The Big Fresh August 27, 2016 Lindsay, Charlotte, and the Case for Sweaty Palms

In the measurement world, you set a goal and strive for it. In the universe of possibility, you set the context and let life unfold.

                                                                            Benjamin Zander
Lindsay, in second grade, gets to the final five pages of Charlotte’s Web and asks me to read aloud. Her palms are all sweaty, she tells me, and she’s having trouble holding the book. When I start to read, Lindsay stands up from the couch and paces around the living room, picks up a feather duster, dusts the furniture. I pause before reading the last two sentences. Charlotte’s demise is imminent. Lindsay turns to me with a panicked look and begins dusting my hair as I read, “Charlotte was dead. She died all alone.”

I recently watched a video featuring the work of Benjamin Zander, an orchestra conductor who has taken his philosophy of bringing out the best in each of his musicians to business organizations looking to revitalize their employees’ sense of purpose and commitment. Zander explains that inspired employees can be identified by their “shining eyes”: an unmistakable look of inspiration, respect, and passion. Often, these folks are in a “one-buttock” position as they work, that is, sitting forward on their chairs, perched on one butt cheek, like the most passionate piano players on their benches.  If you’re interested, check out his TED Talk here.

Zander’s shining eyes theory prompted me to wonder, what metric of achievement exists to document Lindsay’s extreme physical response to the finale of Charlotte’s Web?  What assignment requires teachers to look into a student’s eyes, hold her sweaty hands, observe her position in a chair, as evidence that she comprehended the story?

Lindsay doesn’t look at me when I close the book.  In an ill-advised move, I ask some probing questions; she ignores me, and retreats to her bedroom.  She shuts the door.  I can hear her several minutes later, talking through the story with a stuffed animal audience.

“It’s okay, Wilbur,” she says, attempting to use science to explain the unfairness of Charlotte’s death.  “Spiders don’t have a long life span.”

“Templeton,” I hear her admonish, “you have to be nicer to Wilbur now that Charlotte is gone.”

I am fortunate to spend time in schools with teachers whose classroom architecture, lesson plans, and interactions with children reflect a focus on the experience of reading. They’re the kinds of teachers who don’t ignore the data from standardized measures of achievement, but who understand that those numbers are simply a chapter in the whole story of a child’s learning. They’re teachers who understand that they are raising lifelong readers, not grade-level readers.

Zander’s audiences include ministers, CEOs, doctors, athletes, politicians, and teachers.  He urges every kind of leader to see his or her role as “awakening the possibility in others.” In the classroom, that would be our learning target—awaken possibility in our students.  The evidence that students met the target could be captured by a camera and added to a student’s portfolio: photos of shining eyes, sitting on one buttock, slippery palms. Teachers can add to the list of those signs that say a student got it, that she truly connected with her learning.

As I turn my attention to a new school year and my work with intermediate-age readers, I’m going to keep this question from Zander in mind: Who am I being when I am not seeing a connection in the eyes of others?  I’m even more comfortable with a revised version of that question: How will I know I’m seeing a connection between my students and what they read, and how can we collaborate to document the evidence?  Asking readers to tell us how they “got it” as well as watching and listening might be the best evidence-based tool teachers have in their assessment kits.

This week we look at books children love that challenge teachers in different ways. Plus more as always — enjoy!

Suzy Kaback

Contributor, Choice Literacy
Suzy Kaback is an associate professor of literacy education at St. Catherine University in Minnesota.

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