Tag Archive: 6 traits


Stand Up and Sing! Pete Seeger, Folk Music, and the Path to Justice by Susanna Reich. 2017. Illustrated by Adam Gustavson. New York: Bloomsbury.

Genre: Biographical picture book

Levels: Grades 4 and up, including adults (must reading for fans of Pete Seeger and folk music)

Features: Striking illustrations, Foreword by the one and only Peter Yarrow, moving Author’s Note on how this book came to be, outstanding and diverse source list that will encourage students to expand their own research beyond books 

 

Overview

Pete Seeger. His very name sends chills down the spine of anyone who was alive and singing in the 1960s. Especially someone who has memorized recordings by those Pete inspired—singers like Peter, Paul, and Mary, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, The Kingston Trio, and the Smothers Brothers, to name just a handful. Lyrics to songs like “If I Had a Hammer” or “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” are so deeply engraved in our consciousness it’s as if we were born knowing them. Even contemporary musicians owe a debt to this song writer and spokesperson for social justice. How do we thank someone like Pete Seeger, who so selflessly opened his heart to the world? With a book, of course.

Lucky for us, we don’t have to write it ourselves. Author Susanna Reich has done that for us, creating a beautiful, brilliant bio Pete himself would surely have loved. Reich’s rhythmic language brings Pete to life in a way that makes us feel we’re still part of his audience, clapping, stamping our feet, singing our hearts out. Reich tells Pete’s story from his days as a dancing, drumming toddler in the early 1920s right through to his unforgettable performance of “This Land Is Your Land” on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in 2009. Throughout, we see how this legendary musician’s beliefs and dreams were shaped by the events he witnessed—and oh, how much he saw to change.

Pete Seeger’s life of 94 years spanned several wars, the Great Depression, the Civil Rights Movement and changes in voting laws, and growing awareness of the threat pollution poses to the earth’s very existence. Almost miraculously, no matter the cause, no matter the location, there was Pete, right on the front lines, using his voice to generate passion and hope. Though he is often associated with the Vietnam protests of the 1960s (probably because singers of the time adapted and sang so much of his music), Pete’s legacy reaches back to far earlier days, and continues through the present. He began protesting for workers’ rights the first time he witnessed Depression era bread lines—and his boat, the Clearwater, sails the Hudson River even now, reminding us to keep our precious water clean.

As Reich shows us in her timely book, Seeger’s protests had a singularity about them. Though outraged by unfairness, Seeger was never violent. Instead, he emerges in this thoughtfully crafted bio as someone profoundly capable of optimism even in the face of humanity’s darkest moments. He was a leader of infinite charisma, gentle and peace loving, yet incredibly strong in his convictions. Seeger insisted on performing with African American friends despite prevalent racist views of the time, refused to betray other performers to the House Un-American Activities Committee, and stood fast when network television executives objected to his daring song lyrics criticizing then-President Lyndon Johnson. Always focused on the other guy, Pete gave little thought to his own welfare or safety. His gratification lay in following the path he’d determined was right. Though he lived much of his life in the most modest circumstances—sometimes unable to afford heat for his home—he wasn’t one to fuss about comforts. As Reich tells us, “Pete didn’t mind the cold. It felt good to be making a difference in the world.”

Adam Gustavson’s soft pastel illustrations harmonize beautifully with this portrait of a kind, selfless person, always ready with a smile, and nearly always singing or playing an instrument of one sort or another. In one of the book’s most memorable lines, a family friend is quoted as saying, “He played all night, and played all day, and after a while, you wanted to ship him off somewhere.” We can’t help laughing affectionately at this image of a man making his family crazy with nonstop singing. Now, in his silent wake, we find ourselves wishing him back.

Make no mistake. Not everyone loved Pete Seeger’s music. It wasn’t the continuous strumming of the banjo they minded; it was the lyrics. They were honest—and blunt. Champions of the status quo felt threatened—as Pete hoped they would—yet they were helpless to stop the tide. As Reich’s book shows so clearly, music has power to inspire and unify. People who heard Pete’s voice felt his unmistakable message to their very core. His songs became part of them, and part of America’s landscape and culture. Before long, followers were singing those songs in marches, at meetings, around campfires, and in their homes. One voice became the voice of millions. Even today, someone, somewhere, is almost surely singing one of Pete’s songs. As Peter Yarrow so perfectly expresses it in the Foreword, Pete’s “spirit travels beyond his time on earth.”

The title Stand Up and Sing! is more than a gentle reminder. It’s the author’s challenge to us all, especially in a time of discord, division, and unrest. Will we, like Pete Seeger, have the insight to recognize injustice when it’s right before our eyes—and the courage to make our voices heard? If so, then perhaps we shall, indeed, overcome.

In the Classroom

Sharing the book. The book is compact enough to share aloud in one or two readings. Use a document projector so students can linger over the telling illustrations. It’s also a terrific small-group choice for students interested in music (particularly folk music, guitar, or banjo) or in social justice and its history. In addition, the combined conciseness and completeness of the book make it an outstanding model for teaching students to write a good biography.

Background. Any discussion of Pete Seeger must begin with his music. If you’re lucky enough to have recordings available, play them. In addition, search for online video clips of Seeger singing to and with his audiences. Share some from recent times, and others from Pete’s early days to help students appreciate how long Pete kept the music going! Be sure to notice and discuss Seeger’s signature interaction with his audience, how he not only invites them to sing along, but coaxes them into doing it. Gradually, even the shyest, most reluctant singers in the crowd begin mouthing lyrics and clapping hands, swept up in the irresistible joy of the moment.

Foreword—and beyond. Students who have studied music in some capacity have likely heard of Pete Seeger. His death was very recent (January 27, 2014), and he performed at Barack Obama’s inauguration in 2009. In addition, his songs, both those he wrote and others he popularized, have been recorded by numerous artists, many of whom—like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, and Bruce Springstein—are extremely well known in their own right. Few students, however, are likely to know many details of Pete’s life beyond his singing and songwriting prowess.

Start by sharing the book’s engaging Foreword, written by Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul, and Mary). It’s a heartfelt tribute, coming from someone who not only appreciates the book’s message, but who knew Pete Seeger personally and has sung his music for years. Yarrow touches on highlights of Pete Seeger’s history, but . . .

. . . if you wish your students to have a broader, richer context for appreciating the book, here are some relevant topics they might research—perhaps in small teams of two or three—then  share with the class:

  • The labor movement (1940s and 1950s)
  • Civil Rights Movement (1950s and 1960s)
  • Anti-Vietnam War demonstrations (1960s)
  • Woodie Guthrie and Pete Seeger: the mentor and the legend
  • Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger: the electric guitar controversy
  • House Un-American Activities Committee
  • Blacklisting and the Hollywood 10
  • Charles Seeger, musicologist (Pete’s father)
  • Constance de Clyver Edson Seeger, concert violinist (Pete’s mother)
  • The Newport Folk Festival
  • “We Shall Overcome,” gospel turned folk and protest song
  • Awards received by Pete Seeger, including Induction into the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame, Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award, Kennedy Center Honor, National Medal of Arts, Induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Grammy for Best Traditional Folk Album of 2008, George Peabody Medal, Woodie Guthrie Prize, and many, many more.

“Everybody, sing it!” How does one begin a book about a legend? With a list of awards and accomplishments? His date of birth? Most memorable achievement?

Or perhaps—as Susanna Reich does here—with a scene that depicts the quintessential Pete Seeger. There he is, smiling, hands up, banjo at the ready, engaging the crowd. Asking them to sing along. Don’t know the words? Sorry, but at a Pete Seeger concert that’s no excuse. As I noted earlier, if you look up videos online, you will see Pete eagerly feeding words to the audience time and again. “This isn’t just my song,” he seems to be saying. “These are your lyrics—meant to be sung in your voice.”

What makes this image of Pete such a great lead for this particular book? Discuss this with students.

Are your writers working on a biographical piece currently? If so, have them consider a similar approach to writing a lead of their own. This calls for carefully, thoughtfully choosing a defining moment or activity that encapsulates a person’s identity and character. For Pete, becoming one with his audience is that moment.

 

Argument. Does music today have the same political clout that it had, say, during the anti-war marches of the 1960s? Can your students name any current songs they would label as “protest songs”? Or if not, can they name songs that inspire social justice or compel us to do what is right? Note: This can be a hard thing to come up with off the top of your head, so give students a day to investigate song titles and lyrics before delving too deeply into this discussion. Also, in case not all students have discovered this, it’s easy to look up song lyrics online. Just type in “lyrics to Little Boxes,” or whatever. (The results can surprise you. As I learned when I looked up “Rocket Man,” we don’t always “hear” what the composer wrote!)

Following your discussion, have students craft an argument supporting (or denying) the idea that music is a vital form of protest in today’s world. Advocates of social protest through music should be able to cite specific songs or quote lyrics that exemplify such protest.

 Organizational strategy: Letting go of trivia. In her Author’s Note, Susanna Reich admits, “In compressing Pete’s story into a picture book, there was much I had to leave out.” This revelation marks the perfect place to kick off instruction in organization.

Students often think the biggest challenge in writing nonfiction lies in coming up with enough to say. In truth, good research typically yields volumes of information. The real problem lies in deciding what to omit. Leaving some things on the cutting room floor makes it infinitely easier to organize what’s left.

Reich does a masterful job of choosing salient moments that reveal just who Pete Seeger is. After reading the entire book, go through a short segment, perhaps four to six pages, this time noting which stand-out moments from Seeger’s life made the cut.

For example, immediately following the opening page (which shows Seeger leading an audience in song), we learn how he loved music as a child and admired the “share everything” philosophy of Native American tribes. On the following page, we learned that Pete started his own newspaper, and cared more about a new banjo than sweaters and underwear. Talk with students about what these and similar details reveal about Pete as a person. Then have students imagine some of the details Reich might have left out. For example, she doesn’t tell us what Pete’s favorite food was, if he ever had a pet, or how well he did on spelling quizzes. Why? Because she had to make choices—and some details were more important than others.

As students write their own bio pieces (or any nonfiction, for that matter), encourage them to set priorities, ranking details from their research into three categories: (1) what’s critical, (2) what’s less essential but still fascinating enough to include if space permits, and finally, (3) what can go. Now they’re ready to put things in order!

Expanding research. Take a minute to share the list of “Selected Sources” at the back of the book. It shows that Susanna Reich investigated a wide range of sources in preparing to write Stand Up and Sing! Not just books, but films, taped interviews, and recordings. What sources do your students rely upon most when writing informational or other nonfiction pieces? Discuss possibilities and make a list that goes beyond the world of print, encouraging students to expand their fields of research.

Illustrations and voice. Seldom have I seen a book where illustrations so beautifully complemented the subject. Do your students agree? What is the overall tone of Adam Gustavson’s  illustrations? In other words, how do they make us feel, and what contributes to those feelings? Imagine this book with photographs rather than paintings of Pete Seeger. Would the book seem very different even if the text were unchanged? What makes these soft-hued illustrations such a good choice?

What words would your students use to describe the tone or voice of the text? Is it authoritative? Reverent? Joyful? Peaceful? Playful? Honest? Serious? Comical? Or something else?

Noticing the little things. Adam Gustavson’s illustrations are simple yet deceptively detailed. With each depiction of Pete Seeger, it’s almost as if we can get inside his thinking. We can sense when he’s troubled, and when he’s at peace. And if we take time to study his surroundings, they show us even more. Here’s one example . . .

Consider the illustration showing Pete Seeger shaving. Using a document projector, have students examine and respond to this picture. What do these visual details reveal about Pete’s life at this moment? As students continue looking, read the accompanying text aloud. Does it reinforce what you see in the image? What do the words tell us that we cannot get from the illustration—and vice versa?

What’s the big idea? The purpose of any biography, of course, is to share important elements of a person’s life. But why this person, and why now? Is Stand Up and Sing! of particular significance at this time when protests regarding so many issues are common throughout the world? What message or messages is the author hoping we take away from our reading of Pete Seeger’s biography? Have students write about this briefly, then meet in small groups to share and discuss their ideas. Once they’ve had a chance to share ideas in small groups, discuss the core messages of the book as a class.

Folk songs. Some people see Pete Seeger as a singer foremost, others as an activist who packaged his message in song. Either way, Pete is widely regarded as the king of folk music. But what exactly is folk music? Where does this term come from?

Discussion. Is the genre of folk music still alive today? What does it sound like? Ask students to search out some recordings of contemporary folk music and play them for the class. As part of their research, they are likely to discover that folk music has evolved into a wide range of sub-genres, including Celtic, neofolk, rogue folk, Americana, and many others. And of course it’s worth noting that many songs from the 1960s and even earlier are still being recorded in updated versions today.

Argument: The right choice? At one point in the narrative, Reich shares a critical moment in Pete’s life:

At college Pete couldn’t stop talking about workers’ strikes and unions, the civil war in Spain, and the Nazis in Germany. He talked so much that he didn’t do his homework. He lost his scholarship and had to drop out of school.

Losing a scholarship to Harvard is no small thing. Pete might have gone on to become a successful journalist—and what a different bio Reich would have had to write then!

On the other hand, when he left Harvard, Pete went to New York, where eventually he met blues singer Huddie Ledbetter, known as Lead Belly—and later Arlo Guthrie, with whom he would travel and perform across the U.S. Both had enormous influence on Seeger’s singing career. So the question is, Did Pete make the right choice? Is it the choice your students would make?

Discuss this, and have students craft an argument supporting or opposing Pete’s life changing decision to devote his time to music and social causes. Consider the ramifications of his traveling down one road versus the other.

Sentences that sing. The voice in any piece of writing is highly dependent upon sentence fluency. We don’t always think of this when reading for information, but author Susanna Reich is a master at crafting sentences. To better appreciate her skill and talent, slow down, read one or two pages aloud while showing them on a document projector, and ask students to notice some particulars that contribute to sentence fluency. They may mention highly varied sentence beginnings, variations in length, and a delightful mix of sentence styles—declarative sentences, exclamations, questions, effective fragments, and quotations.

Read-around: Learning to listen for fluency. Here’s something to try with small groups of three or four students each. Ask each group to select one short passage from the book; the amount of text on any given page is perfect. Ask them to read the passage aloud, round robin fashion, taking turns. Each reader can start and stop at any point—after one sentence, two, a whole paragraph, or whatever. But here’s the trick: Groups must continue reading for seven or eight minutes, long enough to go through the whole passage two or three times, perhaps reading a different section of text each time. Why? Because with each reading, fluency and inflection increase. Readers begin to really notice sentence beginnings, punctuation, word order and other factors that create drama. They become more adept at putting emphasis on the right words, using fluency to bring out meaning and voice. Like performers in a play, they uncover the power within the words they are uttering instead of mechanically reciting them. This is oral reading as it’s meant to be.

When groups finish rehearsing their passages, ask one or two to perform their selection for the class. Don’t be surprised if you have multiple volunteers! After listening, talk about the difference thoughtful oral reading makes. Is fluency especially important for this book? Why?

Research: Blacklisting. One powerful illustration in the book shows Pete sitting somewhere in a bus or train station, head resting on his hand, musical instruments unopened by his feet. If he appears forlorn, he has reason. His singing group, the Weavers, has just been blacklisted. Do your students know this term—blacklist? Have them do enough research to learn how the term originated and how common it was during the 1930s and 1940s.

The irony of it all.  Talk about why the Weavers—and others—were blacklisted. Their behaviors were considered unpatriotic or un-American. Do your students find this ironic? In other words, is the practice of blacklisting itself un-American? Why?

More questions for discussion. Is blacklisting still legal? And is it practiced in the U.S.? Have students write a personal response about how they view this practice. Note that when brought before the House Un-American Activities Committee, Pete Seeger refused to provide any information that would incriminate his friends. For this, he faced blacklisting himself, as well as potential jail time. How brave was this act of defiance? Would your students be this courageous in a similar situation? The answer makes a good topic for personal writing journals.

Freedom then—versus freedom now. One of Gustavson’s illustrations shows Pete Seeger singing in front of a television camera. In the text opposite, we learn that Seeger was invited to appear on television in 1967, for the first time in seventeen years. He sang “Waist Deep in the Big Muddy,” a song about a captain leading soldiers across a treacherous river, and eventually drowning. The song was believed to be a protest of Lyndon Johnson’s support for the Vietnam War, and it was cut from the show before it aired.

Crafting an argument. Compare this situation to the political and social climate in America today. Would that song likely be cut if performed now? How common is it to see or hear people criticize political figures, including a sitting president? Can such criticism ever go too far—or does this in fact make for a healthier social environment? Have students write an argument defending or opposing the kind of political free speech symbolized by protest songs like “Waist Deep in the Big Muddy.”

 

A “link in the chain.” In her Author’s Note at the end of the book, Susanna Reich says, “As I researched this book, I came to understand why Pete saw himself as a link in a chain.” After sharing both the book and the Author’s Note with students, ask them to comment on the significance of this remark. What did Seeger probably mean by this? Clearly the chain is a metaphor—but what does it represent?

Reich goes on to say, “This book is meant to be a link in that chain.” How can a book serve as a “link” in the kind of chain Seeger was talking about? Do we, as readers, play a role in making this happen?

What can we do? Pete Seeger was part of a legacy of peaceful protest often represented by people like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi. Like Pete Seeger, Dr. King and Mahatma Gandhi both believed there were ways to get their message of equality and justice across without resorting to violence. Have students write a short response piece suggesting specific peaceful ways we can keep the “chain” going in our everyday lives. Pete Seeger wrote and sang songs. Susanna Reich wrote a book. What more can we do?

About the Author . . .

Susanna Reich’s resume reads like a best-selling adventure story. She is an accomplished professional dancer, who has done graduate work in the ancient Hawaiian hula, and written about dance extensively, both for professional journals and in her 2005 book José! Born to Dance. She’s also been a professional flower arranger, designing flowers for Julia Child’s eightieth birthday and many other events of note. She’s even driven big trucks, something not many writers can brag about. But none of these accomplishments, she professes, has been as much fun as writing children’s books, something Susanna began doing in 1994. Awards and honors have rained upon her ever since.

Susanna’s first book, Clara Schumann, Piano Virtuoso, won an Orbis Pictus Honor from the National Council of Teachers of English, and was also an ALA Notable and Best Book for Young Adults, as well as a School Library Journal Best Book of the Year.

Recent books include Minette’s Feast: A Delicious Story of Julia Child and Her Cat (Abrams, 2012), about the bestselling chef’s first cat, a Parisian who lapped up Child’s leftovers but preferred mice. The book received starred reviews in School Library Journal, Kirkus, Booklist, and Shelf Awareness and was on the best-books-of-the-year list, CCBC Choices.

In 2015 Susanna published another picture book bio, Fab Four Friends: The Boys Who Became the Beatles (Christy Ottaviano Books/Henry Holt), which recounts the early years of the bestselling band in history.

Susanna’s newest release, Stand Up and Sing!, makes us eager to know what’s next on her list. To learn more about Susanna, watch a video of her discussing Minette’s Feast, or schedule a classroom visit, please visit her website: www.susannareich.com

 Coming Up on Gurus . . .

Gurus is taking a hiatus for Spring Break. Please watch for our return in May. Meanwhile, have a look at my current . . .

 Book Recommendation for Adult Readers

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari. 2015. New York: HarperCollins.

Author Yuval Noah Harari lectures at the Department of History, University of Jerusalem, holds a PhD in history from the University of Oxford, and specializes in world history. His 2015 book Sapiens is both fascinating and controversial.

Sapiens is described by numerous reviewers as “sweeping” in scope—a hilarious understatement. It spans more than thirteen billion years of history, from the Big Bang onward. Best of all, Harari will have you turning pages with a style that’s delightfully conversational and sometimes comic. I couldn’t put it down. Does it have voice? And how. The language is vivid and precise, the pace as fast as a roller coaster ride. I read numerous passages twice just for fun.

I particularly appreciated the small details inherent in many discussions—like this one on how we became a “race of cooks.” As you might expect, we owe much to fire:

The advent of cooking enabled humans to eat more kinds of food, to devote less time to eating, and to make do with smaller teeth and shorter intestines. Some scholars believe there is a direct link between the advent of cooking, the shortening of the intestinal track, and the growth of the human brain. Since long intestines and large brains are both massive energy consumers, it’s hard to have both.

So—big brains are connected to short intestines. Bet you didn’t see that one coming. I didn’t.

Overall, Sapiens is intended to show why our species, Homo sapiens, emerged as dominant. It covers the consequences of three decisive turning points in human history, the Cognitive, Agricultural, and Scientific Revolutions, posing provocative questions like these: Did these revolutions advance our quality of life—or create problems with which we still struggle? Are we happier than our ancestors, and what creates happiness anyway? Do we have a bright future—or any future, for that matter? Will artificial intelligence take over the world, leaving unemployed humans too much time to get into even more trouble? Are we getting smarter? And what makes us believe in the value of money, the rule of law, or the existence of nations?

Many passages ask readers to question fundamental beliefs about humanity, laws, rights, or religious faith. Some readers find this uncomfortable. I think that’s unfortunate. The book asks us to think—it doesn’t compel us to agree. When is the last time you agreed with everything in any nonfiction book? My recommendation is to get a copy for yourself and make up your own mind. Agree or not, you’ll definitely be entertained.

A sidebar: Get the hardcover version. It’s filled with color photos you won’t want to miss. Be warned, though: It is startlingly heavy, printed on gorgeous thick paper meant to last through multiple readings. Find a comfy chair. Don’t read this book in bed. I very much doubt anyone would fall asleep reading Sapiens, but if you did drop it on your head . . .

______________________________________________

Thank you for stopping by. Our goal is to feature writers who deserve recognition, so please tell friends about our posts—and peruse Gurus for past reviews you may have missed. Authors, if you’d like someone to review your book who will actually read it and spend time with it, please send a copy to me in care of Six Trait Gurus, POB 8000 PMB 8284, Sisters OR 97759. Until next time, please remember . . . Give every child a voice.

Photo courtesy of Lynn Woodward.

Insects: The Most Fun Bug Book Ever by Sneed B. Collard III. 2017. Watertown, MA: Charlesbridge.

Genre: Nonfiction science picture book

Levels: Grades 4 through 8, though adults will enjoy it too!

Features: Striking close-up photos, most by the author himself; expansive glossary; numerous sidebars that offer more detailed information for readers who want it; index.

 insects

Overview

“I dread the next one,” a friend told me—referring to her book club’s latest selection.

“Why?” I asked. Tiny print? Graphic violence? Saccharine romance?

“It’s nonfiction,” she groaned, making the universal face for FEEL MY PAIN. “Everyone knows nonfiction is sooooooo boooooring.”

I’d need a lot more o’s to capture her true inflection, but you get the idea. First off, let me say that if you find nonfiction boring, you’re reading the wrong books. And second, I have a cure: Sneed B. Collard III. I’m not sure Sneed is capable of writing a boring book (though perhaps he’s never tried). For one thing, he always knows his stuff, and knowing your topic is one secret to writing irresistible nonfiction. He’s got another nonfiction trick up his sleeve, though.

In a recent interview, Sneed had this to say: “My most important tool for writing nonfiction is an insatiable curiosity. Almost nothing pops up on PBS that doesn’t grab my attention: history, science, medical research, travel, baking shows—they all interest me.” (School Library Journal, September 20, 2016).

Curiosity is essential to good writing. We don’t always think about that when we teach writing, but we should—because curious writers seek answers to provocative questions like these:

  • How many insect species inhabit Earth?
  • What’s the most common insect on the planet?
  • Are there insect species yet to be discovered?
  • True or false: Insects dominate the world—and will likely be around after humans are gone.
  • Quick: Name three things no self-respecting cockroach will eat.
  • How do creatures so small defend themselves?
  • Can insects be bioluminescent?
  • Why is it so hard to swat a fly?

I confess I couldn’t answer any of these questions (well, maybe the one on cockroaches) before reading Sneed’s book. But I can ace this quiz now. Given that Insects (sans glossary and other back matter) runs only 45 pages, it contains a staggering amount of information—and like all good nonfiction, this book makes learning fun.

For one thing, it’s brilliantly illustrated with photos Collard took himself (with just a few exceptions). Most are close-ups that give us an insect’s-eye view of the ants, beetles, butterflies, caterpillars, bees, cockroaches, katydids, and other six-legged friends that surround us.

In addition, it has voice. The tone throughout the book is light, humorous, and engaging: “The abdomen, or hind part, of an insect is mostly used to store luggage. Or, more accurately, important insect anatomy” (13). That’s a favorite trick of Collard’s—tossing out a line just to see if we’re paying attention. Of course we are. Clearly, Sneed loves his topic, and wants us to enjoy it as much as he does. Readers need to be curious, too—and I am. Sneed feeds our curiosity with a continual banquet of intriguing details. I was truly fascinated to learn that the reason we have so much trouble swatting flies is not (as I’d assumed) that they’re outwitting us. They actually don’t see as clearly as we do, but they can detect motion far faster, making it frustratingly hard to sneak up on them.

What I love most about this book is how Collard challenges us to drag our mesmerized selves away from those electronic screens and do some firsthand research on insects, right in our own back yards. Or basements. Or any forest, meadow, lakefront, city park, or urban oasis. Unlike elephants and tigers, insects live pretty much everywhere on Earth. You don’t need to go on safari to find them. But you do need to be open to opportunities. As Sneed admits on his book jacket bio, “he’s never resisted the urge to sit down and watch a large colony of army ants march across his path.”

Why should we care about insects, though? Aren’t they just pests? Actually, insects rule. And not just in the slang sense. They outnumber us by an estimated 200 million to one. Think about that. What’s more, though we might detest the way they ruin picnics, devour sweaters and bedding, or spread disease, they also do many good things. Some pollinate plants we depend on for survival. Others eat disgusting matter we’d never touch if we didn’t have to—and what the heck would we do if they didn’t? And—“Here’s a humbling fact: without insects, most of Earth’s animals would starve” (28). We eat them ourselves. And before you get too snooty about food preferences, keep in mind that grasshoppers are low in fat and high in protein. Can you say the same for your lunch?

One more thing: You don’t have to be an insect enthusiast to devour this book. Sneed’s humor and enthusiasm make his topic captivating even for those of us who can barely think about insects without reaching for the repellant. When you look out the window, can you see grass? Trees? Earth? Flowers? Those aren’t just there for your enjoyment, my human friend. They’re all insect habitats. They’re alive. So ditch your phobia, open your mind, and come on an adventure into a world little appreciated.

insects-inside-photo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Classroom

Sharing the book. Though Insects: The Most Fun Bug Book Ever might be too long to share aloud in one reading, it’s conveniently divided into thirteen chapters that run about two to four short pages apiece. You can easily share one or two in a lesson, and you’ll definitely want a document projector so students can take in the alluring, informative illustrations. The book is also an excellent candidate for small group study—or as a beginning point for individual research on insects. (And by the way, nonfiction picture books make outstanding book club choices! Start a trend.)

Background. What do your students know about insects now? How much do you know? Before sharing the book, consider making two class lists: (1) Things we know for sure, and (2) Questions we have about insects. Check the “for sure” list against any new, expanded or contradictory findings you run across as you read the book. Also see how many of your questions are answered. Research answers to any questions that remain.

Insectophobia. As part of your background discussion, you’ll also want to discuss the 500-pound cockroach in the room, namely entomophobia or insectophobia. That is, extreme fear of insects. Many of us aren’t ready to embrace insects just yet, but genuine insectophobia goes much deeper. Fear or revulsion triggered by insects can be so strong that it actually keeps those who suffer indoors most of the time. Unfortunately for them, most insects view doors and screens as mere suggestions—and no doubt a horror movie is lurking there somewhere. Have your students known anyone who suffered from this condition? Though we may be tempted to joke about it, insectophobia is no laughing matter. It can be debilitating. By the way, some people are repulsed only by certain types of insects, and there are names for these conditions too. Apiphobia is fear of bees, myrmecophobia fear of ants, and lepidopterophobia fear of butterflies.

Feel like a snack? Here’s another related topic you may wish to discuss: insects as food. Have any of your students seen the old western film “Lonesome Dove”? If so, they might recall a scene where the character Woodrow Call enthusiastically chows down on what he thinks is candy—then violently spits it out when he learns it’s a grasshopper. Though you might sympathize, not everyone shares that reaction. As of 2016, there were just over 7.5 billion people on planet Earth, and an estimated 2 billion of them—more than one in four—eat insects routinely. Do your students find this surprising? Have any of them ever eaten an insect, or do they know anyone who has? On page 29, author Sneed Collard offers some commentary on the nutritional value of an insect-based diet versus the typical American diet many of us eat. You might share this sidebar as part of your background discussion to help students consider how much our culture influences what we eat—or consider repulsive.

Argument. Could Americans realize some advantages by including insects in our diet? Should we do this? Have students consider the advantages and disadvantages, then craft an argument for or against an insect-inclusive diet. Here are some factors to consider: nutritional value of insects, potential resistance by consumers, availability, sourcing costs, and consequences to humans, insects, and creatures that consume insects.

Nonfiction voice. As you’ll notice, particularly if you share the book aloud, Insects isn’t written in an encyclopedic voice. Anything but. As you go along, ask students for words that describe the author’s voice. Here’s a sample passage to illustrate what I mean:

With its antennae, an insect can detect movement, temperature, smell, sound, humidity, chemicals, and even which way its body is positioned. Antennae cannot pick up satellite TV or Wi-Fi, but still, don’t you wish you had a pair? (12)

To further appreciate the voice in this passage, look up “antenna” in any encyclopedia—or in Wikipedia. Read a few lines and contrast the voice you hear with Sneed Collard’s voice. What differences do you notice? How do those differences affect readers? As you read Insects, identify other passages where you and your students think the voice is particularly strong.

Discussion questions: Ask students to consider my friend who dreaded reading her book club’s nonfiction selection. Where does that sort of nonfiction phobia come from anyway? Have your students read nonfiction they would consider fairly voice-free? If so, when?

 Written response. No writers I know—including students—want to write something readers “dread” to pick up. But perhaps as educators, we unintentionally push them in that very direction. Do we encourage voice-free writing in reports or other nonfiction pieces students produce for school? Ask yourself what things we do to suppress voice, and discuss this with students. How could we encourage voice in nonfiction—or any writing? Ask students to draft a response to this, and have volunteers read their responses aloud.

 Illustrations from the insects’ perspective. In addition to being a published author, Sneed Collard is an experienced professional photographer, and he puts his talents to good use with this book. Discuss what the illustrations add. To understand their contribution fully, have your students imagine the book without any illustrations at all. What would be lost? Do pictures—particularly photos—contribute something words alone cannot provide?

img_5884-2

Suppose the photos in Sneed’s book were entered in a “Most Striking Photo” contest. Which one do your students think would win? Why?

 The core message. The purpose of Sneed’s book is clearly to teach us more about insects than the average person might know. But in addition to that purpose, is there a central message here? A belief or idea about insects that the author would like to consider as we close the cover? Once you finish reading Insects, ask students to discuss the core message with partners or in small groups, then share their conclusions with the class. List their responses and take a vote. Which response or responses come closest to capturing the book’s primary message? How did they reach that conclusion?

 Information by design. In analyzing any book we tend to think first of content. That’s only natural. But the way information is presented has tremendous impact on how easy it is to absorb. After reading Insects, page back through the book, using a document projector, and ask students to notice the layout—that is, how pages are designed. Have them look at the design as they might look at someone’s living room. Is the overall appearance inviting, luring you right in—or does it nudge you to find a more comfortable spot? Here are a few specifics you might prompt students to notice as they review the book’s design:

  • A good balance between text and illustrations, so we are not overwhelmed by either
  • Detailed captions for most photos
  • Plenty of white space (empty or open space), making the text easy to read
  • Engaging titles for each chapter, offering clues about content
  • Subheads within chapters to visually organize information
  • Sidebars—those green boxes that contain “behind the scenes” info for readers wanting more

Could your students use one or more of these elements in their own writing? Encourage them to think creatively about format in the next piece of nonfiction writing they produce for your class.

Discussion question: Should we stress presentation more in work done for school? Why?

Authentic language. One characteristic that distinguishes Sneed Collard’s books (not just this one, but all his nonfiction) is his ability to use scientific language with accuracy and ease. He is so skilled at making meaning clear from context that we’re scarcely aware of how much terminology we are internalizing. To help students gain an appreciation for this, try this lesson.

Let’s say you plan to share the first two chapters aloud. Before reading or discussing them with students, scan those pages for specialized vocabulary you feel readers should know to fully understand the message. Here are some words I might select from those early chapters (for younger students, this list might be shorter):

  • exoskeleton
  • chitin
  • antenna
  • thorax
  • abdomen
  • ommatidia
  • mandible
  • maxilla
  • labium
  • circulatory system
  • digestive system
  • respiratory system

Are you surprised by the number of terms listed here? Actually, I was. Though the book doesn’t feel “technical,” it’s richly strewn with terms students need to speak or write about insects confidently.

Once you’ve assembled your own list (which does not need to match mine), run through it with your class, asking students to briefly define each term. It’s OK to guess. If there’s a word they simply don’t know, such as ommatidia, leave that one blank for now. Then, as you read the chapter aloud, have students listen for any words they couldn’t define, or didn’t get quite right, and add or revise definitions based on what they learn from reading. As a final step, match students’ definitions with those in the author’s glossary on pages 46 and 47.

What’s your favorite genre? Many educators believe that nonfiction is supplanting fiction as the genre of choice among young people. Do you agree? What do your students think? Ask them to write a short argument defending their genre of choice. They should offer specific reasons and cite particular publications to defend their position.

Remind them that both fiction and nonfiction are big categories. They may want to narrow things down a bit. Nonfiction, for instance, includes not only science books but biographies and autobiographies, memoirs, history books, news articles, and other forms. Fiction can include adventure stories, fantasy, mysteries, and more. Once students finish writing, have volunteers read their arguments aloud as a prelude to a class discussion on genre and how tastes are evolving.

Note: For an interesting comparison-contrast extension, have students interview members of an older generation to see what their favorite genres and books might be. Have writers use results to create a generational contrast piece.

Curiosity—the key to topic selection. Author Sneed Collard identifies curiosity as one of his secrets to success as a nonfiction writer. As noted in the quotation from my Overview, Sneed takes an interest in virtually every kind of topic, from travel to cooking. What are your students curious about? Make a list. Oh, but wait: You first.

As your students look on, list three to five things that fascinate you, perhaps mentioning your reasons as you go. Here are just a few things I could be blissfully happy researching:

  • Discovery of new, Earth-like planets
  • Discovery of new octopus species—right in the San Francisco Bay!
  • The intelligence of crows
  • Why some whales actually seek human contact
  • New findings on benefits—and downsides—of homework
  • How worksheet overload is affecting preschoolers’ reading skills

Ask students to work with partners or in small groups of three or four to brainstorm lists of their own. Combine two or more suggestions from each group to form a class list—which students can then copy into their personal writing journals. Next time students need a good informational topic, this list will give them a source to check. Of course, students do not need to write about any of these topics—ever. But hearing one writer’s suggestions nearly always super-charges the imagination of another. That leads to good topic choice—which in turn leads to better writing.

Beetles or humans? Who will stick around? On page 7, the author tells us that since we have yet to identify all the insects on planet Earth, the actual number of species could be as high as thirty million. Talk about striking details! Here’s another surprise: At least 250,000 of those species are beetles. Why in the world would this be? Well, some scientists believe beetles have extraordinary “extinction resistance.” In other words, they can survive dramatic shifts in the environment. What about humans, though? Aren’t we pretty adaptable ourselves? Let’s talk about that . . .

Set up a debate: humans vs beetles—which species is more resistant to extinction? Form two teams to research this question, and let students choose which side to support. Just make sure you have at least a few debaters on each side! You may want to form debate teams of three or four to conduct research and plan a presentation.

Once you’ve given students time to assemble facts and form arguments, you can proceed in a couple of ways. Have one team from each side engage in an actual debate. Or give every team 5 to 6 minutes to present their argument. The rest of the class can score each presentation on a ten-point scale, based on two criteria: (1) How convincing is the team’s evidence? and (2) How compelling is the team’s argument?

 Personal research—and informational writing. Sneed Collard urges us to get outdoors (where most of the insects are) and do some research of our own. Reread the chapter titled “Learning More—The Final Molt,” page 44, and ask students to follow Sneed’s advice. Have them create an originally researched piece of writing on one insect that includes at least two components: text and an illustration. The illustration can be a photo, painting, sketch, or anything produced by the student him- or herself. The text might cover the habitat, behaviors, predators, or eating preferences of the chosen subject. (This needn’t be an “all about” paper; they can focus on one aspect of the insect’s life.) Have them document their personal observation with a record of time and place.

When you finish, create a class book of your results. Then talk about what students learned about the value of personal, hands-on research.

Note: For additional information on insects, look up the Amateur Entomologists’ Society: https://www.amentsoc.org/insects/what-bug-is-this/insects.html

sneed-portrait

About the Author . . .

Sneed B. Collard III is the author of more than 75 books for young people. His nonfiction titles include Pocket Babies and Other Amazing Marsupials, Teeth, Wings, Reign of the Sea Dragons, The Prairie Builders, The World Famous Miles City Bucking Horse Sale, and more recently, Hopping Ahead of Climate Change and Fire Birds—Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests (reviewed here on Gurus). Just last year, he released his memoir, Snakes, Alligators and Broken Hearts: Journeys of a Biologist’s Son (also reviewed on Gurus).fire-birds-cover

Sneed’s books have won numerous awards, including the AAAS/Subaru Science Books & Films Prize for Excellence in Science Books and the Green Earth Book Award. In 2006, Sneed received the prestigious Washington Post-Children’s Book Guild Nonfiction Award for his body of work.

In addition to his nonfiction titles, Sneed has written seven widely acclaimed novels, among them Flash Point, The Governor’s Dog Is Missing, and Dog 4491.

To learn more about Sneed, or to arrange a school or conference visit, please visit him at his website, www.sneedbcollardiii.com

 

Coming Up on Gurus . . .

Good news! Sneed and I just learned that our new book Teaching Nonfiction Revision: A Professional Writer Shares Strategies, Tips, and Lessons will be released by Heinemann on August 31. We think you’ll love it. Is it written with voice? Are you kidding? We chose our own topic! Is it driven by curiosity? And how! Will it help your students write better, stronger, more enticing nonfiction? You can bet your book club on it. Stand by for more information.

And in case you’re in a book club, and terrified that members would sooner drop out than read your next selection, check out my . . .

 on-trails2

Personal Book Recommendation for Adult Readers

On Trails: An Exploration by Robert Moor. 2016. New York: Simon & Schuster.

“It is impossible to fully appreciate the value of a trail until you have been forced to walk through the wilderness without one.” So begins a book like no other. It’s a history of trails that begins with the earliest forms of ocean life (ancient Ediacarans that are said to have gone extinct about 541 million years ago), and winds up in modern times along the dramatically expanding Appalachian Trail with a crusty old thru-hiker, Eberhart, who has given up every convenience imaginable save shoes to live unencumbered. In between, we follow trails of all kinds, including lost Cherokee footpaths, the trails of the savannah-making elephants, early roadways, deer tracks, pheromone-inspired ant trails, traces of food-seeking caterpillars—even explorations of the Internet. This book, an intoxicating mix of history, philosophy, science, and travel advice, offers many tips for navigating trails successfully, but most important, examines the nature of the trail itself.

How did trails begin anyway? With movement. Those primordial Ediacarans—inelegantly described by some scientists as “looking like a bag of mud”—inexplicably moved one day. We can’t say they decided to move because they were literally brainless. Decisions were beyond their reach. Moor describes the first traveling Ediacaran this way: “It shivered, swelled, reached forth, scrunched up, and in doing so, at an imperceptibly slow pace, began to move across the sea floor, leaving a trail behind it” (36). He could almost be describing a contemporary couch potato. And as this quotation shows, this incredibly intelligent book, filled with singular observations, is just plain fun to read. If you like your reading simultaneously, um, down to earth and deep, this is your book. Here’s what I mean . . .

“To put it as simply as possible,” Moor says, “a path is a way of making sense of the world” (14). So—life can be seen as an effort to create and then improve upon pathways. Ever hear or use the expression “cow path”? Maybe you think of it as some miles-from-civilization trail to nowhere, but in truth, cow paths can be indicators of a savvy instinct that any species needs to survive. Like many animals apparently, cows have a knack for finding the most efficient way to traverse any piece of ground. We’re often wise to follow their lead, and guess what. We do. Then we “improve” the old cow path by widening and paving it. But traces remain if you know how and where to look, whether you’re trailing buffalo, elephants, cows, sheep, snakes, or even ancestral sea creatures.

On Trails is a book so expansive in detail, and so rich in thought I cannot possibly sum it up in a few paragraphs. I urge you to get your own copy (hardcover because this is a book you’ll want to keep) and settle in for some enjoyable reading and reflection. You’ll learn more things than you can list, but here are just two that stuck with me.

First, it’s not so much the trailblazers that make the difference. It’s the followers. If you lean more toward follower than trailblazer yourself, take heart. Followers have more power than they realize. After all, they’re the ones left to make sense of all that information trailblazers leave behind, and then improve upon it. Think of them as the editors of the trail making world.

And second, trails teach us about ourselves even when we’re doing nothing more sophisticated than “staring at mud,” and perhaps this is why the allure of being on the trail is so irresistible. “Walking creates trails,” says Moor. “Trails, in turn, shape landscapes. And, over time, landscapes come to serve as archives of communal knowledge and symbolic meaning” (199). Writers who help us perceive connections we might not recognize on our own are rare treasures. Moor is such a writer.

______________________________________________

woodward-vickijeff3249aThank you for stopping by. We feature writers who deserve recognition, so come often, and tell friends about our posts. Keep sending me books to review: Six Trait Gurus, POB 8000 PMB 8284, Sisters OR 97759. My thanks to the wonderful writers who have done so already. Until next time, please remember . . . Give every child a voice.

vicki_jeff_small

Vicki Spandel and Jeff Hicks

Hey–are we talking to you?

Maybe you’re one of those people to whom the Common Core Standards for writing seem just second nature, almost intuitive. You’re not worried about upcoming assessments. Old ground, right? If that’s the case, this post is not meant for you.

If, on the other hand, you read through the writing standards and feel yourself glazing over, thinking, How on earth will I remember all this? Where do I begin? then this IS your post. Welcome!

 

A Caveat

We won’t try to touch on everything in the world of writing (which may come as a relief). Not even the standards themselves can begin to do that because writing is too big—by far. But climbing any mountain goes better if you can get a good toehold, and that’s what this post is meant to give you.

 

Two Things to Notice

If you haven’t done so, read through the writing standards (www.commoncorestandards.org), focusing on your own grade level. As you read, you’ll notice two things:

  1. The standards echo the 6 traits at almost every turn. Have you been teaching the 6 traits in your writing classroom? If so, you’ve already been teaching much of what is covered in the standards, especially with regard to the following traits: ideas (think CCSS detail and support), organization (think lead or introduction, transitions and coherence, ending or conclusion), word choice (think phrasing but also use of proper terminology), and conventions/presentation (think editing and publishing). And here’s the frosting on the cake: The standards also emphasize revision. Big time. In fact, we know that some portions of the upcoming writing assessments will require students to revise passages by rewording sentences, taking out unneeded sentences or words, rephrasing, and so on. This is incredibly good news for 6-trait fans because the 6 traits are all about revision. Every trait opens a writer’s eyes to new revision strategies: writing a new lead, adding detail, improving transitions, finding a better way to say it, being more concise, and so on. So, 6-trait teachers, you’re already a step up. You may also notice that . . .
  2. There’s a lot of redundancy in the CCSS as you move genre to genre. Initially, this may seem confusing, but it makes perfect sense once we remind ourselves that certain features—such as word choice—are important regardless of genre or purpose. Whether one is writing a story about a mouse who falls in love with a princess, a textbook on economics, or an argument supporting GMO labeling, words matter. The kind of language a writer uses shifts, of course, to suit the audience and purpose. As a teacher, you can use this overlap to your advantage. You can teach specific features of writing, helping students understand how those features shape themselves to meet the needs of audience, genre, and purpose—and you don’t need to teach them three times. You just need to show how they shift to suit the situation.

 

The Top 8

So then—just what are these overlapping features that are vital in narrative, informational writing, and argument? Here’s my version of the top 8:

  • Purpose & Audience
  • Introduction/Lead
  • Detail
  • Structure
  • Transitions (also called connections or connecting words)
  • Wording
  • Conclusions
  • Conventions

If your students can demonstrate strength across these 8 features, they can handle almost any writing assessment anyone can throw at them, whether the scoring criteria are based on the 6 traits, the Common Core Standards for writing, a combination of the two, or any criteria developed by a college, business, or other institution. That sounds like a mighty claim, but it isn’t. It’s just common sense. That’s because the 8 things listed here are just features of good writing, no more, no less. That’s what the standards are all about—good writing. It’s what the 6 traits are about, too. Let’s consider these features one by one. I’ll deal with 1 through 4 in this post—and 5 through 8 in the next.

 We Are Still Married

FEATURE 1: Purpose & Audience

One of my favorite writers, Garrison Keillor, wrote an article a few years ago on the art of letter writing. It’s one of my favorite pieces of writing ever. At one point, he tells us,

The toughest letter to crank out is one that’s meant to impress, as we all know from writing job applications; if it’s hard work to slip off a letter to a friend, maybe you’re trying too hard to be terrific. A letter is only a report to someone who already likes you for reasons other than your brilliance. Take it easy. (“How to Write a Letter” in We Are Still Married, 1989, 139).

To whom is Keillor most likely writing?

  1. Small children
  2. Law students
  3. Publishers
  4. People like you and me—especially shy people

This is an easy question, but a slightly tougher one is, How do we know? We know because good writing is always filled with clues about the writer’s intent. Phrases like “meant to impress” and “reasons other than your brilliance” tell us the audience is adult. At the same time, the casualness of “toughest letter to crank out” suggests an easy armchair chat, not a formal lecture or business letter. And why would a letter to a friend be “hard work”? Well, perhaps the writer is shy. I read this and say to myself, Me. You’re talking to me.

Good writers have a sense of audience and purpose. This isn’t the easiest thing to teach, partly because in school audience and purpose are defined for us: I’m writing to my teacher and my purpose is to fulfill the assignment. Pretending to write to a broader audience for an imagined purpose feels forced and artificial—but it’s important to widen our students’ horizons. One very real way to do just that is to read excerpts (about the length of the Keillor one) to students and to ask them, “Who’s the audience for this?” And also, “What’s the writer’s purpose?” At this point, students may well ask . . .

 

What kinds of purposes are there?

If you’ve never thought about this question before, it helps to have some hints. Begin with the fact that the CCSS for writing are divided into three umbrella genres: narrative, informational writing, and argument. Admittedly, there are many forms within each genre. Narrative, for example, could include travel literature, novels, picture books, journals, news stories, biographies, film scripts—and so forth. And each of these fulfills a slightly different purpose. In the spirit of this post, however, let’s keep things simple. Here are some suggested purposes that fit within each of the primary genres (you can probably add to my lists—and you should):

Narrative writing is meant to tell a story, explain what happened, share an experience, make a point (or points) about life, portray the human condition, define a character or slice of history, show how a problem was resolved, unveil a mystery, or entertain us.

Informational writing is meant to explain, teach, reveal findings, explore a topic, answer questions, offer assistance, provide key details, enlighten us, encourage further research, summarize discoveries or data, or help us understand the world.

Argument is meant to persuade us, help us think through multiple sides of an issue, urge action, encourage a new or modified perspective, search for truth, explain a particular point of view, compare positions, alert us to potential consequences, or guide us to a sound decision.

These genres are not mutually exclusive, though we sometimes teach them as if they were. Narrative, for example, can be educational. The humblest of mystery novels often teaches us more than we realize about police procedure or courtroom protocol. Seabiscuit is essentially a story about one of history’s most incredible race horses. But no one can read Seabiscuit without learning about life in the 1930s or the incredible hazards of being a jockey. Similarly, both informational writing and argument can be highly entertaining (Keillor’s expository piece on letter writing is a case in point), and both can and often do include narrative examples. Indeed, most good writing is a blend of multiple genres.

Just the same, helping students understand the central purposes behind these three primary genres gives them a vital perspective on both their own writing—and on the reading they do. You can teach this by sharing examples aloud or in writing. Take your examples from a wide range of genres: newspapers, cookbooks, travel brochures, novels, picture books, textbooks, encyclopedias, podcasts, wikis, and more. Here are just a handful to give you an idea—note that I have not included the source with the sample. That would make things too easy. (I will tell you later.) As you read each one, ask yourself, What is the author’s purpose? Is this narrative, informational writing, or argument? And, Who is the author’s intended audience?

Example 1

Reading [Pennsylvania] began to go through a precipitous decline in the 1970s, which began with the collapse of the railroad. In the mid-‘80s, several key factors in manufacturing began to falter. In the 1990s and early 2000s, in the wake of the North America Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), the steel and textile industries began to significantly erode and jobs were sent overseas.

Example 2

It is a way of living that infuses you with health and energy, so you can feel great, look your best and do everything you’ve always wanted to do. It’s a way of eating that treats meals as celebrations, that encourages you to indulge in the healthy pleasures of delicious, super-flavorful foods. It’s a way to lose weight quickly and permanently while, perhaps for the first time in your life, you will truly cherish your meals.

Example 3

The funny way I talk is not so much like fat pigs in cartoons as I just get stuck on a sound and try to push the word out. Sometimes it comes out after a little pushing but other times I turn red in the face and lose my breath and get dizzy circles going around in my head.

Did you have a definite—and different—impression for each one? That’s how you want your students to feel. After you discuss samples with them, reveal the sources so they can compare their thinking to each author’s actual intent.

Example 1 is aimed at an adult audience: play goers, in particular. It comes from an interview with the playwright Lynn Nottage in Prologue, a magazine published by the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. The purpose of the interview was to help set the background for Nottage’s play “Sweat,” a story that portrays the decline of American manufacturing, and its impact on American citizens. This excerpt is largely informational (though an underlying purpose is also to persuade people to buy a ticket!).

Example 2 is from The New Sonoma Diet by Dr. Connie Guttersen (2010, 2). This is certainly aimed at adults, particularly those who wish to lose weight. As a fan of the book, I can tell you it’s highly entertaining—but clearly this piece is part of an argument, one that runs the whole course of the book: This diet works. How do we recognize this as persuasive writing, though? Again, look for the clues. First, it makes claims—you’ll look and feel great. You’ll enjoy food more than ever. But note the language—words like infuses, celebrations, indulge, pleasures, super-flavorful, cherish. These are emotional, feel-good words. They’re meant to make you feel that this way of eating is enjoyable—heck, it’s like being at a party! Did they work? Regardless, the real question is, Would your students recognize this as persuasive writing?

Example 3 is from the very moving young adult novel Paperboy by Vince Vawter (2013, 1). The hero of this story is eleven, so we might imagine the book aimed at students about eight to twelve, though it holds much appeal even for adults. And although it is primarily a narrative, we do learn (beginning with this early passage) a great deal about coping with stuttering. Again, the question is, How do we know this is narrative writing—versus, say, a passage from a medical book? It’s personal, intimate, revealing. Instead of data and medical terminology, we have expressions like “fat pigs in cartoons” and “stuck on a sound.”

Examples like these should sound very different to your students, and evoke very different responses. Share one or two each day and talk about how you know the purpose—and the audience. What are the clues? Is it the tone? Wording? Content? As your students write, ask them to think about purpose and audience. How do they shape or modify things like language, content, or voice to suit the audience—and the purpose for writing?

charlotte's web

FEATURE 2: Leads

Of all the things we write, in all the forms we write, nothing is more important than a strong lead. As the name suggests, a lead pulls us into a piece of writing. But it does so much more. It lays the groundwork for what will come, sometimes giving us background, sometimes raising questions we cannot wait to have answered: “There is no lake at Camp Green Lake” (from Holes by Louis Sachar, 2000). No lake? Why on earth not?

Leads can be ominous. They can instill a sense of dread: “My eyes were closed in prayer when the trucks pulled up. I heard them before I saw them” (from Running for My Life by Lopez Lamong, 2012, 1).

It’s said that E. B. White wrote several leads before crafting the world renowned masterpiece that would rival Hitchcock for suspense: “’Where’s Papa going with that ax?’ said Fern to her mother, as they were setting the table for breakfast” (Charlotte’s Web, 1952).

Quest for the Tree Kangaroo

Leads can also create a sense of enchantment—like this one that provides the setting for an informational text on tree kangaroos:

It feels like we’ve walked into a living fairy tale. Our heads are literally in the clouds. Though we’re just a few degrees south of the equator, we are bathed in cool mist. We’re 10,000 feet up in the mountains. Here the trees are cloaked in clouds. The ground is carpeted with thick green moss. In the cloud forest of Papua New Guinea, ferns grow into trees—trees like those the dinosaurs knew. Moss and ferns, vines and orchids, hang from branches like the beards of wise old wizards. (Quest for the Tree Kangaroo by Sy Montgomery, 2006, 7).

Reading this, I feel my heart rate slow. It’s not just about setting, I realize. It’s about mood.

A good narrative lead may give us a hint about the plot—like this one from Edgar Allan Poe: “The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge” (from “The Cask of Amontillado”). We can’t shake the sense of dread Poe instills with words like thousand injuries, borne, ventured upon insult, vowed revenge. This is not going to end well. And we can’t turn the pages fast enough.

An informational lead tells us just enough about the topic to make us want more—and may also suggest a theme that will give the whole piece coherence: “Over the years, I learned that rats and humans have much in common” (from Oh, Rats! by Albert Marrin, 2006, 7). The notion of a connection between rats and humans is intriguing and repulsive at the same time. Either way, it gives me a kind of hook on which to hang all the other details Marrin will share in this book.

An argumentative lead sets up an issue—and if it’s done well, it can get us intellectually and emotionally hooked: “Most stories about the destruction of a planet involve a villain with an evil plot. But this is the story of how the earth could be destroyed by well-meaning people who fail to solve a problem simply because their calculations are wrong” (from World Without Fish by Mark Kurlansky, 2011, xi).

World without Fish

It’s easy to get the idea that good leads are one-line zingers. They can be. But some leads (like that by Sy Montgomery) can run several sentences. They can even run several paragraphs—or more. Which brings me to an important point. Teach your students to develop an ear for leads by asking, “Where do you hear (or feel) the lead end?” The discussions generated by this question are fascinating. And to illustrate, let me share the next few sentences of Kurlansky’s lead—which is, I think, one of the best in the world of persuasive writing:

Most of the fish we commonly eat, most of the fish we know, could be gone in the next fifty years. This includes salmon, tuna, cod, swordfish, and anchovies. If this happens, many other fish that depend on these fish will also be in trouble. So will seabirds that eat fish, such as seagulls and cormorants. So will mammals that eat fish, such as whales, porpoises, and seals. And insects that depend on seabirds, such as beetles and lizards. Slowly—or maybe not so slowly—in less time than the several billion years it took to create it—life on planet Earth could completely unravel. (Kurlansky, xi)

This is, in its own way, as chilling as anything out of Poe. And surely it compels us to at least hear the man out.

Teaching Leads

Here are five things you can do to teach your students to write effective leads:

  1. Model. Choose a topic and in front of your students, write several leads you might use to begin. Don’t worry about making a Pulitzer worthy effort. Just write what comes to you. Let it flow. Draft at least three possibilities (any of which can be revised later). Then, ask students to pick their favorite and tell you why.
  2. Have students write multiple leads. Take a tip from E. B. White, and ask students to write more than one lead for a given piece and to share them in small groups, asking peers for their responses. Discuss the process. What did everyone learn from this? Is the final lead usually the best one?
  3. Read favorites aloud. Collect leads and share them aloud with students. Be sure to pull leads from multiple genres—not just mystery novels or picture books (though they’re often my favorites, too). Post these so that students can re-read them and think about them.
  4. Ask students to do the searching. Have students track down their own favorites by browsing through literature—as well as newspapers, periodicals, business writing, or the web.
  5. Revise. Find a lead you don’t like so much (or make one up—e.g., Grizzly bears are among the largest land animals . . . In this paper, I will explain why eating organic food is so important . . . ) and ask students to revise it, working in pairs. Post the top three revisions.

Saving the Ghose if the Mountain

FEATURE 3: Detail

Teachers have a long-standing tradition of writing “Tell me more!” in the margins of their students’ work. Unfortunately, students often do not have the slightest idea what this means. “I told you everything already!” is a typical response. What do we teachers want, anyhow? Detail! That’s what! So—what is that? It’s the difference between “Camels are amazing!” and this:

It can drink salt water, or go for seven months without drinking at all. Then it can drink up to one quarter of its 1,200-pound weight at a time—twenty-seven gallons. (That would be like you drinking fifty-six cartons of milk!) It can carry 100 pounds of cargo up to thirty miles a day. It can swim, it can wrestle, and it can outrun a horse. (Sy Montgomery in Saving the Ghost of the Mountain, 2009, 45)

Detail takes many forms—facts, anecdotes, description, quotations, explanations, and more. In narrative writing, sensory detail (sights, sounds, smells, feelings, tastes) may be used to enhance a setting, as in this passage (the original lead, by the way) from Charlotte’s Web:

The barn was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows . . . It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope. And whenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat, the barn would smell of fish. But mostly it smelled of hay, for there was always hay in the great loft up overhead. (E. B. White, 1952, 13)

I cannot read this without wishing myself right there in the barn. That’s good description.

Harris and Me

In his hilarious autobiography Harris and Me, Gary Paulsen uses sensory detail to introduce us to a most distinctive character—Louie, the hired hand on a farm where Gary will spend the summer. Though this passage is more visual than White’s, it too evokes a potpourri of smells:

At the end of the table sat an old man in a wool coat—though it was summer and hot in the kitchen from the wood stove on which the pancakes were cooking—a man so incredibly dirty that it was hard to find a patch of skin on his face or neck not covered with soil or grease. He wore a matted beard—stuck with bits of dirt and sawdust and what looked like (and I found later to be) dried manure and dribbled spit and tobacco juice. All this around two piercingly blue gun-barrel eyes and a toothless mouth. . . . . Louie. (1993, 14-15)

Students sometimes think that “sensory detail” means including sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings, a veritable carnival of impressions. This approach is overwhelming. Sensory detail works best when writers focus on one or two senses at a time. We don’t need to breathe in the scent of the pickles and hot dogs as we taste the sweetness of the lemonade while basking in the warmth of the sun and feeling the roughness of the picnic table as we listen to the distant rock music and gleeful shouts of children all the while watching the fluffy clouds and swaying tree tops. Stop it.

In informational writing or argument, description often plays a key role. But within these genres, detail must also include examples (as in the previous passage on camels) and support. As they read, readers are constantly searching for new information (something they didn’t know already) and assessing the validity of the writer’s claims. Without detail, information dissolves into generalities, and arguments deflate.

The Animal Dialogues

My litmus test for good informational detail is pretty simple: Do I learn anything from the passage? Here’s a short example from Craig Childs’ essay on the praying mantis:

A Choeradodis mantid is hooded like a cobra, its mantle green, veined, and shiny like a leaf so it will not be distinguishable by those who might prey on it—the mantle also prevents a bird or reptile from being attracted by suspicious movements as this mantid consumes its prey. Central American Acanthops looks like roughened bark and dry leaves, the macelike head sharply pointed, the eyes formed into spikes. They kill whatever they can. Females are well known for twisting around and devouring males in the middle of copulation. A male missing its head and eaten down to the abdomen will continue insemination unfazed, its nerve trunk still delivering the last message sent by its lost speck of a brain. (The Animal Dialogues, 2007, 238-239)

Well, now. If you didn’t learn anything from that passage, you’ve spent a lot more time studying praying mantises than I.

Argument must also be informative. But in addition, it has to be convincing. Argument depends on evidence, a very special kind of detail that demands firsthand knowledge, meticulous observation, and often, research as well. Our Planet by the MySpace community (and Jeca Taudte) is essentially an argument in favor of making little everyday changes in our lives to combat global warming—things like carrying your own bags to the grocery store or sending e-cards. The book begins with an argument supporting the realities and dangers of global warming. Note the sense of urgency in the following text—one thing that differentiates it from purely informational writing:

Today, as the scientific case for global climate change grows, the facts don’t lie:

  • Since 1979 more than one-fifth of the polar ice cap has melted.
  • Eleven of the twelve warmest years on record were from 1995 to 2006.
  • The number of large wildfires in the western United States has quadrupled in the last 35 years as the average “fire season” has grown two months longer.

The authors go on to tell us that by the end of this century, global sea levels could rise by three feet, and up to one quarter of all existing species could be at risk for extinction if temperatures rise as little as 4.5 degrees (2008, 4).

Our Planet

Is this enough support to make for a strong argument? It’s compelling because the information is specific and detailed. Facts are cited. But we need to know where the information came from. The sources for this data (The Climate Group, The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, NASA’s Earth Observatory, the Natural Resources Defense Council, and more) are listed in the bibliography. They’re just not connected, fact by fact, directly to the discussion. Likely the CCSS writers would prefer they were. Nevertheless, knowing that the information is drawn from credible sources makes it far more convincing.

 

Teaching Detail

Here are six things you can do to teach your students to use detail wisely and well:

  1. Explore the nature of detail. As noted earlier, detail comes in many forms, from charts and graphs to descriptions, quotations or explanations. Begin by brainstorming a list. See how many kinds of detail you can name right out of your heads. Then follow up by searching through writing samples for as many different kinds of examples as you can find. This exercise helps students know what is meant by the comment “Tell me more!”
  2. Branch out! Students often have experience using descriptive detail, but are reluctant or unprepared to use such forms as quotations, facts, examples, and so on. Here’s an excerpt from a student’s argument on violence in films: “Films today are filled with brutality and blood spilling. People die every few minutes—or are horribly maimed or tortured.” The writer offers no detail to back this up. Ask students how a quotation, fact, or example could make this claim more convincing. Can they come up with one possibility of each?
  3. Discuss the importance of evidence. Proof is the queen of detail. It shows, more than any other form of detail, that the writer knows what he/she is talking about. And it is the sine qua non of argument. No evidence? No argument. What constitutes evidence, though? Essentially, it’s provable information. Provable through documentation, firsthand experience or research, or the testimony of experts. In writing an argument, it’s not a bad idea to picture yourself as a defense attorney representing your special client: the truth of your claim.
  4. Become observers. Evidence may come from research—but descriptive detail comes primarily from being a good observer of the world. So practice this. Have students describe something within your classroom, school, or campus. Encourage reflection, extended observation, note taking. See who can notice the most—and capture it on paper. Got something interesting or exotic—say, a rat, hamster, or terrarium—to use as a subject? Splendid! If not, you can write about your shoe, your hand, the view out the window—anything. One kindergarten/first grade teacher I knew invited new moms to visit with their babies. Students wrote expensively and in elaborate detail about their small visitors.
  5. Revise. Imagine if the Craig Childs passage on the praying mantis had been written this way: “The praying mantis is a colorful insect. It can blend into its surroundings. It often kills other insects.” Begin with a passage like this one (on any topic with which your students are familiar—or one they can readily research) and ask students to expand it through detail.
  6. Collect and post favorites. When you come across a passage in which the detail captures your imagination, save it and share it with students. Tell them what you like about it. Author Gary Provost talks about once buying a book because of a single line in which the writer referred to an “alcoholic bull-dog” rather than simply an “alcoholic dog” (100 Ways to Improve Your Writing, 1985, 79). The specific detail convinced Provost that the writer had actually seen the dog. That gave the book authenticity, he said. Detail is powerful.

FEATURE 4: Structure

Hemingway once famously said that “prose is architecture.” No wonder organization is so tough to master. If you think about it, it’s a lot easier to choose a paint color than to build the house in the first place.

What is structure anyway? It’s the skeleton, the framework, the blueprint, the map—or choose your own metaphor. It’s the famous “middle” we tell students about but almost never describe. It’s that mysterious something that takes us from lead to conclusion. And it needs to be well-constructed or readers won’t be able to follow the story, discussion, or argument.

Here are some generic structures—just intended to help you think about the concept of “structure” in more productive ways than “the middle” or “the skeleton.” These are NOT intended as formulas because every piece of writing (except those that follow a boilerplate) has, and needs to have, its own design. They’re simply possibilities:

Main Point or Argument & Support

This is a good method of organizing an informational piece or an argument where one primary idea, point, or position is the focus.

Revealing the Solution

This design works well when there is a mystery to unravel or question to solve.  Clues or bits of evidence lead up to a conclusion. Though it’s often used in narrative writing, research can also reveal “mysteries,” so this is an effective organizational structure for sharing new or startling information.

Comparison and Contrast

Here’s an excellent method of organizing information when you wish to show how things are alike or different: e.g., How much like humans are gorillas? You can present similarities first—then differences. Or, decide which is more important (similarities or differences) and lead up to that—like a punchline. Comparison/contrast is useful in both informational writing and argument.

Question and Answer

If you have a lot of information, but no one point is more important than the others, it may be useful to simply pose five or six key questions (or more) and answer them systematically. This design is useful for both informational writing and argument.

Grouping

Sometimes—as in Gary Provost’s 100 Ways to Improve Your Writing—an author doesn’t have three or four points to make. He has 100. In that case, it helps to group details, putting those that fit together into one section or chapter. In Gary’s case, for example, he has a chapter on overcoming writer’s block, another on writing strong leads, one on 12 ways to improve style, another on 11 ways to make people like your writing, and so on. Grouping is enhanced with the use of sub-headings.

Step by Step

This is a viable organizational pattern for informational pieces that show how to do something: How to ski, how to housebreak a puppy, etc. It can also be useful in arguments showing how events led up to (or could lead to) a particular outcome—desirable or not.

Chronological Order

Histories and other stories are often organized in this simple pattern of what happened first, next, after that, and so on. Chronological order doesn’t always flow to A to Z, though. Writers sometimes play with time, beginning at the end, using previews or flashbacks, or moving across major expanses of time.

Visual Patterns

In visual organization, the writer may begin with a large overall impression and proceed to small details, or start with a close-up (food on the plate, a dead body) and expand outward. This approach is useful in any writing (any genre) where a visual impression is significant (the setting for To Kill a Mockingbird or Carl Sagan’s description of the Cosmos).

Point and Counterpoint

An argument is far more convincing when both sides (or multiple sides, for that matter) of an argument are presented.

Recurring Theme

Recurring events—wars, floods, economic challenges, presidents, major films—sometimes offer a common thread that binds together various periods of time.  In My Life in Dog Years, Gary Paulsen recounts periods in his life corresponding to dogs he has owned and loved.

OK, so can we just teach these patterns? No! Let me say that again. NO! That doesn’t work—at all. Being aware of various patterns is helpful, yes. If you were going to design your own house, looking through a book of blueprints would be enormously helpful because it would acquaint you with possibilities. But you’d still want to come up with your own design. And that’s the way people write, too. Further, design needs to flow out of ideas—not the other way around. This is one reason (one of many) that the infamous 5-paragraph essay is so hopelessly inadequate. I used to call it Jell-O organization because you begin with the mold and pour in the contents to fit. Works quite well with Jell-O, but is less successful with writing.

Planning Your Writing

How do design and idea work together then? Shouldn’t writers plan at all? Sure. You just don’t want to get locked in with outlines or other rigid forms. Do a sketch, make a list, make a T-chart (comparison list), or have in mind a general organizational design you will follow. Just don’t get too attached to it. Always start with an idea—and in particular, with a question to answer: e.g., How can we simplify the CCSS for writing teachers? Let your central idea drive the design. Organization is organic, and grows, shrinks, or reshapes itself to fit the message. I plan by listing my main points, and that list becomes my first draft. The beauty of lists lies in their simplicity; you can add or delete, move things around, combine elements—whatever. Here’s another tip: Write a draft lead as soon as you finish your first list—but don’t revise it until after you’ve finished the piece. By then the process of writing will have worked its magic and reshaped your thinking, and you’ll know better how to orient your readers.

Moonshot

Drama: A Different Organizational Design

Moonshot by Brian Floca (2009) is so beautifully written and illustrated you can pour over it for hours—whether you’re eight or eighty-eight. What struck me on the first reading (in addition to the brilliant illustrations) was the voice, word choice, and sentence fluency. The rhythm and sound are lyrical. Almost poetic. I didn’t even think about the organization until I was looking for it (good organization is never obvious)—and then it hit me. It’s ingenious. It doesn’t hammer home three key points and it isn’t divided into chapters or sections. It’s a drama—and it’s centered around three dangerous events: launching Apollo 11 into space, landing on the moon, and returning to Earth. Three acts—like a play. It’s much more than an adventure story, though. It’s an informational masterpiece with story as its organizational framework. If you want a lesson on combining genres, here it is.

Here is the general flow of the book, seen through a dramatic lens:

Act 1

This act sets the stage for all that will follow, and without ever weighting down the text, Floca manages to provide us with expansive information. The book opens with a view of the moon, the mysterious, alluring destination. Then Floca introduces us to the astronauts, to Apollo itself (we see it’s 30 stories tall!) and to Launch Control in Houston. The drama begins with the countdown!

Act 2

This act is all about action—countdown, liftoff, landing. First, Americans throughout the country watch, holding their breath. From inside Apollo, the astronauts feel the ZERO moment approach. Then . . . Apollo is launched. We are in space—verbally, and graphically. During the book’s only quiet moment, we sneak a peek inside Apollo where astronauts struggle with life sans gravity. How do they eat, sleep, use the toilet? Throughout, Floca continues the contrast between life in the spacecraft and life back on Earth, especially for astronauts’ families. Drama builds with a huge close-up of the moon and a search for the landing spot. Then, they’re on the surface! And in a stunning moment . . . Earth, distant, beautiful, far away, as the moon once was.

Act 3

In Act 3, the action winds down as the astronauts return. To color, light, sound, air, safety, all that is familiar. This final act moves quickly, but the tension is sustained, for nothing is sure until they are truly home.

 

PITFALLS That Undermine Organization

Floca masterfully avoids common pitfalls of organization, and that’s why I chose his remarkable book as an example. Here are some pitfalls to look out for when organizing any text:

  •   Pitfall 1: Beginning in the wrong spot. Floca could have started with the astronauts as children, imagining what they
    would grow up to be. Wisdom tells us not to back up too far from where the action starts—and this pertains to
    informational writing and argument, too. Too much background gives the reader’s mind time to wander.
  • Pitfall 2: Including too many details. What if Floca took us through all the technical tweaks, failures, adjustments, and modifications? Would anyone finish the book? Readers generally want to get on with it. The mind craves the significant, the bizarre, the surprising—the dramatic. Leaving the mundane on the cutting room floor is crucial to good organization.
  • Pitfall 3: Following a formula. Floca’s organization combines chronology with visual order and comparison/contrast. It’s impossible to imagine emulating this organizational pattern because it’s unique to Floca’s book. That’s as it should be. There’s no boilerplate for an original vision.
  •  Pitfall 4: Forgetting the problems. Organization revolves around problems. There’s always a puzzle to solve, a difficulty to overcome. This is true regardless of genre. If there’s no problem, there’s no drama. No high point. Nothing to build to—or wind down from. In Floca’s book, we are constantly aware that someone could die. People could be stranded on the moon—if they get there. Families could lose loved ones. Without this tension, the poetry of the book would be far less compelling.
  •  Pitfall 5: Omitting transitions. It’s vital to link scenes, events, happenings, details. Otherwise, we readers are as adrift as astronauts without a spaceship! Floca is a master of transitional phrases, so that even when he moves from Earth to space and back again, he transports us on words that provide direction: Here below, here in Florida, Near the rocket, after an orbit around the Earth, Onboard, Here where everything floats, At the Moon, Onboard Eagle, Far from home. Though we fly from Earth to the moon and back, we never lose our way.
  •  Pitfall 6: Ending with a fizzle. Floca’s ending could hardly be better. People went to the moon. They could have died. But—they didn’t. Hallelujah! Best of all, he links the lead and conclusion. We begin with the distant view of the moon, and wind up with that distant view of Earth. Every great trip is like that: It begins with a vision of the destination, ends with a longing for home.

Teaching Structure

Here are six things you can do to help your students build structure into their writing:

  1. Trace the journey. Trace the organizational journey of any writer, lead to conclusion, as I did with Brian Floca’s book Moonshot. Abandon all your expectations. Go where the writer leads you. But at the end, talk about what worked well. Where did you feel guided—or lost? It’s not necessary to list everything that happens—that’s too tedious. But hit the high moments or main points or arguments. Tip: Use picture books for this. You can read the whole book in one sitting, and students can recall the content and keep a “vision” of the book’s map in their heads.
  2. Discuss design possibilities. Use the list of organizational designs (comparison/contrast, main point and detail) provided earlier as a discussion point. These are not meant as cut-out patterns or models to follow, but as design possibilities. Imagine you are writing the history of your community or family, the biography of a war hero or cancer survivor, a how-to book on planning a family gathering or choosing a rescue pet. What sort of organizational structure (or combination of structures) might work?
  3. Start with a list of details. One of the best, most successful organizational strategies I have EVER used with students involved the simple task of providing small groups with a list of random details on a topic (e.g., gorillas, soccer, fad diets) and asking them to do three things: (1) Get rid of any details that are not significant or interesting, (2) Group remaining details under sub-headings, and (3) Write the lead sentence for each segment/chapter indicated by your groupings. Results are genuinely amazing—and this activity works across genres.
  4. Identify the high point. Anyone can spot a lead or conclusion. Identifying the high point is much more difficult—and far more critical. Students need to know that narratives are not lists of things that happened. Informational pieces are not lists of details. Arguments are not lists of reasons for believing something. Every piece of writing (every successful piece, anyway) has a high point, a dramatic or significant moment, a turning point, a discovery, an epiphany, a revelation, a problem solved, a difficulty survived or overcome. Organization must revolve around this dramatic moment as surely as our planets revolve around the sun. Have students identify that dramatic moment (sometimes there’s more than one) in every piece they read.
  5. Take a guided tour. Organizing information is like taking readers on a guided tour of your topic. So try that. Imagine, for example, conducting a guided tour of your school for someone who’s never been there. Where would your students begin? Where would they go next, and after that? Where would they end? Why? You might actually physically do the tour—or just brainstorm it. List your stops and imagine yourself giving a short description of highlights at each one. What would you emphasize? What would you leave out? What overall impression would you create? Now imagine the stops on your tour as paragraphs or chapters within a text.
  6. Stress simplicity. As often as not, organization suffers from overload. Student writers begin a piece too early—too far in front of that turning point or dramatic revelation/discovery—include too much information, or go on long after the piece has ended (at least in the mind of the reader). Every style book on earth will tell you that organization is about order and grouping. Well, duh. But that’s a small part of it. Trust me—long before you order and group, you need to cut, cut, cut. You can’t tell everything, and even if you could, no one wants to read it. Cut. Then cut some more. Students who begin with a manageable list of details will have much more success in ordering them well. Organization begins with condensing.

 Coming up on Gurus . . .

Next time around, we’ll address Features 5 through 8: transitions, wording, conclusions, and conventions. We’ll define each feature and—as with this post—include some instructional suggestions. In the weeks to come, we’ll be reviewing Tom Newkirk’s new book, Minds Made for Stories, an insightful look at the true nature of narrative, as well as Lesley Roessing’s Bridging the Gap, an exploration of using memoir to master Common Core skills. You won’t want to miss either one.

We know you are busy, so thank you for stopping by, and as always, we hope you will come often and bring friends. Please remember . . . to book your own writing workshop featuring the 6 traits, Common Core Standards and the latest and greatest in young people’s literature, give us a call: 503-579-3034. Meantime . . . Give every child a voice.

 Write Traits    CW6 Cover  write_traits_kit_150

Resources

Looking for writing lessons? These resources were designed with YOU, the classroom teacher, in mind:

  • The Write Traits Classroom Kits ©2010 by Vicki Spandel and Jeff Hicks. These NEW edition kits are closely aligned with the Common Core Standards, and feature ready-to-go lessons that will make teaching both traits and standards-based skills a breeze. Students love these lessons—you will, too. The kits are available for grades K through 8. To order or preview copies, please go to the following web address:

http://www.hmheducation.com/write-traits/

Here you can preview the kits (through 13 videos featuring Jeff and Vicki), download a comprehensive brochure, download articles on assessment, writing process or the Common Core, or order grade specific kits (Just go to the Home page, and click on the red order button.) Note: For the closest connection to the Common Core, be sure that your search takes you to the NEW Houghton Mifflin Harcourt home page for the kits, featuring our revised, Common Core aligned 2010 edition.

  • Creating Writers, 6th edition, by Vicki Spandel. This newly released edition will help you teach ideas, organization, word choice, conventions and editing, and revision with confidence and flair. It includes numerous lesson ideas and connections to the Common Core Standards for writing. Find it at http://www.pearsonhighered.com/Spandel6e