This is a perfect prompt for a teacher as a major focus of our work is in developing children’s strengths:
Strengths as in abilities; strength as in self-esteem and self-confidence; strength as in willingness to face setbacks and try, try again; strength as in keeping on going even when the going gets tough.
The picture book discussed in the article by Stacey Shubitz is The Most Magnificent Thing by Ashley Spires. Stacey suggests that the book is a great opener for discussions with children about the importance of a growth mindset.
According to Stacey, an understanding of ‘the power of having a growth mindset’ has been enabled by the work of Carol Dweck, a Stanford psychologist. It is grounded in a belief that
‘Someone can accomplish a lot more through hard work and dedication, rather than by relying on their smarts alone.’
I agree with Stacey that
‘Educators know the benefits of having a growth mindset, rather than having a fixed one. We learn from trial and error. There is value in failure.’
I will not quote Stacey’s article in its entirety, but suggest you pop over and read it for yourself. (If you do, and leave a comment prior to June 27th, you may win yourself a copy of The Most Magnificent Thing, if you live in the USA or Canada.)
Stacey says that “The girl in the story tries over ten times to build something and get it right. Through hard work and some help from her trust sidekick, her pug, she eventually succeeds.” As well as a starting point for discussing the growth mindset, Stacey suggests eight features of the book which are useful for teaching writing. The article also includes a brief, but informative, interview with the author/illustrator Ashley Spires.
In response to Stacey’s question about using The Most Magnificent Thing for discussing a growth mindset, Ashley responds:
‘The character is a perfectly capable girl with a great idea and the skill to make it, but she has to try, try and try again in order to succeed. Most kids (I was one of them) think that if it’s not perfect the first time, then they should move on to something that comes to them more easily. Working hard to succeed is what true success is.”
My flash fiction, told through the jottings of a classroom teacher over time, shows a growth mindset emerging from one that was previously crushed.
Progress
Day one
Timid. Needed help getting things out of bag to put in drawer. Sat towards back of group. Drew knees up under chin. Hunched over. Sucked thumb. Twisted long tangled hair under nose. Rocked.
Day twenty-six
Responded in roll call! Sat with ‘friend’. Legs crossed. Back straight. Smiled – briefly. Someone looked! Screamed, “Stop looking at me!” Dissolved in tears. Again. Retreated under desk. Again.
Day fifty-two
Initiated conversation!! Hair combed!! Nose not running!! Brought toy for show and tell. Responded with one- or two-word answers. Small, dirty, pink unicorn. B laughed. Erupted, but went to desk, not under!
I welcome your feedback. Please share your thoughts about any aspect of the article or my flash fiction piece.
Do I respond to the flash fiction prompt in isolation?
Neither of these alternatives appealed as I have been enjoying the camaraderie and support of the flash fiction tribe as well as the opportunity to experiment in a genre that, while not an immediate writing priority, I may move towards in the future. On the other hand, as my intent with this blog is to share ideas and thoughts primarily about education, I don’t want to become distracted from my focus.
As do many, the idea for this prompt attached itself to me when I wasn’t thinking about it. Ideas tend to pop into my head when I first awaken in the morning, when I am showering, or during any other moment when my thoughts are free to flit and fly without the constraints of achieving a particular outcome.
This one descended when I was out for a drive appreciating the beauty of the pure white clouds, like puffballs, on the bright blue sky of a glorious winter day. It plopped down, ‘Barrrump!’ just as the space-bat-angel-dragon from The Iron Man by Ted Hughes had plopped down on Australia.
As mentioned in a previous post, The Iron Man is one of my favourite books. It is a great story told in beautiful language. On the back of my copy a quote from the Observer declares that it is ‘Reckoned one of the greatest modern fairy tales.’ The rhythm and poetry of the language begs for it to be read aloud. Because it has just five short chapters, ‘a story in five nights’, it is perfect as a first chapter book to share with younger children, and can be read to a class in a week, a chapter a day.
The chapter I wish to share with you in this post is #4 ‘The Space-Being and the Iron Man’.
The previous chapter has seen The Iron Man happily ensconced in a huge scrap-metal yard. It could have finished there with a happily ever after ending. But no. It was only chapter 3. There were two more chapters to come! What excitement was in store?
The chapter begins
‘One day there came strange news. Everybody was talking about it. Round eyes, busy mouths, frightened voices – everybody was talking about it.
One of the stars of the night had begun to change.’
We are immediately reeled back into the story – What is going to happen? What will the Iron Man do? – and propelled along by the giant star that grew ‘not just bigger. But bigger and Bigger and BIGger’ as it came
‘rushing towards the world.
Faster than a bullet.
Faster than any rocket.
Faster even than a meteorite.’
Thankfully it stopped before it hit Earth. But wait – it’s not over yet, for ‘a dreadful silhouette, (came) flying out of the centre of that giant star, straight towards the earth.’
After several days it (‘a terrific dragon’) landed, with its body ‘covering the whole of Australia’ and it ‘wanted to be fed. And what it wanted to eat was – living things.’
‘The people of the world decided they would not feed this space-bat-angel-dragon … they would fight it.” But all the forces of the world were no match for the dragon.
As you may have guessed, this is where the heroic Iron Man devises his plan ‘to go out, as the champion of the earth, against this monster from space’. The dragon was very surprised to be challenged to a test of strength.
The Iron Man, you may remember, is taller than a house, but the space-bat-angel-dragon is bigger than Australia. The dragon thought that, when the Iron Man had finished, he’d ‘just lick him up.’ He didn’t figure on the ingenuity of the Iron Man. The Iron Man’s challenge was for the dragon to ‘go and lie on the sun till (he was) red-hot’. (The Iron Man was small enough to be made red-hot on Earth.)
After the second journey to the sun the dragon again ‘landed on Australia. This time the bump was so heavy, it knocked down certain sky-scrapers, sent tidal waves sweeping into harbours, and threw herds of cows on their backs. All over the world, anybody who happened to be riding a bicycle at that moment instantly fell off. The space-bat-angel-dragon landed so ponderously because he was exhausted.’
Have you ever felt that exhausted you just wanted to flop down and never move again? An article in my local newspaper1 recently declared that ‘We belong to the Spent Generation – the most overcommitted, overscheduled, overconnected, and therefore overtired, in modern times.’ The journalist Frances Whiting listed a number of professions including ‘doctors, scientists, social commentators (who) the statistics tell us (are) working longer, sleeping less, not resting enough and taking on too much.’
Teachers weren’t on this list, but they could have been at the top. Anyone who lives with, or has a friend who is, a teacher knows the long hours they work. Because it is a caring profession it is impossible to leave work at the gate and pick it up the following day. Content-driven curricula and unrealistic expectations imposed upon both teachers and learners place extra stress upon all stakeholders. Long before a school terms end teachers are tired, stressed and in need of time to recuperate and recharge in preparation for the next one.
At the moment most teachers in Australia are conducting assessments, evaluating their own work and student learning, preparing report cards and conducting teacher-parent interviews. This is in addition to their ongoing tasks of preparing and teaching lessons and is mostly expected to be completed in out-of-scheduled work hours.
When I was teaching I worked between 50 and 70 hours most weeks. I used to say that even with our ‘enviable’ holidays we were still owed time. In my current out-of-the-classroom role as writer of curriculum materials, I now feel the difference as I don’t have to think about it away from my desk.
I still get tired, but not the same heavy exhaustion that comes from giving all; physically, mentally and emotionally, to a class of 25 active learners while trying to stay afloat amidst ever increasing expectations.
So my flash this week recognises the teachers who, buried under a pile of paperwork and lost in a maze of data collecting spreadsheets, still struggle to be everything to everyone, endeavouring to make every child feel special and valued, while often feeling that their own work fails to achieve any real recognition. Enjoy the break, teachers. You deserve it!
A Unicorn at School
‘Miss. Marnie has a toy in her bag.’
‘Uh-uh,’ I responded.
‘You’re not allowed to have toys at school,’ he insisted.
‘Uh-uh.’
Trust him! Always dobbing.
‘Miss,’ he persisted, tugging my sleeve.
‘What is it?’ I sighed, dragging myself out of the confusion of marks and percentages that now seemed more important to telling a child’s story than their own words and actions.
I looked at the little fellow pleading for my attention. They were all so needy; so demanding; but time . . .
‘It’s a unicorn, Miss.’
‘Unicorn! Let’s see!’ I was back. A child in need!
I welcome your feedback. Please share your thoughts about any aspect of the article or my flash fiction piece.
I have many discussions with parents about whether they should read fairy tales and stories with magical elements to their children. These parents raise a number of issues, for example:
Horrible things happen – Hansel and Gretel are abandoned in the woods (by their parents) and are captured by a wicked witch – the wolf tries to trick the seven little kids left at home alone
Parents are often dead or absent – Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Rapunzel, Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk
Stepmothers are mean – Cinderella, Snow White
Sexism, especially the need for a female to be rescued by a handsome prince – Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty
They contain “magical” creatures such as fairy godmothers (Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty), witches (Snow White), giants (Jack and the Beanstalk), trolls (Three Billy Goats)
Myth of happily ever after
Stereotypes – beauty is good, ugly is bad
The presence of magic – good magic of fairies and bad magic of witches – Sleeping Beauty; magical bean seeds and geese (Jack and the Beanstalk)
“many of the older tales incorporated rather dark themes devoted to death, suffering and children being murdered. But then there is also a second incorporation that has to do with later Disney movies of these fairy tales and them being too happy and can result in parents thinking their child will be deluded with ideas that the world will just work for them and things will be good.”
While I acknowledge these elements occur, I am not prepared to abandon fairy tales because of it.
While I may consider a diet of only fairy tales problematic, I think something would be lacking if a child was refused access to the richness of their stories and tradition. Like most fiction, they offer an avenue for escapism. In addition, the stories can be used as a tool for initiating non-threatening discussions of the issues listed above.
“Stories are just one way that we are able to sharpen our own character in order to prepare for the narratives we will one day find ourselves in as the story of our life unfolds before, around and within us.”
Following a comment by Richard Dawkins, a recent discussion on The Guardian considered whether fairy tales are harmful to children. So far the consensus seems to be that they are not.
Albert Einstein was a supporter of fairy tales and is often attributed with the following quote, discussed in more detail by Maria Popova on brain pickings.
“In an increasingly complicated world, we more than ever want our children to be able to think with clarity, rather than lead lives hampered or derailed by all those false assumptions and unexamined prejudices that seem as easily inherited as freckles or brown eyes.
How can we go about teaching them to peel back the surface of their first thoughts on a matter, or even their strongest beliefs, and look at them with more care? . . . fiction has always fostered the moral, intellectual and emotional development of the growing child. (‘Should she have done that?’ ‘Would I?’ ‘What else could have been done?’ ‘How would it feel?’) Good stories highlight the sheer complexity of things. They furnish a far greater understanding of the world and everyone in it. For most of us, fiction has always been the earliest – and many would argue the best – instrument we have had for ethical enquiry.”
Think of the ethical inquiry that could occur when discussing Goldilocks and her break and enter, Jack’s theft of the giant’s belongings and the constant portrayal of the wolf as the bad guy; just to get you started.
I am not a reader of adult fantasy novels. I have never read Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit or Watership Down. I just couldn’t buy into it. I’m sorry I have to admit it – it is true.
However, I don’t mind a bit of fantasy in children’s books and, in fact, really enjoy it. I didn’t mind the rats’ use of language in Robert C. O’Brien’s The Rats of Nimh while I couldn’t handle the talking rabbits in Watership Down by Richard Adams. I cannot explain why my response is different but I’m sure it has something to do with the ability to suspend disbelief. I am obviously more able to do that when encountering fantasy in children’s stories than in adult fiction.
As both parent and teacher (and now grandparent) I love sharing stories with children. In addition to all the good things I know it is doing for them, it is doing lots of good things for me as well. Reading children’s stories written by masterful authors is one of life’s greatest pleasures and I love having excuses for doing so.
This week the flash challenge issued by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch was to
I am taking the opportunity of sharing with you some of my favourite fantastic creatures and magical realms from children’s stories. Each of these stories is wonderful to read aloud and share with children.
Charli mentioned rainbows, unicorns and the phoenix.
I thought of The Iron Man by Ted Hughes (a story in five nights, suitable for children from age 5 – 104)
“Taller than a house, the Iron Man stood at the top of the cliff, on the very brink, in the darkness.
The wind sang through his iron fingers. His great iron head, shaped like a dustbin but as big as a bedroom, slowly turned to the right, slowly turned to the left. His iron ears turned, this way, that way. He was hearing the sea. His eyes, like headlamps, glowed white, then red, then infra-red, searching the sea. Never before had the Iron Man seen the sea.
He swayed in the strong wind that pressed against his back. He swayed forward, on the brink of the high cliff.
And his right foot, his enormous iron right foot, lifted – up, out, into space, and the Iron Man stepped forward, off the cliff, into nothingness.”
and The BFG by Roald Dahl. (a longer tale for school age, and older, children)
“It wasn’t a human. It couldn’t be. It was four times as tall as the tallest human. It was so tall its head was higher than the upstairs windows of the houses. Sophie opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her throat, like her whole body, was frozen with fright.
This was the witching hour all right.
The tall black figure was coming her way. It was keeping very close to the houses across the street, hiding in the shadowy places where there was no moonlight.
On and on it came, nearer and nearer. But it was moving in spurts. It would stop, then it would move on, then it would stop again.
But what on earth was it doing?”
I thought of Joan Aiken’s wonderful collections of fairy tales like A Necklace of Raindrops (for children in early years of schooling)
“And when she had nine raindrops Laura found that she could make the rain stop, by clapping her hands. So there were many, many sunny days by the sea. But Laura did not always clap her hands when it rained, for she loved to see the silver drops come sliding out of the sky.
Now it was time for Laura to go to school. You can guess how the other children loved her! They would call, “Laura, Laura, make it stop raining, please, so that we can go out to play.”
And Laura always made the rain stop for them.
But there was a girl called Meg who said to herself, “It isn’t fair. Why should Laura have that lovely necklace and be able to stop the rain? Why shouldn’t I have it?”
and The Kingdom Under the Sea (for children approx. 8 -12), each beautifully illustrated by Jan Pienkowski adding another element of wonder to the tales.
Charli suggested that we “think of how (we) can use the fantastical to enrich realities” and I thought of the mouse who invented The Gruffalo in Julia Donaldson’s story and showed how imagination could be used to solve problems that arise. (The Gruffalo is suitable for children in pre-school and early years of schooling)
While the above excerpts are short, like flash fiction, each demonstrates the skill of the author in choice of words and sentence structure. In his book On WritingStephen King refers to these as forming the top level of the tool box. But these excerpts show a depth greater than that also. They create a connection, forming a relationship with and a need in the reader to know what happens.
It is the ability of the author that sweeps us away, as if on a magic carpet, to other places and other lives. It is the ability of the reader to suspend disbelief that allows the journey to occur.
I thought about how we, as either child or adult, use fantasy to escape realities that we may not wish, or not feel strong enough, to face. This brought me back to Charli’s unicorn.
And now I offer my own bit of flash, which is not suitable for reading to children of any age.
In my previous post Life: a choose your own adventure – how do you chooseI discussed the difficulties we may experience in prioritising options and choices, and the need to be self-regulatory in performing tasks and achieving goals.
The discussion reminded me of the marshmallow test I had heard about from Daniel Goleman in his book “Emotional Intelligence”.
The marshmallow test was a study conducted in the 1960s by Walter Mischel .
As described by Daniel Goleman, “In this experiment four-year-olds from the Stanford University pre-school were brought to a room and sat in a chair in front of a juicy marshmallow on a table. The experimenter then told them they could eat it now, or get two if they were willing to wait until the experimenter came back from running an errand.“
You can watch a video demonstrating the experiment here:
Some children could not wait and ate the marshmallow as soon as the examiner left the room. Others toyed with the idea of waiting, but were unable to resist the temptation. Others were able to wait and scored two marshmallows when the examiner returned.
While this study revealed certain aspects of childhood behaviour, follow-up studies into the behaviour of these children when young adults and graduating from high school revealed that “Those who waited, compared to those who grabbed, were more popular with their peers, had less trouble delaying gratification, and scored far higher on achievement tests.”
A further study, conducted 40 years later, as reported by Sylvia R. Karasu writing for Psychology Today, found that “the ability to resist temptation is fairly stable over the lifecycle and predictive of behaviors 40 years later!”
Goleman talks about the important role of parents in supporting children to develop the ability to control impulses and choose behaviour. As children learn to internalise and choose the ‘no’ imposed by others, they learn to regulate impulsive behaviour. He calls it the ‘free won’t’, “the capacity to squelch an impulse.”
Karasu supports this by saying that “The researchers also suggested that a family environment where “self-imposed delay” is “encouraged and modeled” may give children “a distinct advantage” to deal with frustrations throughout life.”
Goleman says that the ability to curb dangerous impulses is an aspect of emotional intelligence, “which refers to how you handle your own feelings, how well you empathize and get along with other people. (He says it) is just a key human skill.”
He continues by saying that “it also turns out that kids who are better able to manage their emotions . . . can pay attention better, take in information better, and remember better. In other words, it helps you learn better.”
It sounds like emotional intelligence is something that all schools should be developing, don’t you think?
Goleman says that the “ability to delay gratification hinges on a cognitive skill: concentrating on the good feelings that will come from achieving a goal, and so ignoring tempting distractions. That ability also lets us keep going toward that goal despite frustrations, setbacks, and obstacles.”
Without that ability it may be difficult for any of us to achieve our goals. Saving for the future, studying towards a qualification, working harder now to have time off later; none of these would be possible without the ability to delay gratification.
But can emotional intelligence be taught? And should it be taught in schools?
It seems to me that if emotional intelligence is able to predict “success” in later life, then it is important to develop it as early as possible. This can begin in the home with parents helping their children learn to delay gratification, build resilience and develop empathy.
I believe it is important to make a place for programs that develop emotional intelligence in schools. Children need opportunities to internalise emotionally intelligent responses to a variety of situations. A very structured, force-fed, content driven, test based approach where almost every action is directed and monitored leaves little room for students to develop skills of self-regulation.
Discussions of whether emotional intelligence can, or importantly should, be taught in schools can be read here and here. The theory is that children can no more “pick up” emotional intelligence than they can “pick up” maths or English. To leave it to chance seems to be denying our children the opportunity to develop skills that will help them lead happy and successful lives.
What do you think? Would you have one marshmallow now, or double it later?
Please share your ideas.
You can read more of Daniel Goleman’s work at Edutopia, and hear his talks and conversations at More Than Sound.
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Well, you might say, that all depends on whether the surprise is a good surprise or a bad surprise.
A surprise is simply something unexpected, and everyday life is full of surprises; some so little they go almost unnoticed, others of larger more life-changing proportions. Some are pleasant and others far less so.
What got me thinking about surprises this week is the flash fiction prompt posted by Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch Communications.
I have been thinking of all sorts of surprises I could write about but decided to maintain my focus on education.
There are many opportunities for surprises to occur throughout one’s education, which is not limited to (but probably, dare I say, by) one’s schooling experiences.
For example:
Discovering you can read a book, all by yourself
Discovering an author whose work you just can’t put down
Finding a solution to a problem that had seemed insurmountable
Achieving a favourable result in a dreaded test
Being offered a place in the course you were wanting
Having work accepted, valued and receiving payment
There are many situations in which the surprise could go either way.
For example:
Being called to the principal’s office
Having a parent-teacher interview about your own child, or student
Receiving exam results or course placement offer
Meeting a new teacher
Working in a group to solve a problem
Being a lover of stories, especially picture books, it is rare that a situation doesn’t trigger a thought connection to a story or book I have read.
Thinking about the good surprises and bad surprises that could happen in some of these situations made me think of a book I had read to my own, and classes of, children years ago. Maybe you will remember it also.
The book is What Good Luck! What Bad Luck! by Remy Charlip and relates a sequence of events alternating between good and bad.
It appears, from what I can find out, that it was first published by Ashton Scholastic in 1964 and sold for 60 cents.
Today Amazon has used copies on offer for $34.99 or $122 and a collectible as high as $157.70.
What good luck, I used to have a copy.
What bad luck, it is no longer in my possession.
I was at the stage of mentally composing my story with my fingers itching to get to the keyboard to translate it into print when I glanced at the morning paper1 and came across this headline:
As a teacher who is passionate about education but also critical of top-down force-fed schooling institutions, headlines/comments like these have me vacillating between defiant self- (and professional-) protection and agreement with the criticisms.
Teachers come in for a lot of criticism, some of it deservedly so, other of it not so much.
One quote I love is “Teaching is the one profession that creates all other professions”.
On the flip-side of this is “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”
While I take offense at this one, sometimes I am inclined to think it alludes to an important quality in a teacher. Frequently those who are expert at something, find it difficult to break a process into a series of steps that would enable an explanation to be easily understood by others. If one has struggled to master a task, the process can seem clearer and easier to explain. However there does come a point below which knowledge and experience must not fall or effective teaching cannot exist.
In her article Bad teachers = bad results, Kylie Lang says that
“C-grade teachers will not produce A-grade results”.
She says,
“Too many mediocre minds are becoming teachers. Universities usher them in, these academic underperformers who fail to qualify for courses with higher entry requirements.”
She says that
“A federal education department report shows a rise in the number of school leavers with poor grades being offered places on teaching courses. This year, 55 percent of Year 12 students that were allowed to undertake teaching degrees had an Australian Tertiary Admission Rank below the average . . .”
It is a bit scary, isn’t it?
She also says that,
“If we are a nation that values education . . . we must attract brighter, more creative thinkers to classrooms.”
I couldn’t agree more. However I wonder where they will get those creative thinkers if higher order thinking skills, creativity and innovation are sacrificed in the relentless quest for scores on academic tests which require students to spit back information forced upon them in hours of didactic instruction and rote learning.
It’s no surprise that anyone who maintains the ability to think outside the square would rather not return to it!
And so to my flash piece for this week, which comes with a warning – there’s no rhyme because there is no reason:
What luck!
No books, no talk were in the home.
What luck!
He was happy to play on his own.
School began when he was five.
What luck!
Learning from flash cards, how hard he tried.
“My boy can’t do it!” his Mum once wailed.
What luck!
With ‘forged’ test scores no child would fail.
Leaving school, the options were few.
What luck!
Teaching was the one he could do.
Uni years flashed by so fast.
What luck!
Number requirements meant he passed.
Then into the classroom he unprepared went.
No future joy for any student.
What bad luck!
I always enjoy reading your comments. I invite you to share your thoughts.
1 Courier-Mail, Sunday May 25 2014
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While I did eventually produce a piece in response to the prompt and received some very generous comments (thank you readers), the difficulty I was experiencing made me think of all the school children who have ever been set a topic and told to write about it, sometimes without an opportunity for discussion, reflection or planning, and often without any consideration of interests or experiences. I was feeling particularly sympathetic that week as children in Australia were, at that time, sitting the NAPLAN (National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy) writing test.
While I have not yet read the entire paper, the abstract itself is quite interesting.
Behizadeh begins by saying
“The dangers of a single story in current U.S. large-scale writing assessment are that assessment practice does not align with theory and this practice has negative effects on instruction and students.”
As shown in my previous article, large-scale writing assessment also occurs in Australian schools and, I believe, in the Education systems of many other countries as well.
It is interesting to see that the practice, while widely implemented, is not, according to Behizadeh, supported by theory. One would have to wonder why. Oftentimes teachers lament that those making decisions about educational practices are bureaucrats with little or no training or experience in education. (Pardon me, we all went to school didn’t we?)
In our data driven world where information can be collected on spreadsheets, compared in a wide variety of graphs and tables, and stored indefinitely, emphasis moves from qualitative to quantitative assessment. I believe that this trend towards valuing only that which can be scored numerically is having a negative effect upon children’s learning and their enjoyment of learning. It discourages creativity and imagination and forces everyone to squeeze into the same sized and shaped hole. Some manage to fit more easily and more comfortably than others, but I question the cost to all.
Behizadeh goes on to propose
“A new vision of large-scale sociocultural writing portfolios in K–12 education . . . that builds on the practices of past large-scale portfolio assessment … (and) also encourages students to write in multiple languages/dialects and modes for multiple purposes.”
I love the idea of portfolios for assessment, rather than a one-off test. I would think most professional writers have a portfolio consisting of work at various stages: some as ideas jotted on slips of paper, some in planning stages, others in draft form, others completed and waiting for the next step, and others in publication.
A portfolio allows a writer to work on different pieces at different times and at different rates. Rarely is it imperative for a piece to be completed in an hour or two. (Unless you’re a journalist I suppose.) You can dip in, leave to rest, go back, redraft, edit, start again, and not be required to churn something out for a reader, let alone assessment, more or less on the spot.
As a teacher, too, I loved my children having portfolios of work. They would write a draft of many different pieces and store them in a folder. They would edit and “publish” those only they wished (which was usually most!).
I would conference with them about their pieces, firstly about the content be it story, poem, letter or information discussing what they wanted to say, who they were writing it for and how they wanted the reader to think and feel. When they were happy with their message we might talk about choices of words and language structures. Finally, when they were ready to publish, we would look at the surface features of spelling and punctuation. No teacher’s red pen was ever used to mark their work. The children were engaged with the entire process of writing (we called it “process writing” back then) and had ownership of their work.
We published by sharing our work with classmates, other classes, teachers and parents. We displayed writing on classroom walls, in the hallways and in the school foyer. Each term I would print booklets of the children’s writing for them to take home and share with their families. Many took pride of place on the family bookshelves.
This type of portfolio clearly demonstrates a student’s ability to write in a variety of genres, to develop an idea, to express oneself grammatically, to use editing skills and to proofread for spelling and punctuation correctness. What better than that could be used to assess a child’s writing development?
The two main points I am making in this article are:
a one-off writing assessment task does not give students an opportunity to show their best work and puts pressure on them to perform
a portfolio of work collected over time provides a clear picture of student ability, development, and next steps for learning
While I began this article by expressing how I was feeling about responding to the flash fiction prompt, I am in no way suggesting that the flash fiction challenge has any similarity to the national writing assessment tasks that are set for children, for it does not.
With flash fiction:
I choose whether to participate or not
I choose the genre in which I will respond
I hone my writing skills, paring away unimportant words to get to the heart of the story
I share my writing with willing readers
I receive lots of encouraging and supportive feedback on my writing
I have a sense of belonging to a community of other writers.
I have spent a lot of time thinking about this one, making various starts and writing some drafts but the twist in this one is, I haven’t been able to come up with something I am happy with sharing. But that’s okay because, unlike the children sitting the one-off national assessment, I can choose not to contribute this time, a low-ranking score won’t be collected and placed against my name for all time, and I can get to participate next time, if I choose.
Although I am not contributing a piece this time, I have still learned a lot by the process of trying different things, even if I haven’t found a way to make them work, yet
… and it provided me an opportunity of sharing some of my thoughts about writing with children. There will be more to come!
I’d love to know what you think!
PS Make sure you pop over to the Carrot Ranch to see how others have responded to the prompt.
Unknown source. Apologies. Happy to attribute if informed.
I often say that children are born scientists. From the moment they are born they are actively finding ways of figuring out how the world works, and how they can get it to work for them.1
Some people say children are sponges. But I say they are more than that. They are creators. They don’t just copy what they see. They don’t just repeat what they hear. They find new ways of working things out, new ways of expressing ideas, and new ways of thinking about things. Parents often remark, when children exhibit new behaviours or cute new phrases or ways of expressing themselves, “Where did they get that from? Where did they learn that?” Often the source cannot be identified, for the source is within the child.
An important way to keep children creating their own understandings and ideas is to not only allow them to ask questions, but to actively encourage them to do so, and to help them seek answers to their questions. Adults can be quick to quiet children’s questions for a number of reasons including not knowing the answer, being too busy at the time to investigate an answer, or even considering the question unimportant or “dumb”.
Unknown source. Apologies. Happy to attribute if informed.
Remember, many things that adults may take for granted or that they may no longer question but simply accept (possibly as a result of not receiving appropriate answers or responses to their childhood questions) are new and unfamiliar to the child.
Sometimes it is easier to accept than to question for questioning means that something is unknown; and not knowing can lead to feelings of insecurity, doubt and instability. But it is these self-same feelings which drive innovation and progress. If everything was known, there would be no room for improvement, no need for anything new, no need for greater understanding.
This inspiring TED talk by Beau Lotto and Amy O’Toole, Science is for everyone, kids includedemphasizes the need for children to be given the opportunity of asking, and exploring answers to, questions.
Beau explains that what we see is based upon our experience, upon our expectations. But he asks,
“if perception is grounded in our history, . . . (and) we’re only ever responding according to what we’ve done before . . . how can we ever see differently?”
He goes on to explain that seeing things differently begins with a question and that questions lead to uncertainty. He says that
and explains that the answer to uncertainty is play. He says that play “is a way of being” and is important for five reasons:
Uncertainty is celebrated in play and makes play fun
Play is adaptable to change
Play is open to possibility
Play is cooperative
Play is intrinsically motivated
“Play is its own reward.”
Beau says that science, also, is a way of being; and that science experiments are like play.
He describes working with a group of 8-10 year old children, encouraging them to ask questions and involving them in an investigation of a question they posed.
Amy O’Toole, one of the children involved, joins Beau and describes the experiment which investigated the ability of bees to “adapt themselves to new situations using previously learned rules and conditions.”
The really exciting thing about the project, Amy says, was that they “had no idea whether it would work. It was completely new, and no one had done it before, including adults.”
The process of taking the findings of the project to publication, as Beau explains, was rather complex with a variety of complications, taking two years to achieve. The experiment itself took only four months! Publication of the paper made Amy and her friends the youngest ever published scientists.
Editor’s Choice in Science (a top science magazine)
the only paper forever freely accessible on Biology Letters and
the second-most downloaded paper from Biology Letters in 2011
Amy wraps up the talk by stating that
“This project was really exciting for me, because it brought the process of discovery to life, and it showed me that anyone, and I mean anyone, has the potential to discover something new, and that a small question can lead into a big discovery.”
She finishes by saying that
“science isn’t just a boring subject … anyone can discover something new.”
We might not all make those big scientific discoveries, but it is the questions we ask each day which lead to our own discoveries, no matter how small; it is our curiosity which keeps us learning.
What have you learnt today?
1 This is just my opinion formed from observations, discussions and reading. I am not supporting it with research references.
For the past couple of months, Charli Mills has been posting a flash fiction challenge on her site Carrot Ranch Communications.
I have been really enjoying the challenges as I hadn’t tried writing fiction in such brevity before. I do like having a go at various genres but the main focus of my writing is education and literacy learning. I am currently developing resources for children, parents and teachers which I plan to make available on a future website.
Having many years’ experience in writing these types of resources, I sometimes think I would be willing to develop any resource requested by an early childhood teacher. Participating in the Flash Fiction Challenge was a way of proving to myself that I could attempt any topic and genre.
I am not a fan of horror (real or imagined) and I haven’t done enough travel to have experienced a horror story (thankfully) but I was still keen to have a go and keep up my good participation record.
The difficulty I was experiencing with this writing task made me think about writing tasks that are set for children in school. How many children have ever returned from holiday and been set the task of writing about “My Holiday”?
Maybe that’s not so bad, they have all experienced it. But what about other topics that are of little interest to them.
This week across Australia students in years 3, 5, 7 and 9 are sitting NAPLAN (National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy) tests.
Students in those year levels are set the samewriting task . They are given “a ‘prompt’ – an idea or topic – and asked to write a response of a particular text type”
Information on the acara (Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority) webstite explains that
“In 2014, as in previous years, the Writing task will be a single common task for all students. The 2014 Writing test will require students to respond to either a persuasive or narrative Writing prompt. However, the genre of the prompt will not be disclosed prior to the test period.”
It goes on further to say that
“The provision of a rich and broad curriculum is the best preparation for NAPLAN, including the Writing task.”
I think I have a fairly rich and broad educational background with a reasonable level of literacy skills; but I am not convinced that, on any given day, in a restricted amount of time, under the watchful eyes of supervisors I would produce my best work in response to a prompt about which I may have little experience, knowledge or interest.
What about you? How do you think you would go?
Below is my response to Charli’s horror travel prompt. I don’t think it is my best work.
Travel woes
She willed the doors shut forever, knowing that open they must, or she’d be left behind.
She mentally checked and re-checked required items. Surely there was something she had missed?
Dread gripped her ankles, threatening her balance.
Fear squeezed her chest, constricting her breath.
Heights and enclosed spaces were not her thing.
She straightened, attempting to hide the tremble from fellow travellers.
“Don’t be crowded. I need space, air to breathe.”
The doors opened. She was swept inside.
They closed, encasing her. No escape now.
Would she make the distance, mind intact?
Ding!
Floor 35. Here already.
The NAPLAN writing tasks are marked against a rubric of 10 criteria. I wonder what the criteria for flash fiction would be and how I would score.
Hello, my name is Tiffany and I am a reader. Always have been and always will be. Reading is more than a hobby or a pleasurable activity. It is a true need in my life.
It all started early. I don’t remember learning to read. I clearly remember the day the words began to make sense to me. I was about five years old and sitting at the kitchen table with the Sunday comics. I got up to ask my mom to help me with a word and I never looked back.
From that day forward, I was unstoppable. Aided in large part by extremely supportive parents and grandparents, as well as key teachers and librarians, I became a voracious reader.
Books were my constant companion throughout my childhood. I received countless books as gifts. I haunted my public and school libraries. I would lose myself in stories, making new…