After I decided what I was going to read, I practiced it several times at home aloud, timing myself and also getting down how I wanted the read aloud to come out. I tested different intonations, different stopping points, different questions to ask to keep the students’ anticipation and interest up. I also paid attention to how I felt while I was doing this, a little nervous and even a little anxious as to how well I was going to do. I remember thinking that, if I was nervous at home in private, how nervous was I going to be in front of the kids?

The day of the read aloud came, and everything went real well. I was very comfortable reading in front of Diane, with whom I had been working for quite a long time by then (this was the third semester she’d been gracious enough to allow me to work with her and learn under her-she had 31 years of experience and expertise to impart) and in front of whom I had done several other read alouds, but this was a new class of kids whom I hadn’t met before. They were a rowdy bunch, which wasn’t a problem, because I felt pumped by their energy. I got up there, dragged over and sat in the "storytelling chair", explained who I was and why I was there in front of them that day. I told them I would be reading aloud to them, and then I asked them if they knew what folklore and oral tradition were. Several hands flew into the air, and a good discussion ensued–the kids were quite eager to tell me how they were studying folklore and some of the folktales they had already studied. There were two kids, in particular, who played devil’s advocate off each other (which, Diane told me later, these particular youngsters did a lot–"Keeps things interesting," she said). I felt that nervousness in my gut, but I let it drive me instead of distract me, and I’m glad, too, because I really was having a blast up there, in front of them. Then I held up the beautifully-illustrated cover of the book and asked them, first, if they thought birds could talk, to which they laughingly said no, and, then, if bats could sing, which got the same answer. I think that helped to lighten the mood and cut the ice. At that point, I started the read aloud, and I immediately started in on the intonations and the different voices and the stopping points I had pre-determined (e.g., when Virginia Hamilton wrote "free-winging", I stopped and asked the kids what they thought that might mean in reference to these bird characters–soaring). Each time I stopped and asked something, it got the kids talking, to me and to each other, and I would reluctantly get them and myself back to the story (reluctantly, because the kids were so good about really getting into discussions sparked by my questions).

When I was done reading, I asked them to spend about five minutes writing in their journals a reaction to the story, what they thought about it and what it meant to them. I thought it was pretty neat that Diane actually set a kitchen timer, which indeed went off after five minutes. They seemed sufficient time for most of the kids. Then I asked some of them to share their entries, which several of them did eagerly. That sparked a lot of discussion, good discussion, too, not just surface stuff about what happened in the story. The kids were sharp; it was obvious to me they had picked up on the moral of the story. I asked them about Hamilton’s writing style, about the different voices she gave to the different bird characters, and a number of them said they particularly enjoyed the poetry.

For the sake of self-evaluation, first and foremost, I learned that this type of instruction, reading aloud and then getting kids to write about the experience and what they had heard, can be and is a lot of fun; also, that it is a very interactive process, which I really like–I really liked it that, as the "teacher" up front, my role was really merely getting their creative ball rolling; they’re the ones who gave it momentum, which was a great thing to witness. It is my impression that this interaction, this reciprocation of enthusiasm, was as productive for the students as it was for me. I also learned that, should the discussion have delved too much more deeply into folklore (the subject at hand), then I probably would have become quite lost and the kids would have figured out immediately I was floundering. My real point here is that one needs to know one’s stuff in order to teach it, and a large component part of that teaching experience is reading.

I knew exactly what I wanted to accomplish with this teaching experiment, namely reinforce the students’ learning about how to put together a narrative so it flowed logically from beginning to end.  I was excited about using this particular technique, because I knew firsthand it would be fun and engaging for even the struggling readers and writers in the room.  This was something with which Diane agreed, namely that she had students who hesitated to raise their hand and otherwise participate in class and it was her opinion that this exercise would draw them out and make them feel a part of the group (she also told me, with a wry grin, that she planned on stealing this technique, which she’d never encountered before—she said teachers are nothing if not consummate thieves).

To prepare for this exercise, I first decided which picture I wanted to use as the catalyst of the exercise.  I chose Salvador Dali’s Les IlJphants (attached).  I thought this surrealistic print would really spark and challenge the kids’ imaginations, especially when I told them they would have to develop a story, one sentence at a time, from the following, prosaic opening:

            She wanted to go to the store.  That’s what Mama had asked her to do.  She didn’t think there would be any harm cutting through the woods.

After I had the picture and the opening lines, I then tackled how I was going to accomplish the exercise.  I went to the Media Center and asked them if I could check out the laptop computer/LCD projector combination, and they should sure.  It took some doing arranging for a day on which I could use it, since it was a popular item.  I practiced with the equipment several times, so I knew I would be familiar with it.

The day of the lesson arrived.  I launched into the actual exercise.  I put the starter sentences up onto the board and told the kids that they would be creating a story which had to start from these sentences but which had to proceed from the Dali picture, to which I then pointed.  After I read the starter sentences, one girl, disgust in her voice, said it sounded like Little Red Riding Hood (Diane and I simply exchanged grins).  I asked them to look at the picture for about half a minute, think about it, and then we would start.  The kids really got into it.  The hands flew up when I asked who wanted to give the first sentence.  As the sentences flew at me, I typed them, and they appeared up on the board.  They were laughing and smiling, and I was really getting into it, too.

This part of the exercise took a good twenty minutes to complete, and I was receiving sentences from all around the group.  I then read the story they had come up with (attached), which had run far afield of the Dali picture.  I then asked them if this qualified as a story, and they said yes.  Then I asked them why, and they eagerly told me because it had characters and a action and adventure and flowed from one point to a internally-consistent next one and so on (not in those words, obviously).  As they cited these qualifications, I returned to the list we had originally created at the beginning of the lesson.  I then created a clear screen and typed the following: Jill saw Jack.  Jack went to Jill.  Jack and Jill walked home.  There was silence and many wrinkled brows about the room.  I asked them if that was a story, and there were mumblings.  One girl ventured a hesitant, “Yes,” and I asked her why.  I eventually got the kids to see that these three sentences did indeed constitute a story, with a beginning, middle and an end.  I then asked them what were the differences between the two stories (this one and the one they had created) and one boy said this short one was more boring, to which I cheered, “Exactly!”  I asked the whole group which story did they think was the far more interesting of the two, and they chorused, “Ours!” (it was really neat to witness their instant ownership of what they had created).  I asked them to tell me why theirs was the more interesting, and they said because theirs had many more details and adjectives and names and action and verbs and characters.  I looked at Diane, and she looked at me, and we both nodded, smiling.

At that point, we still had five minutes of the class left, and I found myself floundering somewhat, because my lesson plan was over, and I had to wing it at that point.  I looked at Diane beseechingly, and she simply shrugged.  The kids were looking at me, and I looked at them, and I knew I had better come up with something quick.  I returned to the laptop and called up a new blank screen and asked them if they would like to do another story.  They cheered, “Yeah!”  It was amazing how into this technique they were.  I threw a sentence up onto the board, and the kids, one at a time, ran with it (attached).  The timing was perfect; the last student contributed his sentence and we were even able to read the story together, and just a few moments later the bell rang, ending the class.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004
I worked with Timmy once a week each Wednesday afternoon for half an hour. Mrs Stables asked me to work with him when I explained my tutoring project as part of this course and that I needed a struggling reader with whom to work for the semester. The first session I spent with Timmy, a seventh grader, simply getting to know him: he works for an hour after school each afternoon on a dairy farm across the road from his home and on the weekends, he plays soccer, has an older sister and a younger sister, and is an officer in Stewart’s FCCLA (I’ve already forgotten what that stands for). I asked him if he knew why Mrs Stables had chosen him for me to work with (I had already explained to him how and why I would be working with him once or twice each week for the next couple of months). He said he was pretty sure it was because he has trouble reading and she wanted to help him read better. From the first session I knew he was a bright kid and eager to learn. I asked him if he had read and enjoyed any particular titles lately, and he replied that the summer before he’d read Shiloh by Phyllis Naylor. I myself hadn’t read that particular book, which I told him, so I asked him to describe to me the story and characters of the book, which he proceeded to do in surprising detail.

By the time of our next session I purchased copies of Shiloh, Shiloh Season and Saving Shiloh to use in my tutoring sessions with Timmy. I always started the sessions the same way. I asked him about his week, about his school day and about his job and soccer and then I asked him about his reading, anything he was reading currently and if there was anything he wanted to ask me about his reading or anything he might want help in. He did ask me to help him with a short chapter in his Biology textbook. I asked him to show me the section he was having trouble understanding, and I first read it while having him read it with me, then I read a paragraph and then had him read the same paragraph and then I had him read the section aloud by himself while I listened. I noticed an improvement in his final reading from his initial one, and I think he did, too.

It was the next session we started reading Shiloh Season. We started at the beginning, Timmy reading while I listened. Periodically I would ask him if he knew what a certain word meant or what he thought a character meant by a certain piece of dialogue. It was my impression that Timmy particularly enjoyed it when I would ask him to explain what was an obvious reference to some action or character in the previous novel. There was no problem with his recall, and I wasn’t able to ascertain any problem with his ability to follow a story. There was a deficit in his reading ability, yes, but, in all honesty, I wasn’t sure (and I’m still not) why Mrs Stables felt Timmy was in need of tutoring. I will say I could tell he was reading better by the time our tutoring sessions ended than when they had begun.

At our last session I asked Timmy how he felt our sessions together had gone, and he said he had liked meeting with me and actually looked forward to them each Wednesday. He said school in general was boring, and our sessions were something different. I thanked him for his time and good efforts and for the chance to get to know him, and I left him with the three novels, as a gift.