind that Cain is not an educator; she is an attorney. She does appear to be making an income presenting and writing on this topic. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but as I tell my own students, we always have to be looking at the goals and intentions of researchers, writers, and presenters. We need to see evidence, and critically evaluate what we hear and read, even if it comes from a source that sounds trustworthy to us.
We also need to look critically at Rosheim’s findings and the data upon which she based her conclusions. The data Rosheim gathered came from interviews, video observations in the classroom, students’ reflective writing, and Rosheim’s field notes. She discovered that each of her three focal students (who all had scored as introverted on the survey), had different reasons for not speaking in class, and they each reported different ways of learning. All showed evidence that the assumption teachers often make that “the absence of talk” equals “the absence of learning” (p. 664) was not the case for these students. One student said that she preferred to “think and listen to others” in class (p. 666). One of the students took copious notes in class, showing engagement and mental processing, though he rarely spoke in class. A third student discussed how he often needed a break from interacting socially, and when he did not get a break, he became physically ill.
Though I found these observations interesting, I want to know more. What other ways of engaging in class are there, besides listening and writing? Could there be a middle ground, where certain kinds of social interactions might be easier for introverts than others? In my own case, discussing with a small group of people that I know well works better than discussing in large group settings or with people I do not know well. I do well in situations where I can get away and work alone, then return to a small group setting to bounce ideas off people, and then maybe work alone some more.
What other alternatives could be tried that would meet students’ needs while still providing a context for engaged learning? Listening and writing might be good alternatives, but are there ways that go beyond verbal skills that might meet even more students’ needs? How can I make such alternatives work in my own classroom, and model them for future teachers, in a world where verbal (especially spoken) responses are valued over other types of responses?
One big take-away I had here was that “taking time to think” before responding to prompts is not a negative thing! Teachers often find even a few seconds of wait time almost unbearable, but should we be building in more opportunities for reflection? I have felt my own frustrations when peers, supervisors, and students expected instantaneous responses to electronic communications. Nowadays, with text messaging, Twitter, and other rapid ways of communicating, it sometimes feels like taking time to think before responding is discouraged. If I take a day to respond thoughtfully to a message, I receive emails asking whether I received the message or not!
Judging from much of what I see of responses that are almost instantaneous (and which may often have character limits!), I am beginning to think that we sometimes need to slow things down a bit before responding. In the long run, that may save time. Sometimes it may be better to provide a response that is less instantaneous but more thoughtful, and that shows some engagement and care.
Clearly, there is a place for all kinds of learners and responders and what they bring to our schools, our workplaces, and our society. As Susan Cain says in her TED talk, we need all kinds of learners and all kind of communicators to cope with the complex problems we are facing, now and in the future.
Getting all students to participate in class has continued to be a challenge for me in all my years of teaching. I feel like a failure as a teacher if some voices go unheard in class discussions and group activities. When peer observations have been done of my teaching even now at the college level, I have worried if all students did not talk in class, and in fact, that is one thing that is evaluated negatively at my university. When I have observed faculty peers and student teachers, I’ve often looked specifically at who talked in class and how much.
Like the well-intentioned teachers Rosheim describes in this article, my peers and I have often discussed who are the “shy” or “quiet” students in our classes and what we can do to make them participate more. I have used every kind of strategy and activity I could think of to make that happen.
After reading this article, I realize that while my students often seem to respond well to my efforts, there has been a time or two when I crossed over the line, and despite my good intentions, I have unintentionally been guilty of “forcing extroverted behavior” from students, occasionally with negative results. I’ve thought I had to do that because I’ve believed that my students will need to acquire oral communication skills to succeed in the workplace and in life. The state and national standards that drive instruction and teacher education in my state demand that we help students gain those skills. And of course, there are always those negative peer and student evaluations that I think will come if I do not push the unwilling to speak in class.
The irony of all this, is that like Rosheim, I was, and still am, a “quiet learner.” I have been described as “shy” by my current faculty peers and by administrators. When I walk into the classroom to teach, or go to a meeting, I often feel that I will have to force myself to speak. I’ve even shared this with my teacher candidates. What I’ve described is a process almost like “method acting” where I get myself “in character” as a teacher or a committee chair or a conference presenter or some other kind of participant. Eventually I find that I usually become the role I am playing, but the process is stressful for me, and when any element of uncertainty is involved, I must become the character all over again.
I think about my own preferences for learning and participating with others, and I realize they are the same as the three introverted sixth grade learners Rosheim worked with in her action research study. Rosheim gathered extensive data from these students. She began with a 10-question survey that places students on a “continuum for introversion-extroversion” taken from the writings of Susan Cain, whose 2012 book, Quiet: The power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking was heavily referred to by Rosheim. I easily found this survey online, though I am required to register if I want to see my own results. This was interesting because as a “shy person”, my own shyness extends to online situations, and I usually prefer to “lurk” rather than register!
I did order Susan Cain’s book and plan to dig into it when it arrives. The book was a best-seller when it came out in 2012, but I have heard it referred to as “pop psychology”. I also easily found and viewed the TED talk that Rosheim showed the students. She asked them to write reflectively on what they thought about the TED talk. Like Rosheim and like me, Cain identifies herself as a “quiet learner.”
Because this article resonated with me emotionally, I am trying to view this article with a particularly critical eye. It would be all too easy to embrace everything in this article, but when something resonates so strongly as this did for me, caution is necessary. With Rosheim’s study drawing so heavily on Cain’s work, we must ask who Cain is and what her research has been, and I intend to do that.
We need to keep in mind that Cain is not an educator; she is an attorney. She does appear to be making an income presenting and writing on this topic. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but as I tell my own students, we always have to be looking at the goals and intentions of researchers, writers, and presenters. We need to see evidence, and critically evaluate what we hear and read, even if it comes from a source that sounds trustworthy to us.
We also need to look critically at Rosheim’s findings and the data upon which she based her conclusions. The data Rosheim gathered came from interviews, video observations in the classroom, students’ reflective writing, and Rosheim’s field notes. She discovered that each of her three focal students (who all had scored as introverted on the survey), had different reasons for not speaking in class, and they each reported different ways of learning. All showed evidence that the assumption teachers often make that “the absence of talk” equals “the absence of learning” (p. 664) was not the case for these students. One student said that she preferred to “think and listen to others” in class (p. 666). One of the students took copious notes in class, showing engagement and mental processing, though he rarely spoke in class. A third student discussed how he often needed a break from interacting socially, and when he did not get a break, he became physically ill.
Though I found these observations interesting, I want to know more. What other ways of engaging in class are there, besides listening and writing? Could there be a middle ground, where certain kinds of social interactions might be easier for introverts than others? In my own case, discussing with a small group of people that I know well works better than discussing in large group settings or with people I do not know well. I do well in situations where I can get away and work alone, then return to a small group setting to bounce ideas off people, and then maybe work alone some more.
What other alternatives could be tried that would meet students’ needs while still providing a context for engaged learning? Listening and writing might be good alternatives, but are there ways that go beyond verbal skills that might meet even more students’ needs? How can I make such alternatives work in my own classroom, and model them for future teachers, in a world where verbal (especially spoken) responses are valued over other types of responses?
One big take-away I had here was that “taking time to think” before responding to prompts is not a negative thing! Teachers often find even a few seconds of wait time almost unbearable, but should we be building in more opportunities for reflection? I have felt my own frustrations when peers, supervisors, and students expected instantaneous responses to electronic communications. Nowadays, with text messaging, Twitter, and other rapid ways of communicating, it sometimes feels like taking time to think before responding is discouraged. If I take a day to respond thoughtfully to a message, I receive emails asking whether I received the message or not!
Judging from much of what I see of responses that are almost instantaneous (and which may often have character limits!), I am beginning to think that we sometimes need to slow things down a bit before responding. In the long run, that may save time. Sometimes it may be better to provide a response that is less instantaneous but more thoughtful, and that shows some engagement and care.
Clearly, there is a place for all kinds of learners and responders and what they bring to our schools, our workplaces, and our society. As Susan Cain says in her TED talk, we need all kinds of learners and all kind of communicators to cope with the complex problems we are facing, now and in the future.
Rethinking sight words
Miles, K.P., Rubin, G.B., & Gonzalez-Frey, S. (2017). Rethinking sight words. The Reading Teacher, 71(6), 715-726.
This article will help teachers rethink the ways they have taught elementary school students about sight words (aka “high-frequency” words). That rethinking is long overdue.
The most common current practice has been around for many years and continues to be seen in many elementary schools. Young readers in the early grades, as well as struggling older readers, are typically provided with one of the popular high-frequency word lists, such as the venerable “Dolch lists” which have been used for many years and are still out there (try an Internet search to see just how popular that list still is) or the Fry lists (almost as venerable and popular), or some other more recent list (there are several out there).
The typical instructional approach tends to be the same, no matter which list is used. Students practice the words on the list, often on flash cards, and are told that these words cannot be sounded out using the graphophonemic relationships they know, so the words must be memorized. The words are then presented in all sorts of contexts, including on the ubiquitous word walls.
Miles et al ask whether this “all or nothing” (or “decodable vs. non-decodable”) approach to high-frequency words is either realistic or valuable. They propose that there may be a middle ground between words that are regularly spelled (and thus easy to decode) and irregularly spelled (and thus difficult or even impossible to decode). They suggest that there may be three categories: 1) words that are regularly spelled, like “cat”, and so have an easy phoneme to grapheme correspondence, 2) words that are “temporarily” irregularly spelled, like “gate” or “then” that can become regular once children are taught the frequently occurring patterns in those words, and 3) words that are “permanently” irregularly spelled, and may indeed need to be memorized, like “have” or “great”.
Miles et al state that there are fewer permanently irregularly spelled words than teachers think, and even those words do have some letters that can be sounded out and that fit expected patterns. They conclude that direct instruction in phoneme-grapheme relationships is beneficial for all kinds of words.
Two helpful tables are provided on pages 719 and 720, showing examples of all three kinds of words. As a teacher educator, I can envision a teaching activity where teacher candidates research the lists currently being used at their field experience schools and do some classification to see where the words on the lists they are using fit.
Miles et al conclude with a detailed description of an instructional intervention where children are taught to segment words into phonemes and then to spell those words. Several kinds of sensory input are used; children are asked to say each phoneme in a word, tap it out on their arms, and watch as the teacher spells the word on a whiteboard. They then practice using plastic “counters” and a grid of boxes (reminiscent of an Elkonin box), and then write the words using markers. I can envision having teacher candidates design a lesson focusing on a word or a set of words. I could see teaching words with similar patterns in a lesson, similarly to the way that onsets and rimes are taught. As students advance, more difficult (but common) patterns could be used (for example, words like “light” and “night”, which could even be compared to words that sound like them (for example, “kite”). Even a difficult word like “thought” could be taught with words like “brought”.
The intervention suggested here is really nothing that will seem unfamiliar to experienced elementary teachers, but the reconsideration of how we teach sight words/high-frequency words is refreshing and needed. Instruction in sound-symbol correspondences can empower readers. English spelling does have its irregularities, but maybe it’s not as impossible to cope with as we have thought, and effective instruction can make it less troublesome. The authors present some limited research (small sample size and no control group) in support of the proposed intervention. It will be interesting to see if deeper research will support their conclusions, and if teachers will rethink the old ways of teaching and try the intervention with their own students.
This article will help teachers rethink the ways they have taught elementary school students about sight words (aka “high-frequency” words). That rethinking is long overdue.
The most common current practice has been around for many years and continues to be seen in many elementary schools. Young readers in the early grades, as well as struggling older readers, are typically provided with one of the popular high-frequency word lists, such as the venerable “Dolch lists” which have been used for many years and are still out there (try an Internet search to see just how popular that list still is) or the Fry lists (almost as venerable and popular), or some other more recent list (there are several out there).
The typical instructional approach tends to be the same, no matter which list is used. Students practice the words on the list, often on flash cards, and are told that these words cannot be sounded out using the graphophonemic relationships they know, so the words must be memorized. The words are then presented in all sorts of contexts, including on the ubiquitous word walls.
Miles et al ask whether this “all or nothing” (or “decodable vs. non-decodable”) approach to high-frequency words is either realistic or valuable. They propose that there may be a middle ground between words that are regularly spelled (and thus easy to decode) and irregularly spelled (and thus difficult or even impossible to decode). They suggest that there may be three categories: 1) words that are regularly spelled, like “cat”, and so have an easy phoneme to grapheme correspondence, 2) words that are “temporarily” irregularly spelled, like “gate” or “then” that can become regular once children are taught the frequently occurring patterns in those words, and 3) words that are “permanently” irregularly spelled, and may indeed need to be memorized, like “have” or “great”.
Miles et al state that there are fewer permanently irregularly spelled words than teachers think, and even those words do have some letters that can be sounded out and that fit expected patterns. They conclude that direct instruction in phoneme-grapheme relationships is beneficial for all kinds of words.
Two helpful tables are provided on pages 719 and 720, showing examples of all three kinds of words. As a teacher educator, I can envision a teaching activity where teacher candidates research the lists currently being used at their field experience schools and do some classification to see where the words on the lists they are using fit.
Miles et al conclude with a detailed description of an instructional intervention where children are taught to segment words into phonemes and then to spell those words. Several kinds of sensory input are used; children are asked to say each phoneme in a word, tap it out on their arms, and watch as the teacher spells the word on a whiteboard. They then practice using plastic “counters” and a grid of boxes (reminiscent of an Elkonin box), and then write the words using markers. I can envision having teacher candidates design a lesson focusing on a word or a set of words. I could see teaching words with similar patterns in a lesson, similarly to the way that onsets and rimes are taught. As students advance, more difficult (but common) patterns could be used (for example, words like “light” and “night”, which could even be compared to words that sound like them (for example, “kite”). Even a difficult word like “thought” could be taught with words like “brought”.
The intervention suggested here is really nothing that will seem unfamiliar to experienced elementary teachers, but the reconsideration of how we teach sight words/high-frequency words is refreshing and needed. Instruction in sound-symbol correspondences can empower readers. English spelling does have its irregularities, but maybe it’s not as impossible to cope with as we have thought, and effective instruction can make it less troublesome. The authors present some limited research (small sample size and no control group) in support of the proposed intervention. It will be interesting to see if deeper research will support their conclusions, and if teachers will rethink the old ways of teaching and try the intervention with their own students.
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