Develop Common Core informational and argument skills with Bill Bryson’s book

A Really Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. 2008. New York: Delacorte Press. 161 pages.

Ages: Written primarily for middle school and up, but appealing to readers from upper elementary through adult.

Genre: Informational, emphasizing astronomy, physics, and some history.

Summary

Curiosity may have killed off a cat or two, but it definitely breathes life into informational writing—as evidenced by the work of noted author Bill Bryson. This new edition of Bryson’s bestselling A Short History of Nearly Everything has been condensed and adapted for younger readers—and the result is a book that makes physics and astronomy accessible not only for students, but for many adult readers as well. The ambitious title comes from the fact that the book deals with nothing less than the origin of the universe itself—and goes on to address major cosmic questions like these: Is there an “edge” to the universe? How many solar systems are there? How old is the earth? What are the odds of any living thing becoming a fossil? What happened to the dinosaurs? Does time have a shape? Should we fear asteroids? What pushed ocean living creatures onto land? Are we headed for chilly times—or a big warm-up?  These and literally hundreds of other related questions are tackled headlong through Bryson’s obvious passion for science and exploration. The style is conversational and snappy; chapters are short, easy to digest, and amply illustrated, both with striking photos and comical (often enlightening) cartoon drawings. Bryson’s primary goal is to give us a memorable and readable overview of how our universe, solar system, planet, and species came to be. No single topic is explored in great depth; but for the “big picture” (and I do mean big), this book is hard to beat. Most striking is Bryson’s obvious fascination with his topic. As he says in his Foreword, “Whether you are talking about how the universe began from nothing, or how each one of us is made up of trillions of mindless atoms that somehow work together in an agreeably coordinated fashion, or why the oceans are salty, or what happens when stars explode, or anything at all—it is all amazingly interesting. It really is.” There’s a lesson here. The capacity to find your topic “amazingly interesting” leads to supremely good writing.  You won’t find that stated anywhere in the Common Core standards—yet it just might be the single most important thing we can teach our young informational writers.

In the Classroom

There are several ways to use a well-written informational text such as this one:

• Use it as a source of information students can then use to write their own essays, summaries, or commentary.
• Discuss strategy, considering how the writer chooses details, organizes information, or makes technical passages appealing and understandable.
• Use selected passages (or chapters) as models.

Following are suggestions for incorporating various forms of these three approaches, while emphasizing skills specified in the Common Core Standards:

1. Reading. This would be a very long book to share aloud in its entirety, but if you preview it, you will find many favorite chapters to choose from. And since each chapter runs only two pages (Bryson sticks to this consistently), it’s fairly easy to share a chapter as an introduction to discussion or a writing lesson. Note: If you teach science and want additional background, by all means check out the parent book: A Short History of Nearly Everything, 2003, New York: Broadway Books.
2. Presentation. Though presentation is something we often discuss last, in this case, it’s a good place to begin. That’s because the layout of the book is both visually appealing and thoughtfully integrated with the text. Notice the playful chapter head fonts, the various kinds of illustrations, the generous use of subheadings that make smaller topics easy to locate, and the ample use of white space (open space) that makes an occasionally technical discussion look easy to read. Be sure to use a document projector if you have one available.
3. Topic.  Notice the title of the book. Normally, we caution students to keep their topics small and manageable. This is anything but! Did Bryson go too far . . . or, does he find a way to handle this seemingly infinite topic?
4. The set-up.  If you’re familiar with the Common Core Standards for informational writing, you know that they call for skill in setting up a discussion. Share the early chapter, “How do they know that?” to see how Bryson does this. What do your students think? Is he successful?
5. Developing the topic. The Common Core Standards for informational writing also require the writer to develop or expand the topic through “facts, definitions, concrete details, quotations, or other information and examples.” Does Bryson do a good job of this? In answering this question, you might begin by scanning the Table of Contents, to see what general sub-topics he covers. Then, as you share and discuss individual chapters, look for the ways in which Bryson develops or expands his topic. In other words, does he rely on facts? Definitions? Concrete details? Or—other means? Or does Bryson, in fact, meet ALL the criteria of the Common Core?
6. Organization. Organization that promotes readers’ understanding is highly valued in the Common Core. One might think that organizing a book about “nearly everything” would be an all-but-impossible task. Of course, the book isn’t literally about everything—it has focus, meaning that some topics (cooking, pet ownership, European architecture) cannot be included. But in scanning the Table of Contents, pay attention to what Bryson discusses first, next, and last. See if your students can identify a pattern. Would they have organized anything differently? Left something out? Added something? Moved things around?
7. Background and summary. What do your students know from previous reading (or other research) about the so-called Big Bang? How do they think of it? What existed prior to this point—and afterward? Share the chapter called “The Big Bant” (pp. 6-7). Then, ask students to write a summary description of the “Big Bang.” Was it really a “bang” like an explosion—or something more complex and subtle? Is it still going on today?
8. Detail. One of the hallmarks of great informational writing is its capability to teach readers new information. In this book, we learn some astonishing things: e.g., gravity emerged within “a trillionth of a trillionth of a trillionth of a second after the Big Bang” (p. 6). What other details are truly standouts—things that are definitely not common knowledge, and that we might not learn from a typical textbook? Make a list. Encourage students to include at least one such detail in each piece of their own informational writing.
9. Research. It’s startling (if not downright hilarious) to note that critics of A Really Short History have suggested that Bryson has not adequately documented sources for his information—“not that we don’t trust him,” as one put it. True, this book does not have footnotes or endnotes. But surely, author Bill Bryson is not just making things up as he goes along—or trusting to memory . . . is he? Indeed, he is not. Begin by discussing research strategies with students. Where do they suppose Bryson got most of his information? From interviews? Reading? Personal experience? Actually—all of the above. For documentation, see the book on which this one is based, A Short History of Nearly Everything.  In that earlier edition, Bryson thoroughly documents his research, beginning with the Acknowledgments (pp. vii to ix). He also includes an impressive set of Notes (pp. 479 to 516). Indeed, Bryson’s Notes are longer than some books. He also offers us a lengthy bibliography (pp. 517 to 527). Secondary students or others wishing for additional information (or further expansion of ideas) should consult A Short History, using A Really Short History as a kind of introduction.
10. Voice. Critics are almost never happy, it seems. But some have actually complained that this book is not as humorous as some of Bryson’s work. Really? Well, it’s challenging to make jokes about the periodic table or the Richter Scale. But at the same time, Bryson has a wry wit, and a good sense of the absurd: “Of course, it is possible that alien beings travel billions of kilometres [British spelling] to amuse themselves by planting crop circles in the English countryside, or frightening the daylights out of some poor guy in a truck on a lonely road in Arizona, but it does seem unlikely” p. 20).  So—what sort of voice is this anyway? After sharing a few passages aloud, ask your students to respond to this question, also discussing how voice influences the effectiveness of informational writing. Most students should notice, among other things, that Bryson is extremely enthusiastic about his topic. His voice is a mix of enthusiasm, excitement, curiosity, and confidence. How does this affect the way we as readers respond to the message?
11. Word choice. Not all readers regard this book as highly technical; in fact, they’re very divided on this issue. What do your students think? Remember that another hallmark of good informational writing (and an integral part of the Common Core Standards) is the writer’s ability to use the language of the territory with skill and grace—and to make readers comfortable with any terminology necessary to a discussion of the topic at hand. Perhaps Bryson is so good at this that we hardly notice how many technical terms he is using. To check it out, have a look at the Index (pp. 162ff.). How many terms listed here would be familiar and comfortable without the author’s help? Consider . . . alchemy, australopithecines, calderas, cryptozoa, Doppler shift, eukaryote, exosphere, foraminiferans, hadrosaur, KT extinction, Manson crater, nucleotides, Pangaea, plate tectonics, red-shift, riwoche . . . to name just a handful. See if your students can identify passages in which Bryson makes word meaning clear through direct definition or from context (the way the term is used).
12. Conventions. Let’s hear it for the bulleted list, bold print, and enlarged print! These elements, which may also be considered part of presentation, are clearly favored by the design editor. See if you can identify passages in which these or other design features make a difference in readability.
13. Argument. The Common Core Standards for argument place great weight upon evidence, proving (to the best of your ability) that your assertions are accurate. With this in mind, consider author Bill Bryson’s arguments for the age of the Earth—estimated (according to sources for this book) at about 4.5 billion years (p. 74). What evidence exists to support this estimate? Is that evidence clearly and thoroughly presented here? Are you and your students convinced? In answering this, look particularly closely at the following chapters: “So, here we are . . . “ (p. 38), “Finding Earth’s age” (p. 40), “Slow and steady does it” (p. 44), “Finding fossils” (p. 46), and “So, here we are . . . “ (p. 74). Given the evidence available, what is the best educated guess for the age of our planet? Write about this.
14. Argument. Some chapters of this book might be regarded as a bit scary—or at least troublesome. In one somewhat controversial chapter (“Yellowstone Park,” pp. 86-87), Bryson writes about the Yellowstone caldera, noting that the park is “full of unstable magma that could blow at any time” (p. 87). In others (pp. 90-94), we learn of the very real possibilities of Earth’s being hit by an asteroid (or indeed, more than one). Some readers feel that this information is too alarming to share with young readers. What do your students think? Is it questionable or important—even imperative—to include such information in a book intended for younger readers? Draft a short argument taking a position on this.
15. Ending. One requirement of the Common Core Standards for informational writing is a strong ending. Look carefully at the chapters “Humans take over,” “What now?” and “Goodbye.” What sort of ending does Bryson provide for his discussion of our cosmic history? What challenges does he present? On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong do your students think this ending is? Why?
16. Predictions. In two chapters, “Hot and cold” and “Chilly times” (pp. 142-145), Bryson suggests that the Earth has experienced alternating periods of extraordinary cold—and surprising tropical warmth. Where we are headed now is unknown, he says: “Only one thing is certain; we live on a knife edge.” Using information from this book or other sources, ask students to make an educated guess about where we might be headed.
17. Survival—and more predictions. Throughout Earth’s history, certain species have shown an extraordinary capacity for survival. Discuss this with students. What characteristics enable some species to sustain life when others go extinct? Which species have been the most successful? Do humans have the necessary characteristics to survive indefinitely here on Earth? (To extend your discussion of this topic, check out Joyce Sidman’s incredible book, Ubiquitous.)
18. Argument. Bryson’s ending to this book leaves us with an unmistakable challenge. He clearly states (p. 160) that if you were to put someone in charge of the cosmos, “you wouldn’t choose human beings for the job.” Citing evidence from this book and other sources, ask students to write an argument defending or rejecting this point of view. Consider research that goes beyond reading, perhaps interviewing someone like an astronaut, biologist, botanist, astronomer, anthropologist, or sociologist. Ask students to think creatively about when and how they assemble evidence to support their point of view.
19. Theme. This is clearly a science book, not a discussion of philosophy or religious perspective. Yet, throughout the book, Bryson refers to the “miracle of life.” From a scientific perspective, what does he mean by this? How does this theme influence the message and voice of the book?
20. Questions, questions, questions . . . Bryson opens his book with a suggestion that his research was an effort to answer questions that bugged him as he read other books—the ones he didn’t find all that exciting (p. 3)! What questions remain for your students at the end of this book? Brainstorm a list. Then ask students to identify one question as the focus for personal research (a major focus for Common Core informational writing standards). Remember to emphasize all forms of research—not just reading, but also interviews, site visits, personal experience, and so on.

Note: Other books by Bill Bryson include In a Sunburned Country, Made in America, At Home, Neither Here Nor There, A Walk in the Woods, and A Short History of Nearly Everything. Bryson is known for his in-depth research, meticulous attention to detail, unbridled curiosity, and almost unmatched ability to infuse even technical passages with voice.

Coming up on Gurus . . .

Did you know Julia Child fancied cats? Look for a review of Minette’s Feast, a delightful and unusual book you’re sure to enjoy. We’ll also be talking in coming weeks about the often underrated importance of narrative writing. And we’ll continue making connections to the Common Core as we go along. Please remember, for the BEST in workshops integrating traits, standards, literature, process, and workshop, phone us at 503-579-3034. See you next time, and bring friends! Give every child a voice . . .   

Down the Rabbit Hole Part II: Building Memories Day By Day

 Here’s where we left off (way back in March) at the end of Down the Rabbit Hole—Part I: Now, I’ve also heard teachers tell me this (“…to help students conceptualize the trait of ideas is to think of ideas as memories.”) is all great for students whose lives outside of school are filled with activities, friends, and meaningful interactions with parents. What about the students whose lives, at least in terms of experiences, happen mainly while they are at school?

These comments from teachers refer to those students who, no matter the amount or type of nurturing or stirring of, “the people, places, events, experiences, sights, sounds, tastes, and smells that we hold in our memories…” just don’t seem to have, be able to access, or even value any personal memories—“I don’t have anything to write about.” We’ve all heard this from students. Well, of course they have memories, but they may think theirs aren’t good enough for writing topics or for other students to care about. These students may think their ideas/memories have to be “front page news,” and they don’t view their experiences and thoughts as newsworthy to anyone, even to themselves. When writers are able to choose their own topics, based on personal experiences or memories, it is such an opportunity for them to discover and develop their own, individual writer’s voice. Why? Because what they are writing about, they have lived through first hand. I think it’s important then, to provide all students with a safety net of memories, an alternate history, a rabbit hole of shared events, literary experiences, people, stories, and conversations, that were/are a part of each student’s daily life, each day at school. As long as you have a captive audience, why not help them create and capture a rabbit hole of potential writing topics, accessible any time. Let me describe a bit about how I tried to build this class history and culture of memories in my own classrooms.

When I first started teaching, I realized that one of the toughest obstacles for me wasn’t mastering classroom management or planning focused, interesting lessons. Those didn’t come easily, but I had to deal with a bigger problem first. Clipboards. I didn’t have enough clipboards! My mentor teacher had loads of them, and I wanted to imitate her system. I needed clipboards for managing Writer’s Workshop, for individual students to be able to work on the go—standing up, exploring outside, moving to a classroom down the hall—and I needed some for my daily opening routine, something else I had learned from my mentor. Each day I tried to open with a routine designed to help students focus on the day at hand, to preview and set the tone for upcoming topics/events, and to honor and nurture our yesterdays. Each day of school, including the first day, I kept my clipboard (thanks to wonderful parent volunteers for providing me with a supply) with me and jotted notes down throughout the current day, to be used the next morning.

The column headings of my note page, seen on the (crudely crafted) sample, are just a few of the ideas you could use. The “Planting Seeds” column is where I would write down anything, from learning targets to television programs or book titles, that I wanted to preview/tease/tip/anticipate for my students. “SORAs” are pretty self-explanatory. This was a place to record specific moments/achievements that I wanted to give students a positive stroke for—academic, behavioral, interpersonal, motivational, etc.  In the middle column headed, “Let’s Remember,” went everything I wanted students to hear about a second time (or a third…). I could have called this one “Hey! Don’t Forget/Nag, Nag, Nag/You Really Need to Know This!” I remember writing down reminders about bringing lunches for field trips, walking in the halls, and even something about mathematical order of operations. The notes in the “From the Book” column were all about the reading we were doing in class. It could be based on a read-aloud—picture book, novel, article—or something students were reading for instruction. A note here might be about an author, illustrator, character, informational detail, comprehension focus, a connection to one or more of the 6-traits, or emphasizing the importance of reading like a writer. The last column, “Quotes/Words,” was the place I would write down interesting things I heard students say, a kind of quotable quotes section, along with new/interesting/important words that came up during the course of the day. Three of the five columns were connected to bulletin boards around the room. We kept a detailed calendar of birthdays, school events, due dates, etc. Many “Planting Seeds” items would then be recorded on the calendar. The “From the Book” column was connected to another bulletin board where key information about any book read aloud in class would be recorded. For picture books, we kept track of titles, authors, and illustrators. For novels (chapter books), we extended that to also include the names of main characters and a brief genre description. I also had a “Quotes/Words,” bulletin board to capture and display the spoken thoughts of students and a mini word wall for all the great words we had discovered.

I need to mention something that happened the first time I implemented this with my own group of students. Within a couple days, students began approaching me during the day to suggest things to include on my clipboard. In my first year of doing this, based on a student suggestion, I added another clipboard to the mix—a student clipboard, with the same headings. The suggestion was to rotate the clipboard to a different student each day, to make sure we were capturing all that was important and worthy of mentioning the next day, especially from the students’ point of view. This actually became one of my students’ favorite classroom “jobs.” We even coined a new phrase students would use to be sure an item was recorded. A student would just say, “Clipboard it!”

So let’s return to the original question– Now, I’ve also heard teachers tell me this (“…to help students conceptualize the trait of ideas is to think of ideas as memories.”) is all great for students whose lives outside of school are filled with activities, friends, and meaningful interactions with parents. What about the students whose lives, at least in terms of experiences, happen mainly while they are at school? All of this—the clipboards, bulletin boards, and daily routine—are about building a class history by honoring the learning, events, people, and stories of daily classroom life through conversations and displays that serve as review, reminder, and even rehearsal for writing. By keeping the day to day of classroom life alive, even the smallest things become  shared memories and  possible writing topics, with a built in support system. “Remember that day when Gino threw up on Mr. Hicks’ new brown shoes?” or “Remember when Alter Weiner, a Holocaust survivor, came to our school to talk with us about his life during World War II?” are stories that each student could tell from our shared experiences, and write about from an individual perspective. Our daily history became a wealth of possible writing topics—a resource for and a response to the student who says, “I don’t have anything to write about.”

Book Suggestions…

The books you choose to share with your students are important for many reasons, so choose purposefully. As I suggested above, keeping a literary history—titles, authors, illustrators, characters, topics, etc.—will help your students not only remember what they have heard or read, but also help them make connections between the books and their own lives, in and outside of school. There are many books that encourage readers, in both subtle and obvious ways, to notice the world around them, to look and interact closely, to appreciate and remember what they have experienced. Here are just a few titles to share with students to urge them to make memories and remind them that they do have many things to write about.

Zoom by Istvan Banyai

Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox, illustrated by Julie Vivas

Snail Trail by Ruth Brown

Something Beautiful by Sharon Dennis Wyeth, illustrated by Chris K. Soentpiet

Everybody Needs a Rock by Byrd Baylor, illustrated by Peter Parnall

If You Find A Rock by Peggy Christian, photographs by Barbara Hirsch Lember

If Rocks Could Sing: A Discovered Alphabet by Leslie McGuirk

The Seven Wonders of Sassafras Springs by Betty G. Birney, illustrated by Matt Phelan

The Treasure by Uri Shulevitz

(How about sharing some of the books you like to use in your classroom?)

Coming up on Gurus . . .

Within the next few weeks, we’ll be reviewing Bill Bryson’s A Really Short History of Nearly Everything—sounds pretty comprehensive, so you don’t want to miss it. And save some room for a sliver of Susanna Reich’s Minette’s Feast: the Delicious Story of Julia Child and Her Cat. Thanks for visiting. Come often—and bring friends. Remember, for the BEST workshops blending traits, common core, workshop, and writing process, please call 503-579-3034. Give every child a voice.

Building Narrative Skills (re Common Core) with a book to cherish

 

Inside Out and Back Again. 2011. Thanhha Lai. New York: HarperCollins. 260pp.

Genre: Free-verse novel done in the form of journal entries

Ages: Grade 4 and up. The reading level makes this text accessible for younger readers; however, the concepts are profound, making it equally appealing to older students or even adults.

Winner of the National Book Award

Summary

When is the last time you remember finishing a book and just hugging it for a moment? That was my response upon finishing Inside Out and Back Again, a deeply moving story of loss and recovery from poet extraordinaire Thanhha Lai. The book touched me in part, I think, because I recall so well that when I was ten, my parents decided to move to a bigger, newer house. I could not imagine what they could be thinking. This new “better” house was only ten miles from the tiny home I’d grown up in—but might as well have been a universe away. Leaving the old neighborhood, the horse farm, my room, and friends who couldn’t easily travel ten miles spelled nothing but heartache. That move, however, was an insignificant bump in the road compared to the experience of author Thanhha Lai and her protagonist Hà.

Ten-year-old Hà has grown up in Saigon, and in her head and heart live the sounds, sights, and smells that make that city home. Now the Vietnam War is encroaching, and Saigon is about to fall. Together with her mother and older brothers, Hà boards a ship that will take her away from danger—and immeasurably far from everything she knows and loves. Ultimately, the family is sponsored by the unforgettable “Cowboy” (so-called only because of his hat) in Alabama, and adjustments must be made all around. The Cowboy’s wife is less than proud of her new tenants, the children at school are insensitive and often cruel, the food is strange, and Hà’s father—and home—remain achingly out of reach. In an Author’s Note to the reader (p. 262), author Thanhha Lai, whose personal experience mirrors that of Hà, says, “I extend this idea to all: How much do we know about those around us?” That is the underlying question of the book.

Skillfully, gently, subtly, Lai reveals the face of prejudice. We see all too well, all too uncomfortably, how easy it is to judge others quickly, to overlook their less than obvious gifts, or to use humor as an excuse for bullying. You will cheer for Hà, who has so much to overcome: the loss of a home to which she may never return, the mystery surrounding her captured father, her struggles to learn a language (English) that seems to have no logic to it whatsoever (these entries provide welcome comic relief), and the merciless teasing from peers who seem both oblivious to her capabilities and contemptuous of her culture. Hà is a refreshingly quiet hero, yet one with an indomitable spirit. She doesn’t leap from buildings, face down fires and wild beasts, or best caricature villains with her immortal powers. Instead, she deals in her own brave way with the challenges and heartaches of life amidst a world of strangers.

Lai’s free verse poetry is seductively engaging. It begs to be read aloud. Her language is by turns mesmerizingly descriptive, heart-stoppingly blunt, and hilariously comic—in a slyly understated way. The characters, particularly Hà, her mother, and the wondrous Miss Washington (truly the fairy godmother of this book), are so vivid and well-drawn you feel you know them. Luckily, it’s a fast read because you’ll want to read it more than once. Buy two copies—that way, you can give one as a gift.

 In the Classroom

1. Reading. As always, you’ll want to preview the book prior to sharing. You’ll find the pages flying by, and may need to remind yourself to slow down so you don’t miss anything. If reading aloud is a regular part of your class routine, you can readily share the whole book, perhaps one part (there are four) at a time. Or—choose favorite sections for yourself. Do plan to share at least some of the book aloud to hear the rhythm of the beautiful free verse.

2. Background. Hà comes from Saigon, during the time of the Vietnam War. How many of your students know where Saigon is? You may wish to locate it on a map, together with the country of Vietnam. (How far did Hà travel to reach America?) Talk about how the country was once divided into North and South sections. You may also wish to discuss, briefly, details about the Vietnam War—particularly the fall of Saigon. Interested students may wish to do some research on the evacuation of South Vietnamese refugees, via Operation Frequent Wind or other means. (Some may be interested to discover the role played by Irving Berlin’s famous song “White Christmas” during this evacuation.)

3. Personal connection. Much of the book centers around the theme of moving to a new land, where customs, people, climate, clothing, language, food—everything, in short—is different. Spend a little time talking about the concept of “home.” What things connect us to the place we think of as home? (Consider something as small as Hà’s love for papayas, p. 21.) What does it mean to move—even a short distance? How many of your students have experienced some kind of move? What is exciting or wonderful about moving? What is difficult? Narrative writing: The story behind any move makes an outstanding narrative topic.

4. Topic. From the book’s dust jacket (inside back panel) we learn that Thanhha Lai herself, like her protagonist Hà, grew up in Vietnam, and later moved to Alabama, via ship, following the fall of Saigon. As you read through the book, occasionally reflect on which elements have the kind of authentic detail that suggests they were inspired by real life experience. How does the use of experience help to make virtually any writing stronger? (For more information on Lai or any favorite author, go to www.authortracker.com)

5. What’s in a name? Hà undergoes much teasing over her name (see “Sadder Laugh,” pp. 139ff.). Is this kind of teasing a form of bullying? (Take time to talk about the actual meaning of Hà’s name, pp. 5-7.) Have students write reflective pieces on their own names: origin and meaning, what they love, what they might change. Ask volunteers to share their writing aloud.

6. Persuasive writing/argument. Follow-up to point #5: As Americans, do we have an inclination to make fun of others for the sake of humor? Where do we see evidence of this? Argument: Is humor that comes at the expense of someone else’s feelings sometimes justified for the sake of a good joke—or even social commentary? Or is it misguided—even a form of verbal abuse? Ask students to respond to this issue, citing events in this or other books as well as examples from everyday life.

7. Character. Characters are defined, in part, by their motivations, or by the things they wish for. Read the chapter called “Birthday Wishes” (pp. 30-31) aloud. What do they tell about Hà? Are there things even her own family does not know about her? What makes this such a revealing chapter? Have students compose a “Birthday Wishes” free verse poem (or paragraph) of their own, sharing any personal wishes they feel comfortable revealing.

8. Setting/Sensory Detail. The Common Core Standards for Narrative emphasize that one of the best ways to create a sense of setting is through the use of sensory detail. Read the chapter titled “A Day Downtown” aloud (pp. 32-36). Either orally or in writing, list the sensory details that jump out: sights, sounds, smells, tastes, feelings. How vivid is Hà’s portrait of her downtown area? Does the author make us feel as if we’re right there in the marketplace? Have students create a similar sketch of any environment that has a distinctive memory for them. Ask them to begin by making a sensory chart, listing all the sights, sounds, etc. that they associate with the place—and then write. Creating a “cache” of sensory impressions first makes writing easier, and helps ensure that vital details are not forgotten. (Note: You will find many recipes for bánh cuốn—“rolled cake”—online. Students may enjoy looking these up, and even trying to make this traditional Vietnamese dish at home.)

9. Revealing character through situations. As the Common Core Standards for Narrative remind us, we learn about characters by seeing them in a variety of situations and noting the choices they make in those situations.  Following are just a handful of (many possible) chapters to discuss from this perspective, each of them revealing something important about the book’s main character, Hà: “Choice,” p. 55; “Last Respects,” pp. 85-86; “Loud Outside,” pp. 145-146; “An Engineer, a Chef, a Vet, and Not a Lawyer,” pp. 255-256. Whenever students write their own narratives, encourage them to put the main character (who is sometimes the author) in a situation that tests that character or offers an important choice. This lets the reader in on who that character really is.

10. Second language. Do any of your students speak English as a second language? How many know a language (or languages) in addition to English? Do you? Discuss some of the challenges involved in learning another language. What is most difficult? What kinds of things help? Share the chapters titled “First Rule,” “Second Rule,” “Third Rule,” “Fourth Rule” and “Spelling Rules” aloud (pp. 118, 123, 128, 135, and 177 respectively). What do these chapters reveal about Hà? About English? Argument: Have students write a short argument about why it is (or is not) important for anyone to learn a second language. What might we learn in addition to new words?

11. Evidence. In keeping with the Common Core Standards, we know that any good literary analysis relies on evidence from the text to support a position. With that in mind, have students write on any one of the following topics (or one of their own choosing), using specific quotations from the text to support their position:

• Which other character from the book ultimately has the most influence over Hà?
• Does Hà change in the course of the book—and if so, how?
• Who is the most moral character in this book?

12. Organization. The author uses several organizational structures in presenting this story. How many can your students identify? (Examples: chronological order via journal dates; dividing the book into four parts, based on major events and settings; dividing parts into chapters, based on smaller events)

13. Voice. Is the voice influenced by the fact that this novel is written in first person? If it were written in third person, would the voice be as strong? Why? Voice is sometimes described as the capability of text to touch readers. What does this book make your students feel? In responding to this question, you may wish to focus on a particularly emotional chapter, such as “Pancake Face,” pp. 196-197. Suggestion: Have students respond to this question in writing, citing specific chapters or events that touched them. If students have their own copies of the book, ask them to identify the quotation that moved them most. Close by asking volunteers to share their responses orally.

14. Irony. Even with war raging all around them, Hà’s family lives for a time (prior to fleeing Saigon) in a virtual Eden. What other examples of irony can your students identify in this book?

15. Fluency. This is a book that truly must be enjoyed aloud. Have students choose specific passages to “perform,” and use this experience to discuss the fluency of Lai’s powerful free verse. Is free verse a form your students like? Why?

16. Ending.  Strong narratives, according to the Common Core Standards, have endings that seem to follow logically from the sequence of events in the story. Is that the case here? Ask students to summarize what happens at the end of the story, and to comment on it. Is the ending satisfying and appropriate? Is it what they were expecting? What feels “right” about this ending? Would they change or add anything?

17. Predictions—and “voice collage.” Does Hà ever return to her home? What do your students think? Try this voice collage activity, a combination of role playing and writing. Imagine Hà’s world ten years from now. Have students, in small groups of 4 or 5, each assume one role from the book: Hà, her mother, Miss Washington, Vu Lee, the Cowboy, Pink Boy, etc. Ask each to write a journal entry from that character’s perspective about his or her life at that point. (This takes about ten minutes.) Divide the completed journal entries (at any point) into two parts: Part 1, Part 2. (Just put in a slash  to mark the division: /) Have groups read their entries aloud in readers’ theater fashion—all the Part 1s first, then around the circle again to hear all the Part 2s. The effects will be striking and dramatic. This is a painless form of literary analysis that asks students (almost without their realizing it) to look deep into character.

18. A word from the author. Follow author Thanhha Lai’s excellent advice from the Author’s Note at the end of this book: “I also hope after you finish this book that you sit close to someone you love and implore that person to tell and tell and tell their story” (p. 262). Have students do some personal research, interviewing anyone for whom moving was a traumatic or life changing experience, then writing up the results.

Coming up on Gurus . . .

Very shortly, look for part 2 of our Down the Rabbit Hole series. Within the next few weeks, we’ll be reviewing Bill Bryson’s A Really Short History of Nearly Everything—sounds pretty comprehensive, so you don’t want to miss it. Thanks for visiting. Come often—and bring friends. Remember, for the BEST workshops blending traits, common core, workshop, and writing process, please call 503-579-3034. Give every child a voice.