Breaking down the Door. . . .

I love reading about how different books shape people's reading lives.  A couple of my favorite literacy autobiographies are Anna Quindlen's book, How Reading Changed My Life and Sherman Alexie's powerful essay, "Superman and Me,".  Currently, I'm reading Pat Conroy's, My Reading Life. At the end of the year my sixth graders write literacy autobiographies that document their life in books so far.  This year has been different, though, because of a few students who claim they truly hate books and try to be quite vocal about it. 

At Nerdcamp last summer, honing our door-knocking skills.

I can hear these kids now. "Whatever. My literacy autobiography? It's a BLANK PAGE."

I continue to build my classroom library and offer self-selected, independent reading time. I share my own love of the printed word, do book talks/commercials and continue to hone the skill of powerful conferring. We've had a few successes, which is wonderful, and I have some theories about the failures. Considering where I've gone wrong is humbling and necessary. Accepting that I can't reach everyone is humbling, and necessary. 

It is, of course, important to give focus to the successes. There's the girl who still talks about how much she loved The Night Gardener she read last October.  There's the girl who couldn't stick with a book at all until she read The One and Only Ivan and discovered animal books and verse are her go to (Will someone please write more animal books in verse?).  There's the boy who exited special education in December who has continued to improve his reading ability all year. Yay! 

When a student doesn't know what kind of books they like I usually ask what television programs and movies and video games they enjoy. This has prompted the opening up of the literacy autobiography assignment.  I've decided to make it a more inclusive media autobiography about stories my students have experienced as a film watcher, gamer, viewer of YouTubes etc. Hopefully this will lead more students to a mention of a book or two that meant something to them, too. And even if it doesn't, the exercise might finally connect story to their lives in a way they had not previously imagined.

So now I have an assignment that everyone can do, and that should make me feel better. But I can't get Sherman Alexie's essay out of my mind. It's about him being a young Indian reservation boy and reading, literally, to save his life. Now, he visits schools and teaches writing to Native American kids.  Many are eager to learn from him, and others are similar to quite a few of my students this year. He writes, "They carry neither pencil nor pen. They stare out the window. They refuse and resist. 'Books,' I say to them. 'Books,' I say. I throw my weight against their locked doors. The door holds. . .I am trying to save our lives." (Alexie, 1998)  

The school year isn't over yet, but there are still too many doors holding tight. I will continue to throw my weight against them until June, and admit to hoping next year's are a little more saloon swinging, a little less Fort Knox bolted. In the meantime, I open my own door wider still, and throw open every window. Miracles can happen, even in the waning days of May. 

What is your secret to staying positive during the last leg of the school year?  

Alexie, S. (1998, April 19). Superman and Me. Los Angeles Times. Retrieved March 19, 2015, from http://articles.latimes.com/1998/apr/19/books/bk-42979/2

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