Sometimes, you read a book so special that you want to carry it around for months after you’ve finished just to stay near it.
—Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
R. L. LaFevers’s young adult fantasy, Grave Mercy, took over my life. Following seventeen-year-old Ismae’s journey from damaged child to empowered assassin for Death enthralled me. I spent every free moment reading the book and burned through all 549 pages in four days. Few other books I have read this year captivated me like Grave Mercy, but I recognize why I enjoyed it so much. Beyond the wonderful writing, Grave Mercy possesses the qualities I enjoy most in books.
I like lengthy books with extensive storylines spanning years. I gravitate toward fantasy tomes like The Lord of the Rings or historical fiction epics like Edward Rutherfurd’s Sarum. I enjoy books that include complex relationships and plot lines between large casts of primary and secondary characters. I like strong women and rakish bad boys with noble hearts. I fancy a good battle or tasteful love scene, but nothing too explicit, please. For me, Grave Mercy perfectly suits my tastes.
As a teenager, I read popular historical works like Alex Haley’s Roots, E. L. Doctorow’s Ragtime, and Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry, along with horror novels like Ann Rice’s Interview with a Vampire and Stephen King’s The Stand. My sister, Abbie, and I walked a mile to the public library every Saturday. Unable to carry an armload of books home, I discovered James Michener and John Irving while scanning the shelves for a book that looked long enough to last me an entire week. I kept an emergency stash of paperbacks in my closet just in case I finished my library book before the next Saturday.
These days, a glimpse at my nightstand reveals my diverse reading interests and purposes. I typically have two or three books going at a time. I am slowly reading Peter Johnston’s Opening Minds, stopping often to reflect on his ideas. Reading one brilliant essay each day in The Essential Don Murray inspires me to write. I listen to audio books in the car during my long commute. Chad Harbach’s best seller, The Art of Fielding, is my current choice. Bored with the young adult paranormal romance craze, I am reading Justine Larbalestier’s and Sarah Rees Brennan’s vampire romance satire, Team Human. I think my daughter, Sarah, might like it next. If not, I will pass it along to my high school colleagues.
Shaped by decades of reading, my preferences grew from thousands of reading experiences. I know what I like in a book and I know why. Open-minded and always looking for another great book, I will try almost anything, but when I feel restless and dissatisfied with a few books in a row, I wander back to the same sorts of books I read when I was sixteen. I am a middle-aged English teacher from Texas, but in my dreams, I am Eowyn, shieldmaiden of the Rohan.
Our Wild Reader Survey respondents exhibit a staggering array of reading preferences. Since the majority of our respondents work with children and teachers in classrooms, libraries, or children’s publishers, Susie and I were not surprised that almost 100 percent of participants shared our love for children’s and young adult literature. These wild readers did not limit their reading solely to children’s books, however. Respondents read a lot of everything—indicating a breadth of reading experiences that included books published for adults, professional texts, and books for younger audiences.
Asking survey participants to identify their favorite authors challenged and dismayed more than one reader who claimed, “You really know how to hurt a person,” or, “I have stared at the screen for four minutes and I can’t decide.” Over a thousand titles from all age ranges and genres appear on our Wild Readers’ list of favorites, from classics like A Wrinkle in Time and Wuthering Heights, to modern best sellers like The Art of Racing in the Rain and Twilight, to professional and nonfiction titles like The Outliers and Readicide. The complete list of wild readers’ favorites can be found on my Slideshare page at www.slideshare.net/donalynm.
Wild readers named eight hundred authors among their favorites—a staggering list of literary greats and popular writers. It’s hard to imagine another list that includes both Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy and Jeff Kinney, the author of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. Several participants named poets, playwrights, and short story authors like Shakespeare, Langston Hughes, and Edgar Allen Poe, as well as book authors.
Although every genre received hundreds of votes, our Wild Reader Survey respondents prefer realism over fantasy—selecting realistic fiction, historical fiction, biographies, and nonfiction as their favorites in greater numbers than fantasy, science fiction, and traditional literature such as mythology, legends, and fairytales. Many readers suggested their own categories for books when they found our survey choices too limiting—naming travel guides, self-help books, and devotionals on their lists of favorites in addition to our genre categories.
No part of our Wild Reader Survey provoked more manipulation and additional commentary from participants than the preferences section. Over two hundred respondents crammed the comment field of every question with personal remarks—contributing their own genres, offering testimonials about their favorite books and authors, or chiding Susie and me for asking them to identify a few favorites in the first place. It seems wild readers’ broad reading tastes and experiences defy neat categorization, which compelled respondents to bend our survey to fit their definitions.
Examining avid adult readers’ favorites led Susie and me to investigate our students’ reading preferences. Given an opportunity to develop common definitions for genres and lead students’ discussions of their favorites before asking them to complete a survey yielded more reliable results than our free-wheeling adult readers did. Asking students to examine and share their reading preferences created a reflective opportunity that celebrated their reading accomplishments and growth, while providing Susie and me with insight into the types of books our students read and enjoy. Now we consider students’ preferences when designing genre requirements, planning units of study, making book recommendations to students and colleagues, and purchasing books for our classroom libraries.
When asked to select their favorite genre, our students showed narrower preferences in the books they like to read than our Wild Reader Survey participants. Three genres—traditional literature, biographies, and nonfiction texts—received only a handful of votes, and fantasy and science fiction were overwhelming favorites. Science-fiction fans declared that they enjoyed reading about “a future where anything could be possible” or they liked “the cool gadgets and technology.” Fantasy aficionados found that these stories were “usually the most interesting and unique” and “there are no limits to what can happen.” Both fantasy and science-fiction readers reported that these genres “have a lot of action” and allow readers “to let you see into someone else’s imagination.”
Many of our students enjoy reading realistic fiction books, a preference shared by the majority of the adults we surveyed. Asked to explain why she prefers realistic fiction, Courteney said, “I like realistic fiction because I can relate to the situations, and sometimes if it is the right book, I can actually get some tips for what I’m going through because the character is going through the same situation.” Several students felt that realistic fiction is “relatable” to their lives, and they connected to the characters and their problems. A few students remarked that they liked “everything” and couldn’t choose a favorite genre, while three students indicated that they enjoyed reading romance stories in any genre. Zoe admitted, “I love to read about love.”
Determining students’ reading preferences helps teachers match books with readers. Valuing their tastes shows our students that we trust them to make their own decisions about what they read. Students’ preferences should hold as much sway in the classroom community as ours. When three students asked to poll their classmates about their favorite books for a reading door display, I admit that I was not enthusiastic about some of the winning titles. It didn’t matter whether I liked these books. My students’ choices were celebrated (figure 5.1). It is easy to connect with students who like the same books we do, but we cannot let our personal reading preferences become biases that limit students’ reading. We must push ourselves to read widely in order to best serve our students—as role models who read for diverse purposes and reading advisors who know a lot about books that appeal to all types of readers. The more widely we read, the more expertise we offer to our students.
FIGURE 5.1 Students polled classmates about their favorite books.
Expressed preferences reveal a lot about students’ reading experiences and book knowledge and provide us with information about whether students have read much in the past, but preferences are not always informed opinions. True preferences come from wide reading and lots of positive encounters with books. Sometimes students’ stated preferences reveal they haven’t read much. When Hunter, one of my students, expresses his reading preferences in vague generalizations like “scary books” or “funny books,” I know he lacks reading experience and may struggle when self-selecting books. Conversely, when Eric tells me he reads “fantasy series like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter,” his preferences show some familiarity with books, series, authors, or genres that inform future book choices. Some students rattle off specific authors, genres, or titles, but deeper discussion reveals they haven’t read these books. No matter what our conversations with students reveal about their reading tastes, we gain insight into their reading experiences.
Students’ preferences provide a starting point for building positive reading relationships between us and our students. At first, we can build students’ confidence by offering books that meet their tastes. As the school year progresses, deeper knowledge about each student’s reading experiences and abilities helps us stretch students beyond their comfort zones and offer a wider menu of books, genres, and writing styles. Sarah, our daughter, showed a distaste for science-fiction books in elementary school because she didn’t want to read about robots and aliens—her perception of the genre. After sampling books like Divergent and Rot and Ruin, her appreciation for science fiction evolved as her genre knowledge expanded. Wild readers’ preferences become more valuable, reliable, and accurate the more they read.
Thinking about my students, I see one hundred individuals with their own likes and dislikes. Cole eats crunchy snacks every day. Anthony plays football during recess. Kaitlin likes pink, but Sarah detests it. My students’ reading tastes represent their individual personalities and experiences, too. Reading preferences guide wild readers when selecting books—helping readers identify, preview, and evaluate books they might like to read. Secure in their preferences, wild readers possess confidence and self-efficacy, using their knowledge of books and vast reading experiences to evaluate new reading material using information from texts they enjoyed in the past.
Preferences are not fixed. Wild readers move between different types of reading material depending on their needs and interests at any given time. As readers and texts become more sophisticated, tastes may change. Connecting to particular authors or subject matter shapes readers’ preferences, too. While wild readers express diverse preferences in what they like to read, certain trends in reading tastes emerge that apply to many. You will undoubtedly recognize readers you know when considering these types of reading preferences.
Wild readers develop attachments to beloved authors and types of stories, returning to the same sorts of books again and again. Finishing Lisa Graff’s Umbrella Summer, a tender story about a girl moving on after her brother’s death, Parker asks me, “Why do you always recommend sad books to me, Mrs. Miller?”
I answer, “Because you like them.”
Parker smiles sheepishly and says, “Yeah, I guess I do.”
I know that Parker enjoys realistic fiction stories about children suffering great losses like death and heartbreak. Recognizing her preferences helps me suggest books that value her fondness for sad books and introduce her to authors and stories she might not discover on her own. When she asks for recommendations, I suggest Leslie Connor’s Waiting for Normal and Sonya Sones’s One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies, encouraging her to seek out new writing styles and formats. Over the year, Parker branches into more historical fiction and poetry—feeding her preferences while expanding her reading experiences.
Expand students’ reading repertoire while acknowledging the preferences they already express. Offer readers with strong genre preferences read-alike titles with similar themes or storylines and suggest authors who write books in multiple genres.
Every year I have a few students who obsessively read nonfiction at the expense of everything else. Cleaning lockers after winter break, Kenna, our class locker captain, reports that Kinsey, whose locker is next to hers, has library books spilling out of his locker. Walking down the hall to investigate, I help Kinsey stack books and determine whether each title belongs to the school library, our classroom library, or his personal collection. As Kinsey removes each book from his locker, he recites the title or topic, “Lizards, Solar System, cars, trains, Vietnam War…”
Listening to Kinsey’s litany, I notice that every book is nonfiction. Through my conferences with Kinsey, I know that he doesn’t have much tolerance for stories and enjoys reading to increase his knowledge about the vast list of topics that consume his interests. When making book recommendations, I suggest historical fiction titles like Walter Dean Myer’s Fallen Angels and Letters from Wolfie by Patti Sherlock—books that expand his knowledge of the Vietnam War. I continue to offer nonfiction texts—introducing Kinsey to nonfiction authors like Jim Murphy and Sy Montgomery, which increases his ability to find more books to read.
Many readers feed their reading lives through popular series, following characters and storylines through several books. Series provide support to developing readers and help ambitious readers read deeply—developing expertise and competence. Struggling to connect Abbie with books, I decided that Lisi Harrison’s Clique series was a perfect fit. Abbie was a queen bee who loved designer clothes and dominated her girlfriends. Harrison’s mean girl characters helped Abbie work through some of the personal friendship drama she encountered during the year and improved her reading engagement and ability along the way.
If we value all readers, we must value all reading. While I do not include magazines in our class reading requirements, I discuss with my students the magazines and websites they read and offer magazines like Muse and Kids Discover for them to read. I admit that my appreciation for graphic novels took time. Ignorant of the format, I categorized graphic novels as light reading that didn’t provide the rigor or depth that full-length books do. In fact, light reading holds surprising benefits and often launches wild reading habits. As Stephen Krashen and Joanne Ujiie (2005) assert, “Many people are fearful that if children engage in ‘light reading,’ if they read comics and magazines they will stay with this kind of reading forever, that they will never go on to more ‘serious’ reading. The opposite appears to be the case. The evidence suggests that light reading provides the competence and motivation to continue reading and to read more demanding texts” (p. 6).
In the past, I recommended graphic novels to students who did not enjoy reading or possess the stamina for longer texts. Unwilling to see graphic novels as anything more than compromise offerings for students who wouldn’t read, I felt that reading graphic novels was better than not reading at all.
Working with Armann in my class changed my mind. Armann did not enjoy reading when he began sixth grade. His mother expressed concern during Meet the Teacher night and agreed that she was willing to do “whatever it takes” to get Armann to read more. Although I plied Armann with books in the early days of the school year, he expressed little interest or enthusiasm. Spying a stack of new graphic novels on my desk, Armann asked about Kazu Kibuishi’s Amulet series, a popular choice with my students. I loaned Armann the first four titles, and he began flipping through them. Two days later, he returned the books, declared them to be “awesome,” and asked for more graphic novels. He read entire series like Bone by Jeff Smith and Babymouse by Jennifer and Matt Holm.
As the school year progressed, Armann moved on to more challenging titles like Gareth Hinds’s Beowulf and The Odyssey. Other students began consulting Armann about different titles, and he became our resident graphic novel expert, engaging in sophisticated conversations about the artwork and storylines of numerous titles. I realized that every lesson I taught about reading and writing, Armann applied to the graphic novels he read. His skills reading more traditional text improved because he practiced what he learned with his beloved graphic novels every day.
By the end of the year, Armann was trekking to the library and the bookstore to find graphic novels we didn’t have in our school library and recommending titles to our school librarian and me. He introduced me to Carla Jablonski’s World War II graphic novel, Resistance, and Hope Larson’s Mercury, two titles I bought, read, and added to our class library. Because of Armann’s passion and expertise, I became more knowledgeable about graphic novels and found more reasons to use them in our classroom. Armann’s confidence in himself and his reading skills grew. Armann became a wild reader because of graphic novels, and I became a better teacher because of him.
Dedicated to learning more about the format, I spent that summer reading every book on the YALSA’s Great Graphic Novels for Teen lists (http://www.ala.org/yalsa/ggnt). Admitting my ignorance about what defined an exemplary graphic novel, I relied on those who possessed greater knowledge—librarians and scholars who study the format. It was like taking an art appreciation class. This focused study helped me evaluate and appreciate graphic novels and share them with students.
In a 2011 guest post on my Book Whisperer blog (http://blogs.edweek.org/teachers/book_whisperer/2011/08/making_room_for_graphic_novels.html), Terry Thompson, author of Adventures in Graphica, identified numerous ways that graphic novels support readers:
Engaging graphics make the text more accessible and support readers in the act of making meaning. Since readership in other countries is high compared to the United States, the medium may offer cultural significance to a variety of English language learners. Popular themes with current topics invite readers to keep reading. Connections to entertainment trends and the quality of the graphic design appeal to some of our most disinterested readers. The medium’s unconventional nature attracts readers who feel disenfranchised. The innovative style and delivery entice readers who are indifferent to other media or genres. Comprehension strategies such as inferring, summarizing, and synthesis are accentuated through supportive graphics and design features. Creative teams intentionally design panels and pages to guide readers in determining importance. Even though graphic support may require less visualization, readers are immersed in experiences that fill their mental stores with what strong mental images can look like. Fluency is represented visibly through word art, speech bubbles, thought bubbles, and facial expressions. Picture support frees readers to practice a particular instructional focus such as plot, characterization, and theme. English language learners find illustrative support for unusual idioms and colloquial phrases that often confuse them in traditional texts. Embedded graphics can offer symbolic representations of concepts from content areas such as history, government, and science. Readers take on new vocabulary words they might otherwise skip because their meanings are often illustrated alongside their written form.Teachers often ask how to use graphic novels instructionally, wondering if there’s some special trick to it. There isn’t. The simple truth is that you can apply graphic novels to any situation where you’d normally use traditional texts.
I no longer see graphic novels as simply gateway reading material for unmotivated readers. After all, Maus, Art Spiegelman’s harrowing Holocaust tale, won a Pulitzer. Gene Yuen Lang’s American Born Chinese was short-listed for the National Book Award and won the Printz Award. Vertigo’s Sandman garnered a Hugo Award. These literary accolades recognize graphic novels as valuable literature. Since my year with Armann, I have added graphic novels to our class reading requirements, expecting all students to explore at least one example of the format. Even the most proficient readers reported learning something new about reading and storytelling through this exploration.
Every other year, during winter break, I reread The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I enjoy the books and consider revisiting Tolkien’s florid ramblings about forest glades and tree elves a reading marathon. The sheer length of the series demands reading stamina and attention to detail. Besides, my Elvish gets rusty. I reread To Kill a Mockingbird every few years, too. I think I am a different person every time I read Harper Lee’s classic. Connecting with Scout when I was younger, I gravitate to Atticus now because he is the parent and adult I aspire to be.
Adult readers revisit beloved favorites and reread books on occasion, but some teachers and parents forbid children from rereading books or won’t allow children to reread books for class assignments or reading requirements. In fact, rereading books increases comprehension and enjoyment (Millis, Simon, & tenBroek, 1998; Pressley, 2000; Newkirk, 2011). Talking with my student, Jordan, about rereading the Harry Potter series, he admits that he “discovers new things” when he revisits the books and “sees plot clues” that hint at future events he didn’t notice during his first reading.
Students reread books for three main reasons: they want to absorb a treasured story into their skin, they want to cement their knowledge of topics and ideas, or they don’t know what else to read. When working with young readers, it is important to determine why they want to reread a text. If a student rereads the same books over and over because he or she can’t find anything else engaging to read, help him or her find other books that match a similar storyline or genre. If students want to develop their content expertise, provide books that expand their knowledge. If they reread books because they love them, I say let them. We want to develop students’ ownership of reading. When we tell students they can’t reread a book they love, we put our goals in front of theirs.
For several years, my middle school students have identified fantasy and science fiction as their favorite genres, yet fewer adults in our Wild Reader Survey designated these genres as favorites. Not only do my students prefer fantasy to realism, many report that historical fiction, biographies, autobiographies, memoirs, and nonfiction of all types, selected by adult wild readers as among their favorite genres, are their least favorite books to read.
Investigating this disconnect between my students’ preferences and wild readers’ preferences, I asked my students why they claim to dislike books related to history or notable people’s lives. Overwhelmingly, they say that historical fiction and biographies are boring. Lynnsey announced, “I have only abandoned two books in [the past] two years and both were historical fiction.” Other responses reflect students’ emotional and social development, largely anchored in the present and influenced by an egocentric worldview and limited life experiences. Explaining why historical fiction was her least favorite genre, Alicia said, “I don’t really like looking back, I like looking into the future.” Rose dislikes biographies because “I don’t really like learning about someone’s life, I just want to live my own.” Ethan, editing his remarks for school, proclaimed, “I don’t give a _____ about your life.” Several students expressed similar sentiments asking, “Why learn about other people’s lives when still living yours?”
Perhaps as adults we reflect more about the past, recognize our connections to other people, and find personal relevance when reading about the accomplishments and challenges of eminent individuals. As parents, teachers, and librarians, we shouldn’t shy away from our responsibility to expand students’ knowledge of the world and their place in it. Historical fiction and biographies offer readers a lens into the lives of people whose circumstances differ from ours and anchor us in a time line of human experiences that reaches into the past and extends into the future.
What are the implications for our teaching when we consider that teachers and librarians may prefer different genres from the children they serve? How can we bridge this divide between the value we see in historical works and many students’ ambivalence or downright dislike for it? Considering our students’ reading experiences and the books themselves offers insights and opportunities to change students’ negative mind-set. Students identify two main reasons they don’t like historical texts:
Talented nonfiction authors like Kathleen Krull, Deborah Heiligman, Shana Corey, Kadir Nelson, and others have dedicated their writing careers to humanizing eminent historical figures and making them interesting to children. By reading aloud more engaging historical and biographical works, introducing students to noteworthy authors, and encouraging students’ interest in weird, unique, or fascinating information, we increase their interest and build background knowledge for further study.
Open-minded about books and willing to read almost anything, Ashley typically read four or five books a week. By early spring, she had read over a hundred. When I looked at Ashley’s reader’s notebook and examined her genre requirements graph (an accountability tool that helps students track how many books they read from each genre), it was clear that she had not read a single nonfiction book all year. (See appendix A for a blank form for this graph.) Recognizing this deficit as an opportunity for Ashley to stretch herself as a reader, I suggested that we look for a few nonfiction books she might like to read.
“I hate nonfiction, Mrs. Miller. It’s so boring. It’s all about dead presidents and whales,” she said.
Trying not to laugh, I asked, “Why do you say that, Ashley?”
“The only time you need a nonfiction book is when you are researching a report. I don’t like to read those books for fun.”
I was surprised that several students at Ashley’s table expressed similar disinterest in reading nonfiction. My experiences raising daughters led me to believe that most young children thoroughly enjoyed nonfiction. During the “Why?” years of early childhood, preschool and primary-age children love to read nonfiction texts, begging to read science-related books like Gail Gibbon’s The Moon Book and Steve Jenkins’s Actual Size or David Adler’s Picture Book Biography series. When I mentioned these titles to Ashley and her classmates, they remember reading and enjoying similar titles when they were younger. What changed as they grew older?
In many primary and elementary school classrooms, students spend the entire day with one teacher, who provides instruction in every subject. Teachers are more likely to use nonfiction trade books in content-area lessons—reading various texts that connect to science, social studies, and math. Children read, share, and discuss more nonfiction texts as a natural part of learning. As they progress through school, courses become departmentalized as children travel among several teachers who provide instruction in specific content areas.
Pressured to teach extensive content in shorter class periods, content-area teachers depend more on textbooks to deliver information and find fewer opportunities for students to read trade nonfiction. Language arts teachers, who share and provide more of students’ reading material at school, focus on their own content demands and read less nonfiction with students, too. For the most part, we expect students to read nonfiction only for class work when assigning research reports—Ashley’s dead presidents and whales. And increasingly, we encourage students to conduct research online and short-cut reading nonfiction books at all.
Without much exposure, access, or experience reading nonfiction in their classes, it’s not surprising that older students read less of this genre. As with any other type of text, we must look for meaningful ways to incorporate nonfiction material in our classrooms if we want children to read more of it.
The quality and diversity of children’s nonfiction have improved dramatically over the years. Nonfiction books include more text features like color photographs, illustrations, glossaries, and captions that support and engage young readers. Students can find nonfiction books about topics that interest them: athletes, artists, musicians, arts and crafts, cars, fashion, and animals. Moving away from mass-produced library sets churned out by commissioned writers, children’s publishers regularly offer well-written and well-researched nonfiction from outstanding nonfiction authors like Candace Fleming, Sy Montgomery, Nic Bishop, Jim Murphy, and Russell Freedman, who understand their audience and know how to engage children.
With heightened interest in reading nonfiction throughout the school day, teachers need effective, easy-to-implement ways to increase students’ nonfiction reading skills, access, and motivation for reading it. Consider these activities for using nonfiction texts in your classroom:
FIGURE 5.2 Offer students a range of nonfiction texts, and encourage browsing.
As with any other genre they avoid, when my students claim they dislike reading nonfiction, I assume they lack positive reading experiences. In addition to teaching students how to preview, locate, and identify key information in nonfiction texts, teachers should expose students to a variety of engaging nonfiction and promote awareness of the text types available. Through wide nonfiction reading, students build background content knowledge, increase confidence, and discover authors and topics that feed further reading and independent investigations.
It’s useful to examine a complete picture of students’ progress toward internalizing wild reading behaviors. At least once a grading period, Susie and I meet formally with students to examine their reader’s notebooks and discuss their reading engagement and long-term commitment. During these reading habits conferences, we gain deeper understanding of how each reader has grown and the wild reading habits each one still needs to develop. While chatting with students about their reading takes place all day every day in our classroom, I want focused, scheduled opportunities to talk with each child about their progress toward wild reading behaviors. As we put the final piece into place—reading preferences—we can consider how each of the wild reading habits discussed in this book come together when looking at individual readers.
I record notes from students’ independent reading conferences on a reading habits conference chart (see appendix C for a blank version of this form). I use one sheet for each table group and transcribe my observations and students’ comments into individual students’ conference logs stored in Evernote. I take photographs of students’ reading records and save them into Evernote, too. Rereading and copying my notes provides me with an opportunity to reflect and compare notes from current conferences with past observations; you may prefer to keep one form on each student and track progress over time on one sheet of paper.
My reading habits conference chart shows my evolution as a teacher. Every box on the form reveals reflection and decision making about how I see my students, what I want to know about their reading lives, and what we value as a classroom reading community.
I confer with students during our independent reading block. Mindful that talking with me means that students aren’t reading, I interrupt them as little as possible during this time. In the past, I realized that students spent part of their reading time watching me fill out conference notes instead of reading, so I begin independent reading conferences by examining a student’s reading notebook first.
I collect as much information as I can by analyzing a reader’s genre requirements graph, reading lists, to-read lists, and other record-keeping tools. I also reflect on what I know about each child based on daily conversations, class work, and independent reading observations. After jotting down as many observations as I can on my own, I chat with each student—sharing my observations and seeking his or her input. By waiting to interrupt students until I need their input, I communicate that their reading matters more than my paperwork.
After reading Peter Johnston’s Choice Words: How Our Language Affects Children’s Learning (2004), I am more intentional when designing forms, creating anchor charts, and providing written feedback to my students. As Johnston reminds us in his work, the way we talk to children becomes part of the narrative they tell about themselves. Constantly looking for ways to bridge the divide between school reading and life reading, I changed the term “student” or “name” on every form to “reader” or “writer” as the task suited. First and foremost, I want my students to see themselves as readers and writers. Listing each student’s name as a reader serves as a concrete reminder to both the child and me that everyone in our class is a reader—even if we are at different stages in our reading development.
Underneath the children’s names, I record their independent reading levels. According to district guidelines, I assess every student three times a year using the Qualitative Reading Inventory. The data from these assessments provide me with every student’s reading level, but I don’t always look these up and record the hard numbers on my conference forms because they aren’t necessary. My conference records are for my students and me to use. I don’t see the point in transcribing QRI scores onto my conference form when I can look them up later. I usually jot down “at, above, or below grade level” during the conference based on previous assessments and working knowledge of each student’s reading ability.
Looking through students’ reading lists, I try to identify preferences based on the types of books they read. Does the reader enjoy historical fiction or poetry? Is the reader currently following a series? How diverse are the reader’s choices? While some readers select a little of everything, skipping from genre to genre may indicate a lack of clear preferences. Wide reading is the goal, but some children bounce from book to book because they cannot find what they like. Choosing the same genre or storylines over and over may reveal a reading rut—indicating that I need to suggest different books. When many readers in a class are reading the same books, looking at preferences reveals how much influence the reading community has on students’ book choices, too.
I also document each reader’s current book and access my knowledge of children’s literature to determine whether the book aligns with the child’s independent reading level. While I haven’t memorized the reading levels of every book, I do know the levels of the most commonly read books in our class library. I do not obsess on a book-by-book basis about whether my students read books that match their reading levels at all times, but I do consider trends in reading choices. If students continuously select books that are too easy or too hard for them, I consider this when making book recommendations. Given free choice, lots of books, and reading advisory, most readers advance themselves up a ladder of reading difficulty on their own (Lesesne, 2010). As long as students understand and appreciate the books they self-select for independent reading, I don’t intervene unless they fail to make progress.
When assessing reading engagement, I record whether my students fall into their books and fully invest in reading when given the time to read. While it takes a few minutes to settle into class each day, readers who wander around the classroom, fidget, or pretend to read aren’t engaged. Again, I consider trends in students’ reading behaviors over time. If I notice that certain students won’t focus during independent reading time, I counsel them to select different books or reflect on other factors that prevent them from engaging with what they read.
I also consider how many books students have completed. Readers who have finished few books by certain points in the school year may reveal a lack of consistent engagement with what they read. When tallying book totals, though, I take into account the types of books students read. There is a big difference between a reader who has finished all four books in the Eragon series—a staggering two-thousand-page accomplishment—and a reader who has finished four books in the Guardians of Ga’hoole series—shorter, lower-reading level books. These reading events may carry equal challenge and value to each reader. Comparing sheer numbers of books completed does not reveal a complete picture of students’ reading accomplishments. We must consider other factors when assessing individual children and their progress toward personalized reading goals. We should never compare book tallies between children or create competitive conditions among them.
After reflecting on my personal observations of readers’ engagement in class, I ask each child about his or her at-home reading habits. My students admit to me when they aren’t reading outside school. I use these conversations to reinforce the importance of home reading and work with each child to identify opportunities when they can find more time to read. (I discussed this process in chapter 1.)
I expect my students to keep track of their reading lives by recording the books they read and their impressions of them using the various record-keeping tools discussed throughout this book: genre requirements graphs, reading lists, to-read lists, and response entries. We also post reading recommendations and reviews, links to book trailers and author websites, and other reading-related responses to our class Edmodo page and blog. When I assess their independent reading habits, I consider how well students participate in these activities and to what degree they record and reflect on their reading lives. Documenting our reading activities provides my students and me with information for reflection purposes and goal setting. For example, students use their reading lists to consider the books they have read and create book recommendation lists for future students (figure 5.3). I stress to students that my ability to help them progress as readers depends on their willingness to provide snapshots of their reading activities. Although I make note of how well students keep their reading records, I do not grade them down if they have sloppy or incomplete records. I use this information as one more piece in determining their reading habits and ownership for reading.
FIGURE 5.3 Students reflect on their favorite books to share with next year’s class.
I have learned that the most avid readers often keep the worst records of their reading activities. They don’t care about listing every book they read and cannot be bothered with documenting their reading lives for my course requirements. I encourage these readers to use online websites like Goodreads and show them how these tools can help them develop a deeper understanding of themselves as readers over time. On more than one occasion, I have spent an entire reading conference helping someone go back and fill in her reading lists. My students understand that I must hold them accountable for their reading, but the more they read, the less my school-based tools seem to matter. I suppose that is the point.
Recognize that readers with pristine, carefully documented reading lists and genre graphs may be your most dependent readers. They fill out these forms because you expect it. I rely on conferences, personal observations, and reading responses, as well as reader’s notebook records, to tell me what I want to know about my students’ reading behaviors (figure 5.4).
FIGURE 5.4 Students’ reading habits conferences.
Abandoning books from time to time is a natural reading behavior for many wild readers. I expect students to record the books they abandon as well as the titles they finish because I want to observe trends. Ditching a book now and then indicates self-awareness of personal preferences and engagement. However, students who abandon lots of books in a row or stick with books they don’t enjoy or understand require intervention and support.
Examining the books that students abandon helps me determine their commitment to reading in general and identify their consistent success in self-selecting books. Readers who can’t finish the books they start require additional reading advisory, short reading goals, and gentle pressure for completing books.
Readers use various resources when finding out about books they would like to read. Assessing students’ independent reading habits, I consider how they discover books and which methods they employ work best. While it is acceptable for me to provide book recommendations, I should not be students’ only source of book information. I encourage them to use online websites, library and bookstore displays, and other tools to learn more about books they might read. Most of all, I reinforce the importance of building relationships with other readers—in class and elsewhere. I look for opportunities to connect students with each other as much as possible.
Occasionally students rely on peers for book recommendations that don’t suit them. If students take book suggestions from friends but don’t enjoy the books they select from these conversations, I counsel them to take more ownership of their book choices and reflect on why these book recommendations didn’t work. Good friends don’t always share the same tastes in books.
Conferring about their independent reading habits keeps my students and me focused on our long-term goals—internalizing wild reading behaviors and developing the self-reflection skills necessary to maintain lifelong reading. Through these conversations, I gain deeper understanding into my students’ reading lives and they build a greater appreciation for why reading matters to them.
As they sample texts from poetry, nonfiction, and fiction genres, students develop deeper understanding of themselves as readers and the types of texts that speak to them. As they read widely throughout the school year, preferences emerge that students and teachers might not recognize when examining individual reading events. Identifying students’ reading tastes helps students determine the books they gravitate toward and the genres they avoid and guides teachers as they work with students.
I invite my students to read forty books across various genres during the school year (Miller, 2009). Students self-select their own books but must sample a few books in every genre. They then document how many books they read on a genre requirements graph kept in their notebooks (figure 5.5). The y -axis marks how many books a student reads, and the x -axis designates genre. As students finish books, they shade in a box in the genre column. A dotted line in each genre column indicates the class requirement for that genre. While Susie and I want students to try every genre, we include eleven self-selected genre choices in our forty-book invitation. Including open genre choices allows students freedom to read deeply in a favorite genre, dive into a long series, or explore a favorite author’s work.
FIGURE 5.5 Avery’s notebook reveals her strong preference for fantasy books.
A quick scan of students’ genre graphs during student conferences shows their progress toward reading goals, reveals their preferences, and indicates which genres they don’t read as much as others. Avery’s genre graph shows that she obviously prefers fantasy and realistic fiction. She created her own boxes when she filled up the fantasy column of her genre graph. While Avery completed the class requirements for every genre, she read the minimum number of poetry books that Susie expected her fifth graders to read—only three. Avery admits that poetry is her least favorite genre.
During conferences, I often cross-check readers’ genre graphs against their reading lists to determine if they have correctly identified the genres of what they read. If they cannot identify a book’s genre, this may indicate that they didn’t comprehend the book, don’t fully understand genre characteristics, or read a text that was difficult to categorize. Such mismatches provide opportunities for further discussion and assessment.
The genre requirements graph helps students identify their preferences and areas of growth by documenting their reading choices over time. Recognizing their reading preferences helps them develop an accurate portrait of themselves as readers with specific likes and dislikes. They refer to their genre graphs when reflecting on their reading experiences and setting goals for future reading.
Whether students read all of their requirements or appreciate every genre doesn’t matter. The main reason Susie and I expect students to try a little bit of everything is so that they can find what they like to read. Acquiring enough experience to make informed book choices and find their personal reading identities remains our primary intention when asking students to read forty books or more.
Determining readers’ expressed preferences in what they like to read helps teachers connect with students and value their individual reading tastes. These preferences provide a foundation for building reading relationships and offer insight into students’ needs—inviting us to offer books that match their interests, as well as books that can expand their reading experiences. Wild readers develop authentic preferences through wide reading and heightened awareness of the variety of texts available. Encouraging students to read what they want while exposing them to high-interest, engaging, quality texts of all kinds fosters their engagement and provides the diverse experiences they need to find texts that will meet their reading interests and needs both today and tomorrow.
By the end of the school year, our students have practiced all of the lifelong reading habits in our classrooms, they have reflected on their personal reading behaviors, and they have developed the tools and skills they need to become independent readers without our support. Dedicating time to read, self-selecting books, building relationships with other readers, making reading plans, and developing their own reading preferences, our students feel empowered and capable enough to continue reading away from school. Their reading lives belong to them, and they don’t need us. They are wild readers now.