This is the view from my office at 4:00 every day — a cluster of mothers, acquiescing to their children’s begging, lingers after school while the youngsters stomp and shout on the nearby playground. The women stand together and chat. At their feet lie small sweatshirts, shed quickly and tossed sleeves inside out. Backpacks hang from their arms; lunchboxes hang from their fingers. If the weather is nice, they will stay for an hour or more. The children work off eight hours’ worth of academic input in whirls of jumping, running, and hanging from the monkey bars.
Recently my mother came to town for a visit. She arrived near the end of the school day, so she came directly to my school. She sat in my office while I monitored dismissal and the long line of buses, parent pick-ups, and day care vans until every child was safety accounted for. I returned to my office to see my mother standing at the window, gazing at the clump of mothers near the playground.
“Do they do this every day?”
“Pretty much,” I answered. “Unless it’s raining,” I added.
“For how long?”
“Until the kids get tired. A half hour, an hour? It varies,” I shrugged.
She was quiet for a moment. She seemed to marvel at this. “What do they –” she paused. “What in the world do they talk about?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I busied myself with some paperwork. “Who knows,” I said. Then I chuckled. “Actually, they probably talk about me.”
“About you?”
“Yep. They’re talking about me.”
I wasn’t kidding. In my role, I know I am criticized, judged, and scrutinized by teachers and parents alike. I have to set policy that is sometimes unpopular with certain groups of people. At times, I have to make decisions that are unpopular and upsetting. And I have to be able to stand by those decisions.
Fortunately, I honestly don’t mind if a group of parents is unhappy with my leadership. I make my difficult decisions with one thought in mind: What is best for kids? I hold my head high, steadfastly ignoring the naysayers, if I know my choices pass that test. Is this best for kids? Yes? Well then, it’s the right thing to do.
This confidence wasn’t always there. I spent years — years, I tell you! — as a bundle of nerves, hoping that people would understand and support my difficult decisions. I should be supported, right? Just because I was a nice person? Or because I was trying so hard? Or because I so obviously was not vindictive or cruel?
I shudder thinking of the sheer amount of wasted time I spent second-guessing myself and angsting over rumbles of discontent from those people who criticized my work.
But with confidence comes peace. Being confident in who we are and how we solve problems is liberating.
The same is true in our literacy decisions. We need to apply this same concept in our instruction of children. We need to teach confidence.
What would that look like?
For students who are worriers, or the ones who second-guess themselves constantly out of fear of being mocked by peers, literacy decisions can be difficult, even agonizing. Those students are out there. There’s the quiet meek little girl who reads the same series books as the cool girls so she’ll fit in. There’s the nonathletic boy who reads sports books because he thinks he should — that’s what boys do, right? There’s the student who writes his narrative about his summer vacation describing his trip to the beach — he hadn’t left town, but he can’t write about that. All his friends went to Disney after all. So he makes up a big fat lie and writes about it. There are students so afraid of making a faux paus with their peers that they fumble through their literacy decisions making all the wrong choices. All because they’re not confident.
What a waste.
Let’s enforce an anything-goes policy in our literacy classrooms. Let’s help our students find their passions and lead them to books and narratives about that.
Here are some questions we can ask our young readers and writers.
- What do you like?
- What do you care about?
- What do you worry about?
- What do you think about when you’re falling asleep?
- What do you wish you could be doing right now?
- Who do you wish you could be?
- Where are you when you’re most excited?
- When you are happy, what are you doing?
- What TV shows, movies, apps, and games do you like best?
- Do you wish you could visit a certain place?
Let’s ask our students these questions and listen carefully to their answers. Let’s help our students identify their interests and identities, and lead them to books and narratives that support their passions. Let’s pair them with students with similar interests so they can find a literacy friend. There is nothing better than bringing a pal along on our literary journey.
When a student’s literacy journey lights them up, and if they know it’s perfectly okay with their teachers and friends to read and write about what they love, confidence blooms. Confidence is a liberating state of mind. It allows us to shrug off what others are saying or thinking so we can enjoy our journey to the fullest.
