I found this article from Covenant Classical Academy outside Houston to be quite relevant, although this description puts the religious/Christian aspect of their classrooms first, and I firmly assert that a classical education, which has its roots in Greek paganism, is not necessarily Christian in philosophy.
I’ll never forget the bumper sticker I saw as a young woman which read “if you think education is expensive, try ignorance.”
These days of February, when it can be hard to hold your focus and stay steady with moving forward, I sometimes reflect on the institution of school.
As I walk through the halls these days, which can be a little cold and gray and from which, at this time of year, we seem unlikely ever to emerge, I think of all the educators of the past, and of all the countries in the world, who stood at the front of lines and said “eyes on me, listen … ” and then led students into a classroom of some description.
Today, at the small group table, one of my fourth graders told me that he didn’t see why we should have to go to school.
“Well,” I said, “You know, if there weren’t school, the kids would all roam the streets, most likely, and then the big kids would attack the little — kids would be in danger from getting lost or hurt … did you know that back in the caveman days, they noticed that kids were not safe by themselves wandering the woods and the caves? So they appointed some of the tribe to watch out for the children and make sure they were okay, and amused, and fed … much later, in civilized times, they realized that these people could also be asked to teach kids to read and write, count and cipher, which led eventually to Horace Mann and Arne Duncan … but originally, I’m convinced, the teacher’s job was to save the kids from their own bad ideas and the environment.” This is education in its simplest form. Everything else, up to and including the classical method, is just an accretion of additional positive characteristics above and beyond what school was originally designed for: to keep kids safe and happy and ready for the future.
I don’t know what came over me. Everyone knows that cavemen did not have schools, that the classical tradition goes back to Plato’s Academy, that a school is judged by its academic success. But still. I think Charlotte Mason, at least, would understand what I meant. School is supposed to be to serve the child’s interests. This concept is so compelling that where ever people are found, you find schools. Apparently, the classroom is on of the most pervasive, and hopefully positive, of human structures.
Lately I have been thinking about genre as it pertains to preparing students in a publicly-funded charter school for the state test. Classical schools may be at a disadvantage when it comes to preparing for the reading STAAR because in the classical canon, we focus on only a few of the genres: poetry, historical fiction, history, fantasy. The big gaps are nonfiction text, contemporary realistic fiction, and modern fantasies of the type exemplified by Anne McCaffrey.
The genres we are covering we are covering well. The problem comes in when students who have not seeing a type of text, or a STAAR objective-based question confront them on the STAAR. How can we expand the genres we teach and how they are taught in classical education? And why would we want to anyway, we already have them reading all the best books as it is?
I suggest a three-pronged attack of this problem. First, we should teach our classical textsusing at least some of the time, that is, we should teach topics such as character, plot, setting, conflict, and writers purpose. Next we should teach nonfiction reading objectives some of the time when we teach history and science. Important nonfiction text objectives include finding the facts in the text, inferring the author’s intended conclusions, and using graphic sources pictures. Finally I suggest we use reading logs and have students read self-selected books at home. This will give the students experience, by choice, in reading modern fantasy and contemporary realistic novels.
This may be surprising, however I have found a lot of thrills in teaching genre in classical education using these techniques. The students have responded with excitement to discussions of character and plot. They have enjoyed finding the facts and the author’s intended purpose, and despite their complaints, they have enjoyed their reading logs in their independent books, especially the books about dragons, it seems.
There seems to be surging interest in classical education these days, as noted by various news stories including this one from the Indianapolis Star. I’m going to go out on a limb here and write about what classical education teachers tend to be like. It’s true, there is a wide variety of approaches to classical education. But this list is supposed to generalize.
- They are interested in what has long been called the Western Canon (a group of classical fictional and poetry texts) and Western Civilization (a history of a type of democratic and/or republican government that emphasizes opportunities for citizens to self-rule.)
- They believe in the education of the whole child, body, soul, and spirit.
- They tend to use more traditional instruction methods such whole class discussions, writing book reports, doing science fair projects, memorizing word roots, phonics, memorizing poems and math facts, etc.
- They tend to see instruction in Latin as a necessary component of a classical education.
- They tend to emphasize music performance including choir, orchestra, and home instruction in playing instruments.
- They tend to expect students and parents to follow the rules of instruction and homework regimens and to feel that failure to follow these rules and expectations should necessarily lead to failing grades.
- They tend to demand an orderly classroom.
- They often subscribe to conservative religious and/or political beliefs but this is by no means universal. Classical education appeals to many liberal-minded folks as well, and teachers as a group tend to be more liberal than the general populace.
- They tend to take the long view of education, seeing it as a 12 or 13 year, or better still, life-long process, not something in which failure or success will be decided by high stakes tests in April.
I have trouble letting go of my students at the end of the school year, and that’s not surprising. What is surprising is my difficulty with throwing away old anchor charts.
My anchor charts, which are usually written with the students present and then decorated afterwards, remind me of students and lessons of the past. I look at them and see the faces. I remember how the lessons went.
Anchor charts are all about problems and solutions. You see a rough spot in instruction — the students are having trouble doing whatever it is — and you make a chart to help them.
Classroom management is a big reason that I write anchor charts. It’s worthwhile to post on the wall what an expectation is. But over the years I’ve felt that the biggest user of anchor charts is me. I refer to them all day long.
As part of my garage clean out, I took pictures of all the anchor charts. Now I’ve organized them into different topics. And I’ve decided to post them here on the blog, in case they may be of help to someone. The truth is, a lot of them are adaptations of other people’s charts or advice. Some are, on the other hand, totally mine. The ones I’m sharing today were a lot of help in a first grade class.
I start most days writing in ink. I ultimately spend more time on digital spaces but this process of marking a page with a line of ink can only be called spiritual. It’s like riding a horse. There’s muscle memory involved; it’s an integrated process between thought and action. Most of the memoir and novel I’m writing were originally penned in ink on a notebook.
Technology defines us. But I do fear at times both the dystopia of The Terminator, in which rogue computers try to take men over by warlike means, and The Matrix, where the takeover is interior.
Last night in the bookstore, I read the first pages of many memoirs – sensational memoirs, “I was thrown in prison,” “I succumbed to porn addiction,” “in my Southern childhood, we suffered degradation so humiliating, I’ve never been able to be around decent people and feel normal since,” “I murdered someone at age 19 and now I found recovery.”
That last one seemed themost promising but it made me wonder where “I had six kids and my husband had no job and now I was running away across the country in a Suburban trying to find the meaning of life” fits. Does it fit?
It seemed to me these published memoirs were the type of thing which technology has inculcated, in which sensationalism and weirdness is required at all times.
My favorite memoir of all time is my dad’s, which is bound, but was self-published, not because it’s the best necessarily but because it’s the most about me. And that’s also why I love writing in ink on paper: it may not be as good as other writing, but it is really mine and I treasure it.
Great writing should let us connect with the writer deeply. But writing in pen and ink is a shortcut to writing “great writing” for myself: I don’t need to work on becoming connected. There’s a line going straight from my heart and onto the page.
Classical curriculum is very much a stand-and-deliver, sage on the stage type of instruction. So how do you get the well-documented benefits of independent reading and talking about books (often called “reader’s workshop”) in the classical classroom when you’ve got no minutes to implement it and no mandate from administration? You can, through what I’ve decided to call the Back End Reading Workshop, or, if you like, reading when you’re done with your work and other times during the day.
What will you need? The following are the components:
1) Teach students that when they are done with any written assignment they are expected to read a book. The thing to emphasize is that the book must be open or they are off-task. The completed written assignment should be on their desk where you can see it so you know they are done and free to read. They should bring one book from home and have it in their backpack for this purpose. If they don’t have a book lend them one.
2) Collect books for a classroom library. Label the books with your name and something along the lines of “classroom book.” I used to put the classroom number but since room numbers change, that’s not efficient. Just your name.
3) Teach the students how to evaluate whether they want to read a book. Tell them they must be able to read enough of the words so the book makes sense. Tell them the book should be interesting. Tell them if it’s not working, to take it back and get something else.
4) Allow students to raise their hands and go to the library and switch books. Let them take the books home as long as they ask you first.
5) Now is the time to get the beehive of the classroom library really humming. Observe the kids, talk to the kids and if necessary take a reading interest inventory of the class and start collecting the books they really want to read. That means considering subject matter and reading ability level. The easiest way to do this is to do this is to do a Scholastic Book Club, sending book catalogues home, getting the parents to buy a few books, and choosing classroom books offered for free with your order.
That’s really all you have to do to radically increase the independent minutes read daily by your students. And the workshop, or discussion of books aspect? That will happen naturally, as the students find books they are excited about and share and talk about them (whispering, of course) while they’re at the desks, eating lunch, waiting in line at the restroom and before and after school. It happens in my classroom every year — just try it and watch.
I was not a wonderful compliant student. I was more of a disaffected and socially awkward GT type who sometimes chaffed under school routines and expectations. There were some years that didn’t go too well. My first grade classroom, however, I remember as being remarkable.
During kindergarten, I had suffered from social ostracism to some degree. I can remember a girl I wanted so much to be friends with making it public that she was not including me in her birthday party. I remember being mocked by the teacher. I can remember hiding on the playground, or playing alone.
It apparently was bad enough that my mother went down to the school and complained. The principal replied that none of the kindergarten classrooms were likely to be any better.
“Then in first grade, can you please put her in a first-rate classroom?” Mom asked.
That, the principal promised to do, and did.
My first grade teacher let me sit in the classroom library, an alcove with books and cushions, and move at my own pace from easy readers to chapter books. During independent work time, she had set out converted shoe boxes which had been turned into math facts machines — you fed in a paper card with a problem on the front, and it came out the bottom, having turned itself over, and displayed the answer. I mastered the math facts quickly but I absolutely refused to do my “boring” math workbook.
Still, most days were pleasant and equitable in that peaceful classroom. I can remember the teacher’s aide, who every afternoon poured a gallon of water into a plastic pitcher, and then, the next morning, used the “aired out” water to refill the tank of our class goldfish. The swish of the water pouring in was one of those comforting routines of childhood. Taking care of the fish, taking care of the children, peace, serenity. I don’t remember any mean girls from that year.
Mrs. T. knew I didn’t need much of her attention. She let me bloom at my own pace and I never felt ignored or slighted. Yet I had a completely unfilled-in math book. She must have been doing math in small group … or was math done whole group and I was I just refusing to participate? At any rate, it was close to the end of the year. She called my mother and proposed the turtle solution. If I would finish the book, she would buy me a pet turtle, which she knew I deeply wanted. This got me interested. I immediately took the book home. I sat in my room with a pencil and went through page by page. Counting the ducks and writing how many in all. Circling groups of three balls. One digit addition. Then subtraction. There was something like 150 pages of things like that. When I had finished it, my mother came after school and I was awarded two red-eared slider turtles.
I remember my mother, very respectfully, thanking my teacher. I remember my mother’s black pumps and her early 70’s dress, skimming above the knee, and Mrs. T.’s sensible brown teacher loafers, the hem of her blue suit skirt.
Now today, looking back, I marvel at the breadth of Mrs. T’s knowledge of differentiation and her creation of the positive learning environment for all students in a diverse classroom. As I learn more about children, about instruction, the teachers of my childhood drift back into my mind, as my first grade teacher did today, and I marvel at what they knew long before research had explained it. God bless you Mrs. T.
When we chose books for the class, how do we read them? Classical educators tend to rely on the quality of the books to drive instruction, but is there a place for mainline reading strategies in a classical classroom? I would say yes, and here is my description of the basic strategies I use in an average week. I am indebted for this post to Robert Ward (@RewardingEdu) for his blog post “A Balanced approach to teaching literature … “
|Who reads what||Examples:||Appropriate Books||Who chooses the book||Spotlight Objective|
|Teacher read aloud: This strategy is to practice listening comprehension and reader response to heard stories. It is appropriate for when the text itself is too difficult for the class, but the story is something from which they will benefit||Reading “The Wife of Bath’s Tale” to a group of 11th graders.
Reading “Robin Hood” to a fourth grade class.
Reading nursery rhymes in primary grades during circle time.
|The classics – canonized literature from the past
Or – popular or nonfiction books from which the students need to comprehend material, and which are too difficult for them to handle alone.
|The teacher, after surveying the subject matters the class is covering and their interests.||Reading comprehension.|
|Student shared read: In which the teacher reads the text and the students track the words. This is appropriate for when many in the class are able to read the text, but the rest need help and the teacher wants to discuss the material as he or she goes.||Making the basal reader into a read aloud in a 3rd or 4th grade classroom.
|A cross-section of books, including classics, modern day, and non-fiction, but must be more or less on grade level in order to properly engage student readers.||The teacher and the textbook editors of the basal reader. Student preferences can be considered for selection of stories as well.||Comprehension, fluency.|
|Small group guided reading: the teacher calls two to six students to a table and they read and/or discuss previous reading as a small group.||Leading a group of students who are reading a fantasy novel above grade level and discussing their progress.
Taking a group of below-grade-level students and reading an adventure story about dogs.
|Inexpensive consumable books which are leveled to the small group’s ability. Because a classroom needs a lot of them, they tend to be nonfiction and inexpensively produced.||Students and teacher collaborate in choosing from available books.
If books must be downloaded, teacher must chose after considering needs of students.
|Word attack skills, text structure, going back to the text to check, text-to self-connections|
|Independent reading books chosen one by one, by individual student readers, and read by themselves.||Allowing the students free rein over the bookshelves when they have completed their work or when you are leading a small group.||Popular novels and nonfiction books are most commonly chosen, but if classic children’s novels are in the library they will also be chosen.||Students chose by themselves.||Fluency, text-to-self connections|
At times have I seen the students lose focus, and start to whisper and look at each other, glance under the books into the desks. Instruction grinds down to a crawl. The teacher has to do something at these moments. “Now students,” I might say, “I know, it seems like you have time to play in class, but at 3:00 you will be leaving for the day. Time is passing faster than you know, we have to get through the curriculum of this year before June, and as Benjamin Franklin said, “Time which is lost is never found again.”
They look at me questioningly. Unbelieving. Time is infinite when you’re nine years old.
“Yes it’s true,” I tell them. “When you’re young, it seems like Saturday will never come, but it will. Even years go by. Where you are now, a child, I once was, and where I am today, a grandparent, you some day will be.”
They look pensive. They are considering whether this might be true. Turning into someone my age is not something they think is really possible. But it might be true. It clearly happened to me. They stop looking in the desks.
“Okay,” I say, because I’ve got them back. “Pick up those pencils, and write this down,” I put the instruction on the board, return to asking questions, moving on. In the afternoon, we will do independent work, stations, singing, dancing, etc., but the ability to listen attentively to instruction is to me a non-negotiable for a capable student.
What I have done I call admonition, direct instruction in personal character. It’s difficult to do. It has to be motivated by a sincere concern for student welfare. And you have to put yourself in there too, be honest about what you wish you had done, back when you were nine. It’s a way of remembering yourself. You were like them, years ago. Don’t you wish someone had explained some things back then? If so, tell the students today.