For three weeks
in December, two of my eleventh-grade classes read physical books in class,
whatever they wanted, and had no other homework beyond writing a page a day in
physical journals, about whatever they wanted. There was no project attached,
no standards about what they read or wrote. My only role during these three weeks
was to enforce the routine—observe they were indeed reading, check off their accretion
of writing.
Query: What will happen if you, students, get to choose your own book for school and you have a routine of reading, unplugged, together in a community every day for a few weeks? What will happen if you enter into a routine of free writing daily by hand?
Theory: You will increase your stamina and pleasure reading, and also become better observers of your day, eventually taking pleasure in getting down thoughts, ideas, observations and experiences; these improvements will, in turn, position you to heighten your concentration, curiosity, empathy, and critical precision.
Methods: Daily reading in class, daily writing at home.
I wanted to see students getting absorbed in the reading of physical books, improving stamina and concentration and quietude, sharpening curiosity and empathic generosity for other points of view.I wanted to see students writing in physical journals, gathering and training the swarm of daily thoughts and observations, deepening how they move through the world and building upon thoughts and feelings.
And I wanted students to be free of those
layered demands an assignment or audience evokes—to get as far away from
grades as possible, experience themselves in relation to imaginative-ness and
creativity and story and reflection with no one looking over their shoulder,
checking if they were reading or thinking right or getting what they needed for
a deliverable product.
Here’s how it
went.
Fifth period
was better at it—more interested, more involved, more engaged. After amiable socializing at the start, I’d feel them every day settle in and get absorbed.
In sixth period,
that never happened long. They remained hyper-aware of who had the bathroom pass
and of my location in the room and if I was watching them. They’d sneak
conversations and homework and even toys like a Rubik’s Cube I saw discretely passed
around.
And what did they think? When we returned
to school this week after the three weeks of reading, we took a full period to reflect on the experiment.
About half in
each class finished the book they’d started, even though there was no requirement
to do so. In fifth
period, many additionally spoke of how they found the reading sessions a time
to slow down and take a break from the grind of the day, to relax and make time
for reading they wouldn’t find otherwise. About 80% of them looked forward to it;
90% really enjoyed the books they’d chosen. And most telling of all, about 55%
continued reading into the holiday break when it was no longer required. There
was some restlessness there: Some said they just didn’t like holding still and
reading with others, and a couple students in fifth period said
they hated reading and didn't stop. But mostly fifth period liked the experience,
and some reported real change: “It helped me start reading again.” “I’m not a
good reader, so I’m surprised how much I got into it.” “I went from looking at
words to visualizing story in my mind.” “This reminded me how much I like
reading.” “I realized books are an entertainment outside my phone I want to
make time for.”
In sixth period, meanwhile, I encountered more anger,
resistance, and attempts to work the system from the start. Only 30% looked
forward to reading sessions, and 60%, not 90, liked the books they’d chosen;
only 20% continued reading over the ungraded holiday break. There were those
who liked ending their school day this way, but most reported the discomfort of
their chairs, the dryness of the reading, the awkwardness of silence, the
boredom.
So what do the
disparities between class mean? Are the types of students in the class so
different? Here’s what I say to that: It’s the typical difference between
classes that happen, as any teacher might describe. No matter how a teacher
shifts and plans, some groups are in it and some aren’t, as a group culture burns
from many interactive dynamics made up of many social and academic histories
and more.
It does seem
very much in the nature of truth and messiness that both experiences happened. I
launched the whole experience as a reaction to my anger at what I perceived to
be sixth period’s lack of curiosity and focus and the phones and shifting
academic and leisure experiences I blamed for them. The fact that sixth period
more than fifth continued in restless mercenary reaction to the experiment does
not make the results ironic but earns a sigh. The lesson is I need to play this
differently with sixth period, or, what may be wiser and more sustainable for a
teacher: sometimes intentions click, and sometimes they’re frustrated.
As for the experiment
with writing, it failed. What I hoped was that students given
no prompts would, if minds already churned, start noticing details throughout
the day or generate ideas while writing; or, for more phone-addled minds, I
hoped they’d get bored and then become resourceful or creative and find another
gear, turning to internet prompts and poetry and story, and so discover new
creativity and energy. But that didn’t happen. Writing remained a chore for most. This
is less interesting to me. Students can use prompts and more guidance for
better results, and I can offer that.
But the experiment
in reading poses much larger challenges and questions. I do think internet and
then smart phones have changed relationships to reading, to knowledge, to
learning, to concentration, to entertainment, as with so many other aspects of
our economic and social world. As a teacher, I mourn some of the deep changes I
have observed over time. But I don’t blame the technological revolutions alone: I
blame growing class inequality in America, and the escalating costs of
universities that have created conditions for the anxious resumé-padding in
which families engage from the time kids are little-little. One possible
conclusion, especially from results in my fifth period class, is that a lot of
these kids even now would likely be reading if they weren’t grinding it all day
and after school, competing in select team sports, etc. School is getting in the way
of their learning and curiosity and concentration, because it’s all day and so
exhausting that down-time is an experience streaming and scrolling-scrolling-scrolling
rather than the sustained, broad, imaginative and reflectively thoughtful,
quiet experience of a book.
