Timothy Rasinski, Ph.D. Kent State University

“It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge.”

Albert Einstein

“I would teach children music, physics, and philosophy; but most importantly music, for the patterns in music and all the arts are the keys to learning.”

Plato

“Art has the means of keeping alive the sense of purposes that outrun evidence and of meanings that transcend habit.”

John Dewey

            The impetus for this blog comes from something I have been thinking about for a number of years. I hope that this may be the impetus for more of us sharing our thoughts about the importance of the art as well as the science of teaching reading.

I have a confession to make.  My undergraduate degree is in economics. In my mid-twenties, after encouragement from many of my friends, I decided to become a teacher. To be honest, I thought becoming a teacher would be rather easy.  After all, I went through school and was reasonably successful.  I should know how it’s done.

            Well, I was in for a bit of a shock. Teaching is not easy at all. It is essential for a democratic and productive society, it is enormously satisfying and joyful, but it is definitely not easy.   My respect for teaching and teachers grew exponentially during my first few years of teaching (and it continues to grow). Teaching is one of the most challenging professions into which a person can enter. And, I think a major reason for the challenge of teaching in general, and the teaching of reading in particular, is that effective reading instruction requires teachers to apply what has been learned through scientific study of reading and reading instruction.    However, effective instruction in reading also requires teachers to be artists. Teachers have to be both – artists and scientists.

            Currently, there is a growing recognition of the importance of the science of reading (SOR) for reading instruction. The science of reading directs that successful instruction in reading includes systematic and explicit instruction in the key scientifically determined reading competencies – phonics and phonemic awareness, vocabulary, reading fluency, and comprehension.  

            Publishers and curricula developers have used these scientific competencies to develop reading curricula and materials that are, in many cases, largely scripted.  That is, teachers are directed to implement the program nearly word for word as is stated in the teacher’s guide.   It’s called fidelity. Among the problems that come with such programs are that they do not necessarily meet the individual needs of many students, and teachers can become alienated from their reading instruction and removed from important instructional decision-making in their classrooms.  Moreover, there is a lack of compelling scientific evidence that such scripted and scientific program lead to generalized improvements in reading for students. Note that reading achievement in the United States has barely budged since the report of the National Reading Panel, nearly 20 years ago,  that gave credence to the science of reading. Reading First, a national program for bringing scientific approaches into primary grade reading instruction, had little impact on student reading achievement.  

            Why have we not seen the progress that was anticipated by the science of reading?   I think that a significant concern is that we have not embraced the idea that effective teaching reading is an art as well as a science, and that teachers need to be artists as well as scientists. We need to allow teachers the creative freedom to develop and implement scientifically based reading curriculum that is engaging, playful, authentic, esthetic, and effective. In effect, I propose that we provide teachers with scientifically validated end-of-year benchmarks in phonics, vocabulary, fluency, and comprehension and then give teachers the creative license and professional support to achieve those benchmarks.   

Teachers will still teach phonics, but instead of exclusive use of highly scripted and monotonous tasks, drills, and worksheets that often accompany such instruction, students might be regularly engaged in guided word play and not realize that although they are having fun with words, they are also developing mastery over words. For example, have you noticed all the games we play for fun as adults that are, in essence, word games?  And have you noticed that if you are a regular player of Scrabble or Words with Friends or Boggle you generally improve in your playing over time? Improving your game is evidence of learning.   If adults love word games wouldn’t children?   And yet, in many classrooms, games and play are often locked away or reserved only for when the “work” is done.   

Several years ago, I developed a game-like word activity (based on the work of Pat Cunningham and Isabel Beck) called word ladders. In a word ladder students make a series of words by manipulating each previous word (e.g. start with “cat” and change one letter to make a large mouse or rodent – “rat”;  change one letter in ‘rat” to make something a baseball player uses when at the plate – “bat,” and so on). To make it into a game the first and last words in each word ladder are related in some way – base to ball, dog to cat. Although children are playing a game in which they try to determine each new word on the ladder from the clues given, the activity itself requires students to consider deeply how words are encoded, decoded, and have meaning.

For another example, consider reading fluency, also a scientifically validated reading competency. Scientific research tells us that through rereadings (repeated readings) of texts students develop fluency over the passage practiced but also greater fluency (and comprehension) over new passages they have never before seen. That’s the science of fluency.  The art of fluency take this scientific notion and asks, “how do we get students to read a text repeatedly in authentic and meaningful ways?”   One artful answer to that question is found in the notion of theater and performance.   If students know that they will be asked to perform a poem, or a song, or a script for an audience they have an authentic and motivating reason for rereadings, or as they say in the theater – rehearsal. Moreover, not only does rehearsal of this sort lead to automatic recognition of the words in the passage, it also encourages students to read with an expression that reflects the meaning of the text – both are part of the science of reading fluency.

Art and science are not mutually exclusive endeavors.   Indeed, scientists generally have a great appreciation for art; and artists often take inspiration from concepts of science.  The great challenge is for teachers of reading, much like practitioners of medicine, to find ways to make the science of reading come to life in artful and authentic ways in their classrooms.   And the challenge for us who support teachers is to grant permission and provide professional support and encouragement that allows teachers to become the instructional scientists and artists that will create a revolution in literacy achievement.

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

Daily Word Ladders by Timothy Rasinski

Create positive change with TeamMakers by Laura Robb and Evan Robb

Follow Tim on Twitter @TimRasinski1

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?”

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