Once upon a time I believed I possessed agency as an educator/teacher. Maybe I did, or perhaps it was just an illusion. And now I am wondering, with all my personality flaws and creative, meandering ways of planning instruction: should we still be teaching whole-class novels? And is there something “wrong” with me if I don’t think it’s a good idea? I want to foster lifelong learners, and it would be amazing if students read more, packed an ebook wherever they went as easily as their scrolling of Youtube videos. But folks, I think I’m tired of trying to convince cohorts of adolescents that reading is life: it’s like I have some secret key to joy and happiness that many of them just don’t want.
During the freshmen school year, our curriculum includes novels (well, technically one is a novella/allegory, and one is a play) and a dozen or so short stories. We also need to teach argumentative, poetry, and some person decided to put The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe in…March? No, ma’am. That is for October or December.
- To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
- Animal Farm by George Orwell
- “The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet” by William Shakespeare
If you know me, which one do you think should be replaced? Well, of course, it’s TKAM. But that’s not completely why I am giving this some thought this morning.
Also, another aspect is I am passionate about what the creators of #DisruptTexts and Facing History have to share about novels; when I shared some of this with my honors students last year, a few complained bitterly that I didn’t allow them to come to the same conclusions or form their own. My attempt was to share literary critique, and I just opened myself up for harsh criticism. How DARE I share others’ opinions and analysis of To Kill a Mockingbird? Well, okay, this student was the only one, but she may have stirred up a rebellion. (When neurodivergent minds collide, it can be messy and painful.) But I stand by my sharing of others’ literary criticisms: my Black students did amazing work diving deeper into Calpurnia’s role, or lack of agency and voice, for example, and white and students of color found new dimensions to the work. But, in terms of TKAM: I know I can just provide excerpts and the gist, and paired better texts.
There are always, it seems, a handful of students, mostly girls, who read, read for enjoyment frequently, and seek book recommendations from me or the/a librarian. And I know why it’s girls: we’ve socialized them this way. But that may be a post for another time.
I lament the novel units, book pairings, choice novel sets, and a robust classroom library I used to create and share with students. (I still have this, but it’s collecting dust.) And, I’ve been doing some deep reflection on my ‘why’ these days, but moreover, the ‘what.’ Because the what is the why. What I want to teach are a combination of paired texts, multimodal and multi genre approaches, and to use only two longer texts per year, unless we get to replace TKAM with The Sum of Us by Heather McGhee. The rest should be choice, personally curated content and Burning Questions(TM). (Yeah, I am trademarking the snot out of that!)
So, what’s an ELA teacher to do? Well, this is going to take some focus and intention, two qualities that have been depleted due to grief. And it’s not like grief disappears; it shapeshifts, expressing itself in a manner that only it understands and controls. I am not unique or special in this, and this may seem contradictory but that is a relief. I can adhere and comply with the current curriculum, and release some of the rigidity and upholding of colonialism and white supremacy by continuing to offer a variety of texts that are windows, mirrors, and sliding doors (Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop) and also curtains (Dr. Deb Reese).
This is good. I feel better. I’ll move some of the pieces around, and work within the boundaries provided to create meaningful instruction. And if there are some readers who come from this, all the better.