Timothy Rasinski, Ph.D.

In my previous blog posting for The Robb Review, I focused on what should be the real goal of phonics instruction – to get kids to the point where they don’t have to use phonics much in their reading.  We want students to be so proficient and efficient at word recognition that minimal attention is given to word decoding and maximum attention can be directed toward comprehension.   Staying with this theme of reading instruction goals, I’d like to focus on reading fluency and state right off the bat that the goal of fluency instruction should not be to make kids read fast. It has been this incessant focus on increasing reading speed, I think, that has unfortunately given reading fluency a bad rep.

What is Reading Fluency?

Fluency has been called the neglected goal of the reading program (and it is) (Allington, 1983); it has also been called the bridge from word recognition to comprehension.     I like that bridge metaphor a lot. Fluency is the critical link to making meaning while reading. There are two components to fluency. The first is automaticity in word recognition – the ability to recognize words so effortlessly that most of a reader’s attention can be devoted to comprehension.   Automaticity is the part of the bridge that links to word recognition.

The other part of the fluency bridge is called prosody or reading with expression.  This is the link to comprehension. When a reader reads with appropriate expression that reflects the meaning of the text, she is striving to comprehend that text.    This is the part of fluency that is often neglected in instruction; yet it is critical for comprehension to occur, even when reading silently.

How Should We Teach Fluency?

As with anything we want to become fluent at (e.g., speaking, driving, golf, cooking), fluency is developed through practice.   In reading, we have several forms of practice that can and should be employed. These forms of practice include wide reading, assisted reading where a reader reads while simultaneously hearing a fluent reading of the same text by a partner or recording, and repeated reading where a reader reads a text several times until she achieves fluency on that text (Rasinski, 2010).    In all these forms of practice the goal should be reading for meaning, and if reading orally, to read with appropriate expression that conveys meaning to anyone who may be listening.

How Does Reading Speed Fit into the Fluency Equation?

Reading speed (words read correctly per minute) is an indicator of word recognition automaticity and is often called the oral reading fluency (ORF) score.   The more automatic or effortless you are in recognizing words in text, the faster your reading becomes, AND the more attention you can devote to comprehending the text as opposed to analyzing the words in the text.    Reading speed is an indicator or consequence of the fluency component of automaticity, BUT it is not fluency. Our reading speed increases as our fluency improves, not the other way around. I often say that I want our children to become fast readers just the way I am and all of you reading this blog are reasonably fast readers;  but I want them to become fast the same way we all became fast readers – through lots and lots of authentic practice in reading.

So go ahead and use DIBELS and AimsWeb ORF scores, or Hasbrouck and Tindal’s norms (Words Correct per Minute) cautiously and sparingly as indicators of students’ growth in automaticity, but please please please do not let children think that you are trying to get them to read faster.   The increase in reading speed (as well as improvements in reading with expression) will happen with authentic reading practice, not with overt instruction or implied emphasis on reading fast.

Fluency is More than Automaticity

A few years ago I came across recordings of arguably two of the most fluently read speeches in American  history – Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream Speech” and John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address “Ask Not What Your Country…”  I subjected the oral readings of both of these speeches to an ORF (reading speed) assessment. In both cases, Dr. King and President Kennedy’s readings of their speeches may have landed them in a remedial reading class based on their very low ORF scores.  I am sure they were both automatic in their word recognition, and they could have read those speeches quickly. But doing so would have taken away from the meaning they were trying to convey. Because they were automatic in their recognition of the words in their speeches they were able to devote their attention to making and elaborating on the meaning they wished to share orally. They raised and lowered their voices, had dramatic pauses, changed volume and tone in order to more effectively deliver their intended meanings to their audiences.   What truly made those speeches fluent was not the speed, but the expression (prosody) that they embedded in their readings.

For fluency instruction to truly work we need to see the goal of fluency as expressive oral (and silent) reading that reflects the meaning of the text.    When we make expressive and meaningful reading of texts the true goal of fluency (and avoid putting emphasis on fast reading) we will see significant improvements in reading comprehension (as well as reading speed).

You can find resources on teaching accurate and automatic word recognition and expressive prosodic reading (i.e. fluency) at Tim’s own website – www.timrasinski.com

Please check out Tim’s book on reading fluency (written with Melissa Cheesman Smith) – The Megabook of Fluency published by Scholastic.

Follow Tim on Twitter! @TimRasinski1

References

Allington, R.L. (1983).  Fluency: The neglected reading goal.  The Reading Teacher, 36, 556-561.

Hasbrouck, J., & Tindal, G. A. (2006) Oral reading fluency norms: A valuable assessment tool for reading teachers. The Reading Teacher, 59(7), 636-644.

Rasinski, T. V. (2010).  The fluent reader:  Oral and silent reading strategies for building word recognition, fluency, and comprehension (2nd edition).  New York: Scholastic.

By David L. Harrison

I know poets with Ph.D. in front of their names. They lecture about poetry, write books about poetry, and their poems appear in erudite journals and magazines. I know poets who learned their trade by taking classes and workshops, reading poetry, and writing a lot of their own. And I know poets who are tone-deaf, metrically challenged and have little chance of ever being published. But from the amateur to the renowned, all these poets write for the same reason: they love to write poems. There’s another category of poets I know: teachers, who find themselves facing the annual, obligatory poetry unit with the same enthusiasm with which they greet preparing their taxes. It’s one thing to write poems because you want to. Writing them because you have to, especially in front of a classroom of kids watching, can be quite another matter. But it doesn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t be.

When I made up my first poem, I was hungry and tired of waiting. My mother was frying fish in the kitchen and I was sent to the living room to wait for dinner. The words I thought of expressed my need. I liked the way they sounded. “Sometimes I wish/I had a fish/upon a little dish.” No one told me I had to make up a poem. I was six years old so I could do anything. Seven decades later I’m still making up poems. The reason hasn’t changed: it’s a fun thing to do. Writing poems makes me feel good. Writing well is neither simple nor easy but it provides me with a sense of gratification that drives my desire to do it again. I keep paper and pen close by. I stash them in my bedroom, my car, my pockets. If there’s anything I’m better at than finding enticing ideas at unexpected times and places, it’s forgetting them if I don’t quickly scratch out a note.

I write poems because I can’t not write poems. No other form of writing can do for me what poetry can. In a few words I can express my thoughts and feelings about anything that attracts my interest—from wanting a fish upon a dish to the day our daughter was born. This works across the board for everyone from beginner to old pro to teacher showing kids how to do it. What other genre of writing can give us such a range of opportunities?

None.

Unless our ultimate goal is to see our work published, how good we are at writing poems is not as important as the fact that we can write poems. Few people have time or fortitude to tackle a story, much less a novel, but anyone can write a poem and receive the rewards that only true self-expression can provide. Studies show that young people who write poems expand their vocabularies, feel more acutely the natural rhythms flowing through our language, and learn to think more clearly, become more fluent readers and better speakers. Who can say that adults don’t receive similar benefits?

The last few decades have attracted a growing number of poets who specialize in writing for young readers to help entice them to write poems of their own. Many such poems appeal to readers of all ages. Where is the line between “big kids’” poetry and “little kids”’ poetry? For sure some poems meant for adult readers are too dense or sophisticated for young readers. But in many cases, it’s hard to say where or whether a line exists. When children can understand the work of a poet laureate (such as Billy Collins or Ted Kooser) and adults can like poems by “children’s” poets, the issue seems moot. When poems can be shared by so many readers, that alone is worth celebrating.

Where does a love for poetry begin? For many, it starts in kindergarten. Teachers who “marinate” their kids in poetry, as Bernice Cullinan (2006) urges, never wait until their poetry unit rolls around to read a poem to their kids. They do it every day. They know the advantages of involving poetry in every aspect of their teaching. This is not new news. Kathy A. Perfect (1999) wrote, “I could not imagine teaching a day without poetry in my classroom. It starts our day, shapes our day, and sometimes helps us get through the day.” Fast forward to Susan Hutchens (2018, personal correspondence), a Colorado teacher, who urges, “Always make room for poetry with students during times other than the obligatory poetry unit. In fact, be willing to add poetry whenever an interest arises.”

Is so much attention to poetry making a difference among young adults? Sunil Iyengar, NEA director of research and analysis, reported in June, 2018 that “twenty-eight million American adults read poetry this year — the highest percentage of poetry readership in more than 15 years…Young adults and certain racial ethnic groups account for a large portion of the increase. U.S. poetry readers aged 18 to 24 more than doubled…Among people of color, African Americans and Asian Americans are reading poetry at the highest rates — which more than doubled in the last five years.”

When my mother got married as a young woman, she gave up her secretarial job to become a stay-at-home wife and eventually raise two children. One day in her 90s, she casually mentioned to my sister and me that she had been writing poems since before we were born. She produced a shoebox filled with her poems, each handwritten on lined tablet paper. Writing poetry had been her secret delight over a lifetime. Her work wasn’t written to be published. But her love for words and writing made her a perfect coach for a 6-year-old wishing for a fish upon a dish. Not all teachers write better poems than their charges may write one day. That isn’t the point. What matters is that teachers who write poems because they love to are the ones most likely to pass that love along through their kids into the future. What a gift!

© David L. Harrison

David L. Harrison.com

David’s Blog

Cullinan, E.B. (2006), Galda, L. and Cullinan, E.B. Literature and the child. Harcourt        Brace Jovanovich

Hutchens, S. (2018) Personal correspondence. Livermore, CO

Iyengar, S. (2018, June). Reading tends to be a portal to other types of participation and           other types of engagement, in the arts and outside the arts. PBS News Hour.    Available at https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/poetry/how-young-writers-are      leading-a-poetry comeback?utm_source=Publishers%20Weekly&utm_campaign=8909d8c26c            EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2018_07_12_09_58&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_0   b2959cbb-8909d8c26c-305355025

Perfect, K.A. (1999, April). Rhyme and reason: poetry for the heart and head. The           Reading Teacher. V. 52, N. 7, P. 728. Newark, DE. International Reading         Association. Available at    https://www.jstor.org/stable/20204675?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents.

By: Lester Laminack

I’m going to risk making the assumption that each of you, at some point, has heard someone say, “if these walls could talk…”  It has been my experience that folks say something like that when walking through historic buildings, old or abandoned houses, and in buildings where either tragedy or scandal has occurred. Yet, it occurs to me that the walls of our schools do indeed talk. In fact, I think they have much to say to anyone willing to listen.

Many years ago, I was given one of my most interesting and memorable tasks as a consultant. When I arrived at the school, I was met at the front door by the principal who held a digital camera in her hand. “School hasn’t begun just yet,” she said. “The children are still arriving, so I’d like you to take this (camera) and stroll about the building. Feel free to move in and out of any space, we are all used to visitors here. I’d like you to snap photos of anything that catches your attention, causes you to pause, puzzles or intrigues you, anything—positive or negative. Seriously, snap a photo of anything you value or question or wonder about. Then, around ten o’clock I’d like you to meet with me in my office. I want to download the photos on my computer and go through them with you. I want to hear what our school speaks to you, to know if we project what we proclaim.”

Seriously, this was my task for the first few hours of that day. It remains one of the most fascinating tasks I’ve been assigned as a consultant. No other administrator has ever asked this of me since. 

I moved through the hallways thinking that I would walk through the entire building and get a feel for the place before snapping any photos. As I strolled, I was struck again and again by the presence of student art on display. It was presented as if I were in a museum. There were display cases for smaller pieces including three-dimensional works, as well as paintings and sketches on easels. In corners and stairwells, I found pedestals with larger pieces that could be viewed from all sides. Then, I came upon a large section of the wall covered in matte black fabric to create a display space in a hallway. Hanging in the center of the display was a famous print, of generous proportion, from an artist with historic renown. The print was tastefully matted, like something you’d hang in your home. There were smaller pieces done in a style similar to the featured masterwork. These smaller pieces were the works of students and it was clear that they were created by artists ranging from four to twelve years of age. The student works were not clustered by grade or age level and they shared the spotlight equally. Each piece of student work was presented as a serious work of art, matted in a manner similar to the masterwork. Placed carefully among the various student pieces were small placards with statements noting how the student artist had employed a technique learned from a study of the renowned artist being featured. A length of yarn was attached to each student piece and ran to some point in the masterwork drawing the viewer’s eye to the stated connection. In addition, there was a placard (about 10”x14”) listing out the standards these artists were working on as they studied the renowned artist and created these pieces.

All this was so carefully displayed to center children in the creation of art. There was a clear celebration of the genius of childhood, the exuberance of creativity, and the joy of producing the work.

This was in contrast to what I found when exploring the writing of children on display. As I strolled through the halls, pausing outside the classroom after classroom the most typical presentation of writing was a collection of stories neatly written and organized around a shared topic (The Worst Day Ever, The Best Surprise, I Was Never More Frightened). Each piece in a given collection shared a common opening line, a set of transition phrases, the same general organization, and an obvious lack of spelling or grammar “errors.”

What struck me most in this contrast is how differently we view and celebrate children when the product of their effort is something graded for the report card and “valued” by a score on a standardized test. I was soaring with joy when I encountered the child in each piece of art. No two pieces looked the same. There was no obvious effort to have them attempt to replicate the masterwork. Instead, the focus was on the technique of the artist—the use of color and line, and materials to execute an intention. Those attempts were celebrated as they were evidenced in each piece. And the celebration of those attempts was given a place of honor and respect alongside the masterwork.

By contrast it was not the child being celebrated in the writing displayed in the halls. Rather, it was the standard/conventional spellings, the standard/conventional use of punctuation, the adherence to the organizational frame and use of the prescribed transition phrases that were centered in their writing. 

There were many other wonderful things those walls whispered, and chanted, and cheered about that morning. There was so much to celebrate in that school, but the best conversation was delving into an exploration of how we could center and celebrate the child in the writing work in a way that would parallel the pride and joy so obvious in the art.

“…if these walls could talk…” Well, friends, they do. Now the question is, “do they project what we proclaim?”

Lester’s books are on Amazon!

Learn more about Lester Laminack, check out his website!

Follow Lester on Twitter @lester_laminack

By Barbara Bray, author of Define Your Why

For most of my life, I have been a teacher, a coach, and a mentor supporting educators. Something is different now. There is a sense of urgency for us to rethink the idea of “school” and what it means to be a teacher, a principal, and a learner. Many educators have told me they felt lost. Even before the pandemic, several told me that they felt like they went down the wrong path and were living someone else’s story. 

“The two most important days in life are the day you are born,
and the day you discover the reason why.” Mark Twain

We have many different experiences throughout our lives that make us who we are today. You may not even realize the forces that affected you in your past and may still affect you today. My journey took me down different paths that made me who I am today. I wrote my book, Define Your WHY, about the process I went through to define my purpose and learned the importance of all of our stories. All of us have a backstory and stories connect us.

Your story is about YOU. Everyone has a story. You are YOU. You are unique. There is no one like you in the whole world. You know you better than anyone else. Even though you know you, you may not know some important things about you. 

“The whole story is about you. You are the main character.”

Don Miguel Ruiz

Think of yourself as the main character in a book you may write one day. Even if you don’t want to write a book, you can learn from literary characters to help you define you. Any book you read has magic in it. Reading brings you into someone else’s world. Some books take you to places you never thought you could go. Your imagination takes you on the main character’s journey. There are ways you can connect to a character through their qualities or characteristics. 

Look at the four qualities I came up with for the two main characters below:

• Alice from Alice in Wonderland: curious, adventurous, brave, and kind. 
• Harold from Harold and the Purple Crayon: creative, imaginative, excited, and curious.

You may have come up with different qualities than I did for these main characters. That’s okay. When you read a book, it is personal for you. How you feel as you read any book is personal. Think about a book you read where you really connected with the main character. What are the qualities of the main character that stood out for you? 

During the pandemic, I’m reading more. I’m reading biographies, non-fiction, educational books, children’s books, memories, and fiction.

Journalling is my way of keeping track of my challenges, my progress, and my characteristics. Family, friends, and colleagues have told me that I am Curious, Creative, Kind, and Silly. My parents used to tell me I was a curious soul and very silly. I love to write and design. I try to be kind. I wasn’t sure if these four are really me so I asked myself questions about them. These six questions stood out for me:

• What do I do now to be curious? 
• Does my curiosity help me become more creative? 
• How do I keep myself focused on being creative and my writing?
• Am I silly more than I am serious?
• How can we encourage kindness in schools? 
• What can I do to spread kindness?

Think about four characteristics about you. Write those down. Ask yourself questions about your characteristics like I did to take them deeper. I mentioned before that some people felt that they were renting someone else’s story. Let’s make sure you share yours as the chief storyteller of YOU. 

“You either walk inside your story and own it, or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness.” — Brené Brown

I went for years being afraid to share my story or tell what I believed. I always wanted to write but never thought I had a story to tell or that my story was worthy. At first, I wasn’t sure of my purpose. It took me some time to figure out that my purpose has always been about the stories. You may not want to write but I know you have a story. No matter who you are or what you do, when you get to know more about you, you will find that you are worth caring about and fighting for. 

If you don’t want to write, read a book or watch a movie. Then talk about what you found out about the characters or the theme with others. If you are a teacher, encourage your students to share stories through their own story, their family’s story, or about a book they read. 

We need our connections and stories now more than ever with people who care about us because we matter. You matter. Your story matters. The power of stories especially during these uncertain times connects us. 

Website/Blog: Rethinking Learning 

Podcast: Rethinking Learning Podcast 

Co-author: Make Learning Personal and How to Personalize Learning

Author Define Your Why

Twitter: @bbray27