Why Do We Read?

A few weeks ago a colleague approached me about doing an independent reading project with all of our seniors. We often hear from alumni that they're overwhelmed by the increase in the amount of reading they need to do, so the overall goal was to help our students ramp up their reading (in terms of both speed and comprehension) before heading to college. But I grabbed at the opportunity to sneak in a few of my goals around promoting reading as well.

I believe that helping students develop a love of reading is one of the most important things I can do--and the one that will have the greatest impact on students over the course of their lives. Lifelong readers and lifelong learners. And there's more and more research pointing to the idea that reading helps people be more empathetic--and the ability to look at an issue from different points of view is, I believe, another vital skill for all people.

I see a lot of my students struggle with picking out something they want to read "for fun." The idea of "pleasure reading" is, for many of them, an oxymoron. So I wanted to focus on both why reading is something people choose to do even when it's not assigned, and on how to pick out something that will be enjoyable to read.

For the first part, I turned to Twitter, Facebook, and e-mail in order to gather responses to the question "why do you read?" Reading those responses was pretty much the best thing ever (I'm still getting replies, and will hopefully have a chance to update my presentation at some point). The responses were better than I could have hoped for in the breadth of perspectives they offered. I organized the presentation based on major themes that emerged in the responses, and then focused specifically on responses from faculty and staff at my school.




After spending some time talking about why to read, we segued into picking out what to read. I love the "speed dating with books" projects I'd seen other librarians do, and wanted to build on that idea. But given how I've seen many of my students try to pick out books before (grab first book they see, quickly flip through it, ask to check it out), I wanted to avoid time pressure. So I did more of a "mixer." Students still had speed dating-type scorecards to keep notes on the books, but were free to move from book to book and table to table at their own pace.

And let me tell you--it was awesome. Using the dating analogy gave us plenty of jokes and terrible puns to use as we talked about the books, which also took the pressure off. We talked about knowing what your "type" is--do you like blondes, brunettes, or mysteries? I encouraged students to look at a books they thought they wouldn't like, telling them it's good to know what doesn't work for you in a reading relationship, too. I offered to play matchmaker for students who were having trouble finding a book they connected with. I emphasized that they did not need to worry about hurting a book's feelings if they rejected it. And when I checked a book out to a student, I told them, "I hope you two will be happy together."


I love doing reader's advisory (and wish I was better at it) and I love when a student comes in to talk about what they're reading, or thank me for picking out a good book for them. What I love most about this project is that instead of students coming in and saying "I love the book you picked out for me" they're saying "I love the book I picked out."

This is what happens when you require certain types of sources

During lunch on Saturday a student came up to me to ask me about sources he wanted to use for a project.

Student: You know how on Wikipedia they list their sources on the bottom of the page? Is it okay to use those?
Me: Of course. That's how research works--you see what sources other people are using when they research similar topics and then you use those sources for your own research.
Student: So I can cite a book even if I haven't seen it?
Me: Wait, what?
Student: There's a book on my topic in the references on Wikipedia, and I want to cite it in my bibliography.
Me: Even though you've never read any of the information in the book, or even seen it?
Student: Yeah.
Me: No.

And then we talked about how to get to our Biography databases and other places to look for actual information, and then I sat down and banged my head against the table for a while and then ate my lunch.

I often hear other librarians get frustrated with teachers who require that students have X number of print sources (particularly when they won't accept digital content as meeting that requirement) and I occasionally share those frustrations (though anytime I have approached a colleague with concerns about such requirements, every last one of them has been receptive and flexible). Selecting sources based on container rather than content seems counterintuitive.

But I also understand why teachers have those requirements, and the goals they're trying to accomplish make sense to me.

Sometimes consulting a print book is the best possible starting point for a student simply because the information in there is limited. Even the largest book is puny compared to a list of search results on Google. The table of contents and index of a book are far easier to navigate and interpret than most database search result--and learning how to navigate a table of contents and index is helpful when it comes to understanding how other types of searches work. And yes, students need to learn how to navigate all kinds of search results, but those aren't necessarily the skills they need to be focusing on at every stage of every research process. 

More importantly, without the requirement of having to have a print book, or a database article, or any particular type of source, there are many students who would never even consult these resources.Without (seemingly arbitrary) requirements, many students would not push themselves out of their comfort zones when researching. They'd simply stick with the resources and formats that they've always used. And good research strategies and skills are, in many ways, about moving out of your comfort zone; most of us don't leave our comfort zone easily, and those requirements can help pull students out of theirs.
 
But sometimes the sources that meet the requirements aren't the best sources for a project. Sometimes what I have in physical format in the library is inferior to what can be found online, through a database or a website. And sometimes a book on the library's shelves has the perfect bit of information that will become an "aha!" moment for a student.

This is one of those "easy to answer in an ideal world" questions for me. In an ideal world, there would always be the time, and structure, and support for students to consult a diverse array of sources before settling on the ones that best met their needs. Students would willingly move out of their comfort zone--or at least not actively resist.

But most of us don't work in that ideal world. There are limits to our time. There are limits to our resources. But we can nudge around the edges. We can encourage, and we can push, and we can cajole. We can challenge ourselves, and our colleagues, and our students to think broadly about what types of sources we use, and why. And at the very least we can be clear that someone else's Works Cited page can be an excellent source--but not one to copy and paste into your own.

A tale of two conferences

While going through my inbox the other day I clicked on a link about an upcoming conference in my area; I was hoping to find out a bit more, but also saw that they were still seeking proposals. Having been on both ends of the request for proposals, I'm always interested in to see what different organizations ask for.

The request was pretty standard, until I got to the section on AV requirements; the form specified that standard AV equipment would be provided, including overhead projector and VCR/monitor. Presenters were asked to bring their own LCD projector, if possible.

About an hour or so later I got another e-mail, asking me to participate in a conference program described as "Battledecks meets TED."

The first call for proposals was like almost every call I've ever seen, until I got to the AV section. The only distinguishing feature was the listing of technology that I did not think was still in popular usage

The second call was also very similar to requests I've seen. Except in this case the distinguishing feature was how they described the "feel" they wanted a presentation to have.

I go to a lot of conferences (fewer this year than in years past, but I still have several under my belt), and I have a pretty extensive online network for resources and ideas. And there is a lot of overlap in terms of sessions, topics, ideas, and even attendees. Which is great. But even with that overlap, different conferences and different online communities often end up having a different feel for me. Despite being able to get the same types of information from many different places, I often feel myself pulled towards particular learning communities.

I'd never given that much thought, but seeing these two very similar--and very, very different--calls for proposals so close together brought the idea to the forefront of my mind. While these two conferences are likely to have a significant overlap of ideas, there's only one I'm interested in attending (just to be clear, it's the "Battledecks meets TED" one. Because, obviously).

There are a lot of ways to present and share the same information. I've been to sessions (or read articles) on very similar topics that leave me with very different feelings. In one I may walk away feeling energized and ready to put an idea into action; in another I may walk away feeling like I've just been chastised for being behind the curve.

I'm thinking about this more consciously as I "Mark All As Read" some blogs in my Google Reader, while reading and reflecting on others. I pore over every article in some journals, while casually flipping through others before tossing them aside. I make plans to attend (in person or virtually) some conferences, while saying, "Eh, maybe some other year" to others.

When I talk to my students about research, I tell them that the issue I most regularly faced when doing research in high school was not being able to find enough information; that is, most often, not the challenge they face. The challenge they confront is focusing and narrowing and separating the wheat from the chaff.

I'm working on applying that idea more consciously to my own professional research. Finding ideas and information is no longer the challenge. Finding a professional network that inspires and challenges and supports me is. And this is not just about surrounding myself with people who share all the same ideas--I want to be surrounded by people who push my thinking in new directions, without making me feel like I'm a failure if I'm not already doing X, Y, and Z.

So I'm trying to more consciously look for the feel I get from really inspiring conference experiences from my online networks. Do they leave me feeling overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Inspired? Chastised? Excited? Encouraged?

The right network for me will be the wrong network for someone else. But I should be as discerning in selecting my sources as I encourage my students to be in selecting theirs.

Like a splinter or like a journalist

Last night I had the honor of spending some time (via Skype--thank you all for your patience with my technical difficulties!) with a group of school librarians in Nebraska talking about embedded librarianship. The slides from my talk are below.

Embedded school librarianship - NEMA from formanlibrary

It was a wonderful opportunity to talk about the why and how I've embraced the sometimes messy process of becoming a more embedded librarian. As I talked about in my presentation, I believe that embedding ourselves in different teaching and learning spaces is the natural evolution of the collaborative efforts that have been at the heart of our profession for so long. 

Fight in the Dining Hall: A Research Allegory

I know it's been quiet here on the blog--it's been a busy fall in many ways. But tonight I finished a project I've been thinking about for a while, and I wanted to share.

When I talk to students about research, I always talk about trying to get as close to the original source as possible. This often comes up in discussions about Wikipedia, when I point students to the Reference list at the bottom of articles (which few of them had noticed before). The analogy I usually use is to explain that research works kind of like gossip--the story can get distorted the farther you get from the original source. I often create a version of the story depicted below involving students in the class. Using the gossip analogy has often helped students grasp the "get to a primary source" idea.

I'd been toying for a while with the idea of creating some sort of video to illustrate the story, but I don't have a lot of film making expertise. But as I was playing with apps for some different projects, I had an "aha!" moment about how I could make this project.

I used Skitch (to make the drawings) and Explain Everything (to create the video) on my iPad to make the video. I can't decide if it's nerdtastic, or the most nerdtastic thing I've ever made, but I'm pretty happy with how it came out.

Sweat, Tears, or Sea

“The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.” – Isak Dinesen

The last school year involved a fair amount of both sweat and tears. At one point it was suggested that every time I cry at work I should get a pedicure; I am many pedicures behind.

In starting to write this I was hesitant to admit that sometimes I cry at work; I know some people will think that it makes me seem weak or unprofessional. I was getting ready to write a justification, but then I remembered that it's okay to cry:



Anyway, this summer I have been lucky enough to spend some time on the sea, which I think is the most powerful salt water cure.

There is something about standing in the ocean that makes me feel both insignificant and powerful. Insignificant because I am just this small, small person on the edge of a vast, unknown territory. Powerful because despite being up against something bigger and infinitely stronger, I manage to keep my head above water.

I usually first stand in the water facing out, so I can anticipate and react to the waves. But as I get my "sea legs" I turn and face the shore, letting myself be carried by the waves. I gradually trust in my ability to react to the waves even though I can't always see them. And if sometimes I get a face full of water? Oh well.

The ocean, like so many challenges we face, is huge and beyond our direct control. And while I find that frustrating in my work life, it is one of the things that makes the ocean so beautiful.

So much is beyond our control; sometimes we just have to trust in our ability to ride the wave, and keep our head above water. And even if we don't manage that all the time, it's just a little salt water, and we can prepare ourselves for the next wave.

Early on in the summer, I spent a day in Gloucester with some friends. While we were wading on the beach a little boy approached the edge of water. He was all limbs and belly, and watching him move I thought, "Ah, that's why they're called toddlers." And he loved the water. He moved as fast as he could get his legs to carry him straight towards the ocean. And, inevitably, fall either forward or backward onto the sand. And then immediately get up and charge full-speed ahead once again. Sometimes he'd start charging in the wrong direction, but as soon as he figured out he was no longer headed towards the water he did an about-face and headed towards the water once again.

I loved watching him approach something so big and so unknowable with such enthusiasm and joy; I loved that the last thing he wanted to do was turn away from a challenge.

The analogy became clear to me in one of those moments that I believe is only possible while standing in the ocean. There are challenges to face, but there are also forces larger than myself in play. I can run, full-speed, arms open to the challenges this year will bring; but that doesn't mean I have the power to control them all. I sometimes I wish I could choose which challenges I want to face, but then they're not challenges. You can't pick which waves come to shore.

And I was reminded, too, that I love the challenges. I can approach challenges with joy and with enthusiasm--even if the end result is a face full of salt water. That's all part of it.

This summer has been, very deliberately on my part, a time of reflection. I hope, as what promises to be another busy year gets underway, that I remember the sea, and that no matter how overwhelming things may seem, I can still stay on my feet.

With your feet in the sand, it doesn't matter what state your pedicure is in

Figure/Ground

I was recently in New York City for the SLJ Day of Dialogue. I love going to New York, but I also find it overwhelming. I have lived most of my life in rural areas, and I spend so little time in cities (especially big cities) that I often feel a bit of sensory overload.

However, I had an "ah ha!" moment while walking around Sunday afternoon--I find New York overwhelming because, for me, it is all figure, no ground.

I'll admit I have a very basic understanding of figure-ground organization (I had to look it up to make sure I had the right terminology for my insight), but the easiest way to understand it (at least in the way I'm using it) is in optical illusions like the Rubin Vase. An observer can either see it as two faces in profile, or a vase. The definition of what the image is depends on the interpretation of the observer, not on the image itself. Again, I am not an expert in this; it's just the analogy that helped me make sense of my experience.

For some reason, thinking about how overwhelming my current surroundings were brought to mind a (for me) completely opposite experience. This was many, many years ago--if I had to guess, I'd say I was in middle school. Some of my cousins were visiting our house in upstate New York. I grew up in the Adirondacks, surrounded by fields and mountains, with our "next door" neighbors about a tenth of a mile down the road. A few of my cousins--most of whom lived in the suburbs--were visiting, and they were absolutely fascinated by the cows that lived in the field next to our house. And all I could think was, "What's the big deal? They're just cows; they smell and they attract flies."

For me, the cows were ground; for my cousins, they were figure. For me, everything in New York City was figure; for everyone around me, it was mostly ground.

As I was thinking about and contrasting those two experiences ("so many people! so much to look at! so many sounds/smells/sights!" vs. "what's the big deal, they're just cows"), I started wondering if there are professional conversations in which we've made things ground that really need to be figure--or are making things figure that really should be ground.

Kristin Fontichiaro's recent blog post What Admins Think of Librarian Messages highlights a perfect example of what I'm talking about. Maybe our advocacy efforts aren't as effective as we like not because our messages are being ignored; maybe the messages are being heard, but they're not the right messages.

I wonder, too, if it goes deeper than that. Are there situations in which we've made "the problem" ground, when it's really still figure? When we meet failure in our advocacy efforts, are we staying with the same definition of the problem even though the reason we've met failure is because we're trying to solve the wrong problem? If we've misidentified the problem, there is no chance of identifying the right solution.

On a different level, I wonder how much these figure/ground (mis)perceptions affect our teaching. I don't think we do this consciously, but many teachers (and I include myself in this) often make the process of learning ground, when for many students it is still figure--or, worse, the students have made it ground without actually having a solid understanding of the learning process and themselves as learners. This can range from the "good student" who has become adept at absorbing information and returning the "right" answers at the right time to the "bad student" who has given up on themselves as a learner because this process that seems to come naturally to others--which their teachers don't teach explicitly, further reinforcing the idea that students should naturally know how to do it--does not come naturally to them.

I hear again and again from teachers, "I don't have time for XYZ skill, I need to cover more content." We have, in many ways, made content figure, while keeping the process of learning ground. But is that what education is about? We tend assume (particularly as students get older) that the process of learning is ground for our students, that they have well-established habits of mind. But this is not necessarily true--and even if students have mastered the process of learning when they're younger, as brains mature they become capable of different kinds of thinking. And, as with any truly valuable and complex skill, learning takes practice. If you'll excuse the pun, by assuming that the process of learning is ground for our students, we may be building on a weak foundation.

I also wonder how figure/ground (mis)perceptions impact our teaching of technology. I know many teachers (of all ages) who assume that students just naturally know how to use technology of all kinds effectively. Students may have grown up around these technologies, but that does not mean they have any natural, innate ability. We all grew up around books and print, but I don't know of any "print natives" who had a natural, innate ability to read just because they grew up around books. Letters, words, and their meanings had to be raised to figure for all of us to learn to read. We need to help students raise the technology they're surrounded by from ground to figure in order for them to learn to be thoughtful, effective users of the tools available to them.

The same goes for all sorts of skills--just because a student is good at hanging out with friends does not mean they intuitively understand how to effectively collaborate.

For some of us, these skills have been ground for us for so long that we forget that they used to be figure for us. This is a big part of why I think ongoing learning is such a vital part of being an effective teacher--it makes it easier for you to stay in the mindset of your students, and remember how challenging the process of grappling with new information can be.

It's important for us to step outside ourselves and make a conscious effort to move our assumptions--about all kinds of things--from ground to figure. If we don't try and see things from another point of view, we risk losing all perspective.