This March I’m “slicing” a piece of my day every day in chronological order, sequentially.
I start my day twice. With two classes, the nature of my school life is a “do over.”
The first fifteen minutes of both classes are choice literacy. Students get to choose their literary desire. A graphic novel, Ripley’s Believe it or Not, Scholastic Magazine, blog, read a picture book, write a bit of poetry, refine a story, shop for books, request books, talk about books. And sometimes just talk.
Fifth graders love to talk, and if the opportunity presents, all will partake. I understand. I tolerate it for a while. Then, some days sooner than others, I remind students:
“Readers! Writers! Choice literacy means choosing to read or write. What are you reading or writing?”
The noise dies down. Books, notebooks, Chromebooks open.
Reading clubs come to the carpet to shop. I book talk The Watson’s Go to Birmingham as a follow up to the club’s last read, One Crazy Summer. The group of conscientious boy readers is attentive. They listen and then read. I watch. Two of the four are intently reading. The other two have set the book down and gaze at titles on the bookshelf. Next, they check out a James Patterson book, one of the I Funny series. As much as I want them to read the Watsons, it’s their choice. The group is split. Negotiations begin. They agree to read I Funny first. The Watsons second. The deal is done.
Choice time has eight minutes left.
Chatter and whispers follow the boys to their seats. Then finally, students settle. Into an intense quiet. This quiet is personal. Self-directed. Students are together but alone. I cherish these minutes. This place of self-sustained absorption.
I plan to take this time to confer with a student. And I do. But sometimes I stop and watch. Heads down buried in words. This is their time, and I hesitate to break the spell for any student who has found a sweet spot.
But, there are lessons to learn and ideas to share.
“Readers. Writers. Finish the sentence you are on, and join me on the carpet.”
The quiet vanishes and our day of chatter, clatter, rustling papers, and the occasional thud of a flipped water bottle begins.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers for the Slice of Life March Challenge. Read more slices here.