Course Correction Part 1

Led off course by a force of nature that I was unable, or unwilling, to avoid, I found myself treading water, uncertain of my next move. My previous course has been all but lost after what seemed at the time to be a minor course correction. I set out on a small scouting mission to uncover the thoughts of one of my first grade students in regards to the reading challenge she had experienced during March. With an interview protocol mapped out and approved, I was ready to sail. Before raising anchor, I reviewed the protocol one last time, imagining each step. Suddenly, as I imagined one step where the child would be silently drawing a picture, I felt awkward. If I felt awkward, would she feel awkward? Improvising, I decided to make, what seemed at the time, a minor course correction. Unknown to me at the time, this minor alteration in heading would entirely change the nature of this small scouting mission and thus the subject of the overlying mission of this graduate project.

Indeed the change seemed insignificant at the time. Rather than asking the child to draw a picture, I’d ask the entire class to draw a picture and interview the child afterwards. As the class strolled into the classroom one foggy Thursday morning, I could feel the excitement traveling from child to child like electricity. With car shaped die cuts documenting the books they’d read in hand, the children restlessly found their seats. After the final tally made certain that the class had successfully achieved their collective goal and was going to participate in the movie reward the next day, the excitement settled into an anticipatory buzz. While the reading challenge remained fresh in their minds, I asked the class to draw a picture of themselves reading for the challenge. Once again exhilaration filled the room as the children gathered crayons, pencils, markers and paper. Finally settling into their drawings, the excitement faded into subdued murmurs of whispers and scratching of pencils onto fresh pieces of drawing paper.

Anticipating no other course corrections, I ran through the interview protocol once more until I was startled out of my thoughts by a tiny voice. “Can we write about our picture?” asked the voice. Shocked that a first grader was requesting an opportunity to write, I of course granted permission. Thinking they must be extremely motivated by the topic if they were asking to write about their pictures, I began to stroll around the room examining the drawings. I was overjoyed with the data I had stumbled into. As I traveled about the room, it was as though I were traveling in and out of moments in these children’s lives outside of school. Each child’s reading moment was as varied as the students themselves were varied. Some children were smiling and reading books alone or with others (usually family members but sometimes friends). Many children expressed how much they enjoyed reading with friends. One child stated, “It’s not fun reading all alone.” In my notebook, I scratched a note to rethink the silent reading scenario. Perhaps allowing the class more time to read books together during free choice reading time would encourage continued excitement for reading.

I discovered that not only did children read in their bedrooms, living rooms and kitchens but in barns, tents, trampolines and clubhouses! When I inquired about the reality of the drawings, the children all assured me the scenarios they drew truly occurred. Interestingly, two children admitted they had drawn something they wanted to happen rather than actually happened. These two children also struggle the most with reading. Still, all I could think as I continued my tour was how amazing it is that the class was so motivated to read during the challenge and how readily they wished to talk about their experience.

One child’s picture seemed to depict such conflicted emotions; I required his verbal explanation to clarify. Looking at his finished drawing, I saw six stick figures. Three of which were not holding books and had either a frown or a smile while three held books and also had either a frown or smile. Pointing to one stick figure I said, “This one has a frown and a book.” “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m sad and reading a book ‘cause I didn’t want to do it.” Still curious, I pointed to the only figure with a smile and a book and said, “This one has a smile and a book.” He answered, “Because that day was raining and storming and it was a dry place. I didn’t want to go outside.” So honest and profound was his answer that I recorded it in my notebook. Each child was prompted to request that their words be recorded as well after witnessing me write the boy’s words in my notebook. I gladly granted their requests, marveling at the second grouping of data I had stumbled into.

Bemused at the depth of which I had come to understand the perceptions and attitudes my students had about the reading challenge, I struggled to remain on course. Having yet to begin the interview, I explained to the class that I would be conducting an interview about their ideas regarding the reading challenge. To my utter amazement, not only did the majority of the class volunteer to be interviewed, many students asked relentlessly until I agreed to interview them as well. The interviews added to the wealth of data I had already discovered. My small scouting mission had turned into a full blown treasure hunt. With a hull full of treasure seemingly irrelevant to the mission I had originally set out to accomplish, I have now to decide whether to turn back towards my previous course or pursue this new exciting route that has caught me off guard and unprepared.