For many students, reading has become a task to complete in preparation for class and or the first step in finding an argument for an assigned paper, not a process of exploration, reflection, or contextualization. (Linkon, “Defining Critical Reading”)

Having little knowledge of the scholarship of teaching literature, I was fascinated by the Visible Knowledge Project (VKP). I knew such scholarship existed, I just had never read the “behind the scenes” perspectives of educators tackling the question of how to help students become more critical and active readers.

As I explored the VKP website and read educator’s posters, one formative experience in my personal literary narrative came to mind. Flashback to the summer of 1993: the summer before sixth grade. I was determined to win my local library’s “Reading Stars” contest. To be more specific, I was determined to beat one “Jane Doe,” a friend with whom I had a particularly competitive relationship. With a cash prize at stake, both of us geared up by loading our bookbags with the newest and most interesting books our library had to offer.

To ensure that we were in fact reading the books we checked out, we had to fill out summary cards in which we identified the genre, the main characters, the basic plot, and central themes of every work we read. Now, I had always loved reading. As a child, I was often scolded for hiding a book in my lap at the dinner table. Perhaps because the majority of my reading occurred outside of school, my main “goal” in reading was “fun.” (Though I doubt I would have looked at reading in terms of goals at all). Not long into this contest, however, I was reading only with the dreaded summary card in mind. In my family, we referred to it as SCOD—the summary card of doom.

I did not win the contest. If you must know, “Jane” won by piling her library bag with children’s books. (Seriously, how hard is it to fill out a SCOD for The Hungry Caterpillar? Right?). Our friendship eventually recovered, but at the time, I was very disappointed. I was angry with her for turning to children’s books, but I was also I was annoyed at myself for not discovering–and taking advantage of–her strategy and making that sweet cash prize mine-all-mine.

Not long into my middle school experience, I learned that the dreaded SCOD that had tormented me all summer long was actually a blessing in disguise. I began to read everything with a SCOD in mind. I had always been a good student, but suddenly, I was pulling A’s left and right. My parents were pleased. My teachers were pleased. I was even asked to create a list of reading strategies to share with my classmates.

But despite all this attention, something was off. I no longer enjoyed reading—at least not in the way I used to. Instead of seeing reading as exploratory, I started reading for a distinct purpose: information. I became a master-skimmer and scanner. I attacked each text with the ruthless efficiency. Further, I began shunning more challenging and non-traditional texts because it was harder to find “the answers.”

This strategy pretty much worked for me through 12th grade. Sure, my readings became a little more nuanced. I identified more complex ideas and offered more interpretations. Still, for the most part, Linkon’s quote (included at the top of my post) was the modus operandi—and not just for me, but for most high-achieving students at my high school. Such “schoolish behavior” is what got us into top colleges. Once there, most of us found that in many cases, these strategies continued to work. In higher-level courses, however, the jig was up. “Where are you in this paper?” asked one especially perceptive professor.

I’ve already written entirely too much, but I want to note that Linkon’s Inquiry Project struck me as a well-planned, step-by-step method of breaking students’ schoolish behaviors. It’s ironic that it might take such structure to make students more comfortable with open-endedness; however, the structured approach is key. You can’t just say “suspend your analysis and read with an open mind” to students that have been trained to read like they’re on a “seek-and-destroy” mission. As both Linkon and Bass point out, students of all levels are uncomfortable with uncertainty. There is perhaps nothing so frustrating as a teacher who does not define their expectations.

The inquiry project defines expectations and identifies intermediate steps, but it also alleviates the pressure of finding “the answer” or producing a research paper. The structure of the assignment provides clear guidelines, while allowing room for student-directed research and analysis. Linkon’s discussion of Rikki’s analysis of No-No Boy provided a great example of this process. (I don’t know how many times I abandoned a particular line of research because I couldn’t find enough background articles).

Whew. Sorry for the marathon post…I guess this is kind of a combined literacy narrative/weekly response. I look forward to discussing the VKP in class this Wednesday.

Sara