The Choir Doesn't Need The Preaching

I just returned from my first professional speaking experience. I was asked to present at two of the 2017 Scholastic Reading Summit locations, which was both exciting and nerve-wracking. 

Did I have anything to say? Scratch that. Did I have anything NEW to say? I feel that I am kind of out here saying the things that many of us already know. Many of the things that so many teachers already do in their classrooms. Then, I realized that I am saying these things and sharing my classroom experiences mostly with educators already inside the kid lit community.

Each time I step outside of that community, I worry about what I see. I worry about the posts flooding Facebook Literacy communities. I worry about the posts I see on Instagram. I especially worry about the general education questions that flood my DMs. A friend recently told me that you can tell a lot about where a teacher is in their journey by the questions they ask you. As someone who has come a long way since their first year of teaching, and as someone who still has many miles to go, I have recently been thinking a lot about how I approach these educators.

I remember a few summers ago when I was filled with questions, more so than normal. It was the school year that a representative from the county told me that "I ask a lot of questions," in front of my colleagues during a PD session. It was also the year that I joined Twitter and stumbled upon the hashtag #nerdcampmi. I had just read Reading in the Wild, and could not ask enough questions. I wrote down every literacy person mentioned in the book, joined social media outlets with my educator hat on and fell down so many hashtag rabbit holes. It was a year of tremendous growth for me.

It was a year in which I had a lot of questions.

A lot of questions that probably felt stupid, or obvious to those I was asking.

Now my thinking is hanging in the balance. Each day, the pendulum swings from "hey, let me get you some great resources for that" and "I'm still growing my learning on that topic as well," to "You just read The Book Whisperer and you STILL don't get it?!" It is an overwhelming piece and it is one that I think about more than I need to.

I want to help others, like those that have helped me along the way. We need support from each other. I will help others. I will continue to open up dialogues (especially ones that teachers don't want to talk about), I will continue to post articles and link to research we all should know, as I hope others will continue to do for me, and I will continue to answer the questions I am asked, but at some point... I need teachers to start helping themselves. Yes, the community is out there to provide support, but I have put in a tremendous amount of self-guided work along the way. I have read many books, I have used trial and error in the classroom, reached out to others, and I've even taken to Google when I have a question that could easily... be answered... by a Google search.

My frustrations are not with the questions asked.

My frustrations lie in this space: when we know better, why are we not doing better?

Kylene Beers said it best:

If children want to learn vocabulary, 
they should read.
If they need to develop fluency,
they should read.
If they need to learn about a topic, 
they should read.
If they need to be a person they are not, 
they should read.
If they need to grow, to stretch, to dream, to laugh, to cry, to find a friend, to vanquish a foe,
they should read.

We know this, right? Yet, what do so many teachers have children doing? 

Not reading.
Timing reading.
Counting pages.
Counting minutes.
Logging reading.
Logging pages.
Logging minutes.
Leveling reading.
Leveling kids.
Leveling groups.
Leveling books.
Printing worksheets.
Collecting worksheets.
Grading worksheets.

It just all feels like complete madness to me.