Motoko Rich’s latest article in her Future of Reading series for the New York Times, “A New Assignment: Pick Books You Like,” describes Lynne McNeill’s use of reading workshops in her junior high classroom. Instead of reading assigned texts, such as To Kill a Mockingbird, McNeill encourages students to select their own books and present them to the class. Of course, an advantage to this approach is that students are more likely to be interested in, and therefore motivated to read, texts they choose. Proponents say that this positive experience could encourage a habit of life-long reading. Other supporters say at least students are reading, even if the quality of the books are lower. People who challenge this approach are concerned that students will lack a shared literacy about reading — if each member of the class is reading a different book, it’s difficult to discuss specific constructs of literature, for example, irony, or develop a shared understanding of themes such as man vs. nature.
But at least they’re reading.
For now, I’m not going to argue that students are reading now more than ever before because the majority of their communication is textual. Reading, like any skill, is developed over time, through practice. So, while the content of their reading may not compare to the literary canons, it still contributes to their overall literacy. Should we dumb down classroom texts to make reading itself more attractive?
Part I: Reading
First, are these readings dumbed down? McNeill uses poetry in class presumably to teach literary conventions and to develop a shared vocabulary for discussing the books students are reading. Potentially problematic is that short pieces of literature are used to illustrate concepts of structure and theme, rather than sustained discussion of longer texts. Part of the reward of struggling through a classic work is learning bits along the way, usually about storytelling, themes, and often historical context. Poems certainly serve a storytelling function, but lack the rich narratives of longer works.
Another advantage to assigning difficult texts is the side benefit of making unassigned texts more attractive. In Lev Grossman’s “Good Books Don’t Have to Be Hard” article in the Wall Street Journal, he addresses the sexiness of popular novels. Grossman describes this “literature of pleasure” as evolving from the supermarket racks — delicious storylines of mystery, adventure, and romance that feel like guilty pleasures to read.
Indeed, as Matt Groening and Scott McCloud will attest, there is a certain satisfaction in reading texts perceived as subversive — for example, sneaking the comic book into the classroom. In fact, comic book authors are a compelling example of people who developed a life-long reading habit in spite of assigned canonical readings. Perhaps if they had been allowed to read comic books in class instead of Great Expectations, they may have been more engaged in the classroom, but it’s precisely this feeling of disenfranchisement that makes comic book reading so attractive. Would Bart Simpson exist if Groening had a more positive schooling experience? How did the canonical texts, or discussions of them, contribute to his storytelling skills?
Reading difficult texts also teaches us something about the rewards of doing so. Generally, when it comes to school work, the easy path is more attracitve. So, when asked to choose between a selection from the “Twilight” series or Lord of the Flies, students will likely pick the easier text. Reading, like other aspects of schooling, such as sports and math, teaches students life-long lessons. Finishing a difficult text, much like hitting your first home run, not being selected for a team, successfully applying an algebraic formula are more than rites of passage, they are building blocks of character. Through these experiences, students learn about themselves, they learn to overcome obstacles, they discover how to deal with frustration or even failure. They make decisions about how, in the future, they will persevere or retreat. Sure, classical literature is at times unattractive, and as a teacher, I would never intentionally inflict un-fun moments into the learning experience, but much of any training, whether it’s to be an athlete, musician, or scholar has its un-fun moments. Maybe, for example, soccer players shouldn’t have to run laps during practice, but should instead do an activity that is more preferable to them. Perhaps musicians shouldn’t practice at all, because it’s unpleasant.
Over the past week, a few articles have caught my attention, all in one way or another addressing the future of reading. What if the future of reading isn’t so different from the present? Sure, in the future we may be floating in our anti-gravity reading rooms and whatever we’re reading will light up and talk to us, but I’m not convinced that the cognitive process will be very different. Most discussions of the future of reading are concerned about the content delivery, which matters, but isn’t as important as how we comprehend the content.
As we’ve seen with the Internet, although access to information has increased, the cognitive challenges it presents — locating information, evaluating sources, integrating concepts into a new understanding — are not very different from those of traditional literacy. Certainly the amount of information and the speed with which we access it has increased, and this most definitely places a heavier load on our cognitive process. However, literacy, whether practiced online or offline, requires certain cognitive skills that seem to transcend time and medium.
So, if my dream of living like the Jetsons is ever fulfilled, I will likely still be reading left to right, still struggle with synthesizing concepts, and still need to evaluate the credibility of the source I’m reading.
A colleague of mine recently shared that a friend of his in Texas had suffered a terrible accident and was in a coma. To make matters worse, the man’s wife was 8 months pregnant at the time of the accident. I offered to pray for him. A month has passed, so I asked my colleague for the name of his friend and his current condition. I learned that the wife of the coma patient had started a Facebook group to pray for her husband, so I checked it out.
Started in April, the “Pray for Keith Beasley” group has 5,411 members. His wife, Judy Foster Beasley, posts her prayers and thoughts on a weekly, if not daily basis. The posts are intensely personal reflections on her faith, her husband, their relationship, and her daily experiences.
To be honest, given its popularity, the prayer group almost seems like a hoax. Since someone I know and trust told me about it, I believe it.
What’s interesting to me is the (1) group’s large size and (2) outpouring of faith on this page.
Group size
Even if the immediate Beasley family messaged all of their FB friends, the size of the group (5,411 ) is still impressive. I did a quick search on the term “pray for” and found that about 51,00 groups and 166 pages exist under these terms. Of course, group sizes range from 136,457 members (”Pray for Taiwan”) to 1 member. The “Pray for Taiwan” group, organized after the devastation of Typhoon Morakot in early August, has 3,913 wall posts at the time of this writing, with new posts still appearing hourly. Another group, started in April to pray for three Pittsburgh Police officers has 68,110 members and 2,139 wall posts as of this writing. New posts continue to appear daily.
Outpouring of faith
Judy and members of the “Pray for Keith Beasley” group post prayers, writing personal messages addressed to God. Members also post notes of support and pledge to pray for Keith’s healing. Posts to the Taiwan and Pittsburgh prayer groups are a similar mix of prayers and notes of support. Understandably, these groups are providing support during what would otherwise be (and probably still are) very isolating experiences.
Perhaps it shouldn’t be too surprising that for all the arguments about privacy and Facebook, its users post extremely intimate thoughts during extraordinarily traumatic moments with complete confidence that they are not doing so in a digital vacuum.
Great news about online learning from the Evaluation of Evidence-Based Practices in Online Learning report released by the U.S. Department of Education in June — students perform better in online environments than in traditional face-to-face instruction. But, how do we know this? The study is based on a meta-analysis of roughly 99 studies published between 1997 and 2008. What is unclear from the report is (1) what types of learning were measured in the included studies — comprehension, retention, transfer, none, all of the above? (2) duration of studies — were these effects consistent over time? (3) how learning was measured — e.g., multiple choice, essay, one test or multiple tests? Most importantly, the report says nothing about the consistency of measures across the included studies.
The majority of studies considered in the meta-analysis were split between undergraduate education and graduate schools or professional training programs. Professional training programs cover a broad area of learning, much of which has been shown to benefit from online education. Therefore, the inclusion of professional training programs may positively skew the results.
Interestingly, although much of the publicity surrounding the report applies the findings to K-12 learning environments, only 5 of the 99 studies focused on K-12 students. The majority of the research considered learning outcomes for college students, graduate students, and adults enrolled in professional training programs (participant ages ranged from 13-44). By its own admission, “most of the studies were modest in scope,” with sample sizes ranging from 16 to 1,857 (less than 5 of the studies had sample sizes over 400). While effect sizes were weighted based on sample sizes, these low sample sizes are worth noting when applying the findings to practice.
Search for Conclusive Evidence
Meta-analysis serves as an informative first pass, but should not be the final destination. National studies that systematically measure effects of technology engagement on learning over time, such as the UK’s CIBER report on the “Google Generation’s” information use or “UK Children Go Online,” provide strong examples for large-scale evaluation of the effects of technology on learning. The results of the Department of Education’s meta-analysis should not result in wholesale adoption of online curricula, but instead inform future large-scale comparative studies of online education.
