CCIRA Professional Development Blog

By Travis Crowder and Todd Nesloney

When we published Sparks in the Dark six years ago, our primary goal was to generate discussion in K-12 educational settings about campus-wide literacy initiatives—ones that existed both inside and beyond the literacy classroom. One of the broader ideas regarded the importance of choice in terms of students’ independent reading. We argued that the latitude to read a book of choice is a powerful and necessary element in the development of a reading life. We centered joy, love, and curiosity in our conversation, understanding that without them, the act of reading is mere compliance. And now, at this juncture, we offer a continued discussion about the ways choice ignites a passion for reading, especially the role the educator plays in cultivating joy, love, and curiosity in the reading lives of students. 

Our collaborative literacy work stands on the shoulders of educators, writers, and researchers who assert that students need time to read books of their choice during the school day, particularly if they are to grow into a lifetime of reading and thinking. This assertion, though, implicates the teacher. Yes, educators should provide time for students to select books and read them, but the educator is essential in the calculus of independent reading and the development of an independent reader. Alongside students, educators must develop their knowledge of young adult and children’s literature through extensive reading. Then, we suggest teachers share the books they read with students, provide space(s) for students to preview books, offer time to read, and supply plenty of time for students to write about the books they decide to read. Of course, this assumes that teachers are researching and reading current children’s and young adult books. While students are resourceful and have always found ways to get books of interest (especially in a digital age where kids can easily access book reviews on Instagram and TikTok), the educator is influential in curating collections appropriate for specific age groups, facilitating conversations that help students differentiate between pleasure reading and academic reading (which can overlap), as well as the reasons readers reach for specific texts, and guiding students to think deeply about books of choice, reasons for reading them, and questions they generate while reading. 

In the years since writing our book, we have continued to read and write about the things that matter in literacy work with adolescents. Yes, choice matters. But choice may be limited to what the educator deems worthy or finds captivating. As we mentioned above, we keep coming back to the educator—the individual responsible for co-constructing a learning environment with students and fostering love, joy, and curiosity in themselves. We teach in a time where administrative forces demand a hyperfocus on standardization, lock-step teaching, scripted curricula, and allegiances to pacing and curriculum guides that ignore the teacher/learner dimension of education and center abstraction above the concrete, i.e., the humanity of teaching and learning. When institutions state that they lift and celebrate student learning and educator autonomy, we ask them to show, not tell. To care about students’ learning is to provide space and time for educators to collaborate, research, read, dialogue, and inquire. It demands a shift in thinking about professional development and learning, moving from an imposed system to a teacher-generated initiative. 

To foster such an environment, teachers must have time to collaborate about what it means to read and be a reader. This is a shift from the typical standards-focused conversation, which we understand is an important element in education. However, too often the standards-focused discussions fixate on objectives at the expense of students’ lives, experiences, and interests. When focusing on the reader, conversations tend to be more humane. 

Also, teachers need time to share books and book recommendations and create a community that values the rich questions of readers: What is our teaching and learning community reading? What have you read recently that you can’t stop thinking about? Can you read a sample for us? Why don’t we stop and take a moment to jot our thinking about the sample we just heard? How might this structure (reading, listening, jotting) work for our students’ development as readers? This type of professional community pushes forward the act of reading, not the objectives of reading. This does not mean the objectives aren’t important; it just means that they exist as the act of reading, what we want students to do, is elevated.

We must also think about how we as a campus are placing an importance on literacy. How do we advertise what we’re reading? Whose voice is loudest? Whether it’s signs outside your classroom showing what you’re currently reading, advertising in your email signature, or allowing students to share on the school announcements, sharing is important. Personal recommendations always carry more weight in the reading lives of ourselves, our colleagues, and our students. 

As we seek to discover and read new books and share them with others, one thought we should entertain is, “what have I read that challenged my thinking?” We all have our own perspectives, biases, and thoughts. When we read books that challenge our conventional way of thinking, it opens us up to new ideas and offers us new perspectives. 

In our world today where countless talking heads want to talk about what kids should or shouldn’t read, we always come back to the idea that you know your students and your community best. That’s why reading books before you recommend them, is so important. In the same vein, staying up to date on reading research and the way our brains consume information is instrumental. We can’t ask our students to come into our classrooms and learn every day if we aren’t continuing to learn ourselves. 

Reading is a journey. It’s one that takes many winding paths and isn’t meant to be walked alone. Don’t be afraid to go down those overgrown paths and try books others didn’t enjoy. Take the hand of someone and invite them on your journey. Allow them to experience the book alongside you. And when they want to go in a direction you’re not interested in, let them pursue that path and that book. In the end, we enjoy reading most when we’ve been given a say and a choice. 

As we move forward into this new school year, we strongly recommend teachers have opportunities to meet together to discuss books for children and reading research. This may require a shift in thinking about current professional learning community structures or a renouncement of former ways of implementing them. We suggest teachers keep notebooks to track their thinking about texts, as well as their noticings about teaching and working with young readers. Search online for new book releases, both children’s literature and professional texts. Critically analyze it. Engage others in conversation about what you read and learn and think. Be open to dialogue and feedback. If we want to inspire our students’ joy and passion for reading, we have to spark that fire within ourselves. 

This is one of the best ways to reclaim your joy, your curiosity, and your passion. 

And fall in love with books and learning all over again.

Travis Crowder is a teacher, writer, thinker, and voracious reader. Over time, he has deepened his understanding of the processes and classroom structures that engage students in reading and writing. His goal is to help students uncover the reader and writer inside of them, illuminating a path of self-discovery and a love for literacy. He is an avid fan of young adult literature, adult contemporary fiction, adult nonfiction, and reading and writing research. Travis currently teaches 7th grade language arts and social studies in North Carolina. Travis wrote Sparks in the Dark: Lessons, Ideas, and Strategies to Illuminate the Reading and Writing Lives in All of Us with Todd Nesloney.

Todd Nesloney is the Director of Culture and Strategic Leadership for the Texas Elementary Principals and Supervisors Association (TEPSA). He has also served as the Director of Get Your LEAD On (underneath the Get Your Teach On umbrella) and was previously a Principal/Lead Learner at a PreK-5 school in Texas. He is an award winning author for his books Kids Deserve It!, Stories From Webb, Sparks in the Dark, When Kids Lead, In This Season: Words for the Heart, and his newest book, Building Authenticity: A Blueprint for the Leader Inside You. He has also published a children’s book, Spruce & Lucy.

By: Katie Kelly & Lester Laminack

When visiting her two-year-old great-nephew’s tot school, Katie was approached by a child who handed her a bouquet of felt flowers. They had never met and had no interactions prior to this moment. Later during circle time, the same child returned to where Katie was sitting on the floor and leaned in for a little side hug.

This simple gesture is not unusual among young children and reminds us what humanity and kindness without fear or judgment looks like. Imagine how the world could change if each of us demonstrated this sort of welcoming, loving kindness to others. How do we teach folks to value the humanity of others without judgment? What might this look like in our classrooms and communities?

In his TED Talk, Drew Dudley discusses the importance of everyday leadership through simple gestures to improve life for ourselves and others. As a college student, he gave lollipops to incoming first year students waiting in line to register. He told one student to give the lollipop to the girl standing next to him in line. This simple gesture connected these two young college students and years later they invited Drew to their wedding.

What simple things can we do to create lollipop moments or flower moments for our students? We believe if they experience those moments and feel the impact of that kindness they are more likely to do the same for others. 

Let’s pause a moment and reflect on the world our students live in. It is a fast-paced life where people tend to rely on devices for connection to others. How do we slow down, be present, notice others, and celebrate our shared humanity? How do we teach young people to take action to improve the life of others?

Empathy is the ability to connect with others by being aware of, being sensitive to, and understanding and sharing in their thoughts, feelings, and experiences (Bazalgette, 2017; Henshon, 2019). It “helps us imagine the pain, joy, suffering, exhilaration, and love that other people feel, informing our choices and leading us to make connections” (Henshon, 2019, p. 14). Those human connections and trusting relationships not only support our overall wellbeing but also strengthen our abilities to support one another in a shared democratic community.

Empathy involves the ability to listen without judgment, to recognize emotion in others and communicate it (Mindshift, 2017; Brown, 2021). It also positions us to see the world from different perspectives and experience the world at a deeper level (Henshon, 2019). 

Teaching empathy and perspective taking can easily and naturally be woven into our daily instruction through read aloud experiences. Studies reveal that reading literary fiction can improve our ability to empathize with (emotional empathy) and understand others’ thoughts, feelings, and actions (cognitive empathy). Stories about the human condition, for example, help us recognize our common humanity, celebrate our differences, and come to better understand others (Bazalgette, 2017; Kelly et al., 2023). 

Literacy and literature hold great power in connecting us as human beings (Mirra, 2018). With each turn of the page, readers interact with the characters and the developing plot. As readers imagine characters’ thoughts, feelings, and intentions, they compare with their own (Lysaker & Tonge, 2013). They make connections, build background knowledge, and consider new information as they synthesize. They weave  ideas from the text with what they already know to infer about the characters’ thoughts, feelings, and motives. This type of inferential thinking supports the ability to engage in perspective taking, a central component of empathy (McCreary & Marchant, 2017).  “When the reader stands in [their] own worldview, unable to see or conceive of any other perspective, a book can be a bridge” (Laminack & Kelly, 2019, p. xiii). Stories provide readers with opportunities to witness life from various perspectives moving beyond oneself into the lived experiences of others.

The book, The True Story of Three Little Pigs by Jon Scieszka is commonly used as an entry point to teach about counter narratives (stories about those who have been historically marginalized). In the twist on the traditional tale, the wolf narrates the story offering his perspective to provide greater context that may humanize him and portray him as benevolent and lead the reader to build empathy for him. Since told from his perspective, the traditionally vilified character is humanized leading towards greater empathy for his situation.

The story, Hey, Little Ant by Phillip and Hannah Hoose offers another opportunity for students to examine how considering multiple perspectives can give us new insights into the dynamics of power, choice, and empathy. The story, written in the format of a reader’s theater script, presents a dialog between a young boy and an ant. The boy and his friends see squishing ants as a game, but the ant offers the boy (and readers) another perspective. That new information opens the door to conversations, consciousness, and choice.

In our classrooms we can plant seeds of empathy through intentional selection of texts for read aloud experiences followed by engaging conversations that may sprout compassion. Compassionate empathy involves a shift from understanding another’s perspective or feelings towards an action-oriented response as a form of solidarity, support, and revolutionary love.

In our book Reading to Make a Difference (2019), we offer an instructional framework to engage students in meaningful conversations with many examples of how students can take action individually or collectively to make a difference in their lives, the lives of others, and the world around them. As students read a collection of intentionally selected texts, they connect, reflect, and consider ways to take action – to do something as a result of reading. This shift from reading to connect and reflect towards taking action demonstrates a shift from empathy to compassion.

For instance, the students in Britney Ross’s first grade class delved into three books focused on honoring others. Together they read Each Kindness by Jacqueline Woodson, Those Shoes by Maribeth Boelts, and Enemy Pie by Derek Munson. Each of these stories offers several points of potential connection for readers. Those connections become sparks for guided conversation and moments of reflection. It is during these reflections that students typically express their sense of injustice and the desire to do something, to help make it better. Britney’s class settled on three suggestions: 1) launch a kindness project and do an act of kindness each day, 2) make a video of acts of kindness and send it out to the school, and 3) make kindness posters to display around school and the neighborhood. They chose to make posters to take their action beyond the school population. A few days later the students received a letter from a neighbor stating how the posters had helped brighten her day and gave her the nudge she needed to address something that was making her sad. When children are moved to the point of action by the power of story they can, and do, make a difference. 

“We believe that when we center our common humanity in our shared spaces of teaching and learning, we can develop essential connections and foster a caring and compassionate community where all individuals practice empathy and are inspired to take individual and collective action that leads to social justice and equity” (Kelly & Laminack, 2024).

References

Bazelgette, P. (2017). The empathy instinct: How to create a more civil society. London: John Murray Publishers.

Brown, B. (2021). Atlas of the heart: Mapping meaningful connection and the language of human experience. New York: Random House.\

Henshon, S. E. (2019). Teaching Empathy: Strategies for building emotional intelligence in today’s students. Taylor & Francis Group.

Kelly, K. & Laminack, L. (2024). Developing Empathetic and Civically Engaged Readers. Language Arts,101(4), 278-280.

Kelly, K., Laminack, L., & Vasquez, V. (2023). Critical Comprehension: Lessons for Guiding Students to Deeper Meaning. Corwin: Thousand Oaks, CA.

Laminack, L. & Kelly, K. (2019). Reading to Make a Difference: Using Literature to Think Deeply, Speak Freely, and Take Action. Heinemann: Portsmouth, NH.

Lysaker, J. & Tonge, C. (2013). Learning to understand others through relationally oriented reading. The Reading Teacher, 66(8), 632-641.

McCreary, J.J. & Marchant, G.J. (2017). Reading and empathy. Reading Psychology, 38, 182-202.

Mindshift. (2017, February 8). Empathy is tough to teach, but it is one of the most important lessons. Retrieved from https://www.kqed.org/mindshift/47502/empathy-is-tough-to-teach-but-is-one-of-the-most-important-life-lessons

Mirra, N. (2018). Educating for Empathy: Literacy learning and civic engagement. New York: Teachers College Press. 

Katie Kelly is a professor at Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina. As a former teacher and literacy coach, Katie’s teaching and research interests include engaging children in meaningful literacy experiences and practices to foster lifelong literacy, equity, and justice. 

She is widely published in various peer-reviewed journals including The Reading Teacher and Voices from the Middle. She has co-authored four books: Critical Comprehension: Lessons for Guiding Students to Deeper Meaning (Corwin); Reading To Make a Difference: Using Literature to Help Students Think Deeply Speak Freely and Take Action (Heinemann); From Pencils to Podcasts: Digital Tools to Transform K-12 Literacy Practices (Solution Tree); and Smuggling Writing: Strategies that Get Students to Write Every Day, in Every Content Area (3-12) (Corwin). She can be contacted by email at Katie.Kelly@furman.edu.  

Lester Laminack, Professor Emeritus, Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, North Carolina is a full-time writer and consultant working with schools throughout the United States and abroad. He is the author of over 25 books for teachers and children. His academic publications include Climb Inside a Poem (Heinemann) Cracking Open the Author’s Craft (Scholastic), Bullying Hurts: Teaching Kindness Through Read Aloud and Guided Conversations (Heinemann), The Writing Teacher’s Troubleshooting Guide (Heinemann), Writers ARE Readers: Flipping Reading Strategies 

into Writing Instruction (Heinemann), Reading to Make a Difference (Heinemann), The Ultimate Read Aloud Guide 2nd Edition (Scholastic) and The Ultimate Read Aloud Collection Fiction and Nonfiction (Scholastic). His newest work for educators is Critical Comprehension: Lessons for Guiding Students to Deeper Meaning (Corwin). 

Lester is also the author of several children’s books including: The Sunsets of Miss Olivia Wiggins, Trevor’s Wiggly-Wobbly Tooth, Saturdays and Teacakes, Jake’s 100th Day of School, Snow Day!, Three Hens and a Peacock (2012 Children’s Choice K-2 Book of the Year Award), and The King of Bees all published by Peachtree Publishers. His most recent book for children is Three Hens, a Peacock, and the Enormous Egg. His next book, A Cat Like That is scheduled for publication in January 2025.

Lester is available for professional development and school author visits. You can contact him via his website www.LesterLaminack.com and follow him on Facebook at 

https://www.facebook.com/lester.laminack or on Twitter @Lester_Laminack

By Kelly Boswell

Several months ago, I was invited into a middle school to work with a group of ELA teachers. As I guided the teachers in looking at student work, identifying strengths and needs, planning a lesson and teaching the lesson, we discovered the power of teaching kids the writing they need now. 

Start With Student Work

We began by gathering around large tables strewn with coffee cups, water bottles and a smattering of student writing samples. As we looked at the students’ work, we asked ourselves two questions and jotted down what we noticed: 

• What do we see students doing really well? 
• And what were some areas of need?

Within a few minutes we had created a list of all of the beautiful, skillful, funny and unique conventions and craft moves we saw along with a list of the skills, conventions and craft moves with which students needed more support. 

As the lively conversations continued around the table, a common need kept surfacing: The students needed support on how to craft an email that was clear, concise, and conventionally sound. 

Use Student Work to Plan Instruction

Now that we had identified a need, it was time to plan a lesson that would address it! As teachers watched, I planned a 30-minute writing lesson that would explicitly teach students how to craft an email in a purposeful and skillful way. 

To plan the lesson, I used a simple structure that I often use when I’m planning any kind of writing lesson with any grade level:

1. Examine the mentor text(s).
2. Engage in teacher modeling.
3. Invite students to talk with a partner.
4. Give students time to write.
5. Guide students in a time of reflection. 

Finding the mentor texts, or examples of what strong emails look like and sound like, took only a few minutes. I simply opened up my email and pulled up a few examples of email exchanges from my own inbox. After a few minutes of scanning the emails,I settled on two emails  that the principal of the school and I had exchanged leading up to my visit. 

With these examples in hand, I could guide the students in noticing the features and qualities of a strong email, show them how I write my own email, invite students to talk with a partner, provide time for them to write and give them an opportunity to reflect on the learning. 

Examine the Mentor Text(s)

As soon as I walked teachers through my thinking and planning, it was time to put the lesson into practice – with actual students!  I gathered my laptop, a large sheet of chart paper and markers and made my way to a 7th grade ELA classroom. 

As I connected my laptop to the smart board, hung up my chart paper and pulled out my favorite fat-tipped marker, the bell rang and students settled into their seats. I quickly introduced myself and then dove in. 

I asked partners to chat about what they already knew about writing emails. I listened in and made a mental note of what understanding the students were bringing to the lesson. 

Then, I called their attention to the screen at the front of the room, where the emails from my own inbox were displayed. We talked a bit about the audience for and purpose of emails and then I asked partners to talk about what they noticed about the email examples. How were they structured? What were the features? 

I listened in and jotted down their responses on chart paper. 

We agreed that a strong email had: 

• A clear subject line
• A greeting
• A friendly opening sentence (such as “I hope your week is going well so far”)
• A concise and clear communication about the purpose of the email
• A respectful sign-off
• The writer’s name 
• Very few, if any, conventional mistakes (capitalization, spelling, punctuation and grammar)

Engage in Teacher Modeling

Before I invited students to begin working on their own email, I asked them to watch me as I thought about who I wanted to write to and for what purpose. After a few moments of thinking (out loud), I decided to write to my son’s band and choir teacher to thank them for letting him split his elective period between their two classes. 

I paused. “To whom do you need to write an email? For what purpose? Meet with your partner and talk about who you are writing to and for what purpose. If you don’t have an email that you actually need to write, simply write an email to your ELA teacher telling her what you think of this lesson!”

Once the partners had some time to think and chat, I gathered the students back together and began planning the email I would craft. 

My think-aloud sounded something like this: “I think the subject will simply be ‘Thank You.’ Then, I think I’ll write both of their names followed by a comma. Maybe I’ll follow that with something like, “I hope the start of the school year is going well so far,” before saying something like, “I wanted to thank you for…” 

Invite Students to Talk With a Partner

“Now it’s your turn,” I told the students. “Meet back with your partner and think about what you want to say in your email. What will your subject line be? How are you thinking you’ll begin? What will the main part of your email be? What are you thinking in terms of a sign-off?”

The room buzzed as kids began planning their emails – out loud – with their partners. 

Give Students Time to Write 

Before I sent students off, they watched as I used my laptop to begin writing the email I had just talked through with them. I didn’t need to write the whole email in front of them – I simply showed them how I would get started, thinking out loud as I wrote. I also deliberately referred to the bulleted list we had created earlier, to show students that I was thinking about these qualities of a strong email as I was writing. 

When I released the students to begin writing, I paused for a moment and surveyed the room. 

Magic. 

Every single student was jumping right in and writing! 

I spent a few more minutes finishing my email and then made sure to display my modeled writing, along with the mentor texts and bulleted list – so that students could refer to these resources while they were writing. 

I walked around the room, pausing to admire student work, or check in with a student if I noticed a look of confusion. A few students asked for support with spelling and I quickly taught them a few resources they could use to help them. 

Guide Students in a Time of Reflection

When I noticed that most students were beginning to finish, I called the group back together. I invited them to read their email out loud to their partner – to see how it looked and to listen to how it sounded. 

Together, we referred to the bulleted list we had created and quickly checked our draft emails to make sure we had included the features of a strong email. (I also asked students to Cc their ELA teacher as a recipient of their email so that we could access these writing samples and could see if there was an improvement in their email-writing skills after the lesson.)

“Thumbs up,” I said, “If you feel that your email is strong and is ready to be sent!” 

Enthusiastic thumbs shot into the air and – on the count of three – we all hit “send!” 

Closing Thoughts

When the teachers and I gathered around the large tables again, analyzing the student writing samples from the lesson, we marveled. We saw a vast improvement in the writing we saw. The emails were clear, concise and conventionally strong. 

Mem Fox, beloved author and teacher, once said:

“You and I don’t engage in meaningless writing exercises in real life—we’re far too busy doing the real thing. And by doing the real thing we constantly learn how to do the real thing better.” 

I have found that students are more likely to become proficient writers who enjoy writing when they have some choice of topic and audience and they value the writing purpose. When we teach kids the writing they need now – writing that is purposeful, connects to an actual audience and is worthy of their time and effort – it can serve as a catalyst to help students improve their writing skills and enjoy the process along the way! 

Kelly Boswell has served as a classroom teacher, author, staff developer, literacy coach, university instructor and district literacy specialist. She is the author of several books with Heinemann Press and Capstone Press including Write This Way, Write This Way From the Start and Every Kid a Writer. She is also the author of several nonfiction children’s books with Capstone Press. Kelly works with schools and districts around the country to support educational leaders, coaches and teachers. Her emphasis is developing literacy practices that help students become joyful and engaged readers and writers.

References

Fox, Mem. 1988. “Notes from the Battlefield: Towards a Theory of Why People Write.” Language Arts 65 (2): 112–25. 

by Carl Anderson and Matt Glover

AI is evolving quickly, and we’re aware of its growing role in education.  While we’re not against teachers using AI to enhance instruction, we want to be careful about where and how teachers use it, what they gain when they do, and what they give up.

If you’ve spent time working with AI chatbots, you may have discovered that they can generate any kind of text quickly. Ask one, “Create a personal narrative about a day at the beach,” or, “Write a literary essay about why the character of Harry Potter is brave,” and within seconds, almost like magic, one appears on your computer screen, fully formed. You can even ask chatbots to write texts that include particular craft moves, such as transitions in essays or dialogue in realistic fiction.

It would seem that chatbots can help address the problem that teachers face of gathering mentor texts for the writing units of study. Right? After all, it takes time to gather mentor texts, time that busy teachers seem to have less and less of these days. And some genres we teach children are harder to find than others. 

However, for several reasons, we have strong reservations about using AI to generate mentor texts.

First, think about the meaning of the term, “mentor.”  A mentor is a more experienced person who helps us become better at an important skill. When we teach with mentor texts in classrooms, we name the author of the text as we teach with it. (“Let’s take a look at how Jacqueline Woodson wrote the lead to her story, Sweet Sweet Memory.) When possible, we share information about an author, to help students understand why they wrote the text (e.g. Jaqueline Woodson wrote Sweet, Sweet Memory in memory of her grandfather, Ganaar, who was a gardener.)  We do this to demystify writing for children, to help them understand that real people—like Jacqueline Woodson–write texts, which means that they can do so themselves. And we do this to support children’s identities as writers, which means they need to see themselves doing the same things that published authors do.

However, if we were to teach with an AI generated mentor text, there is no person behind the text! We can’t name the author, because there is none. We can’t share details about the author’s life that explain why they wrote the text, because there aren’t any. We can’t make the point that students can be writers like the author, because there is no author and, in fact, the text was written by an AI algorithm.

Second, we teach with mentor texts because we want students to learn to use the same craft techniques the authors use, for similar reasons.

If we were to teach with AI generated mentor texts, it would be difficult to authentically study the craft moves that these texts contain. Not because AI generated mentor texts don’t contain craft moves—the AI chatbot will search its memory for similar texts, and create ones with commonly used craft techniques, or we can tell the AI chatbot to write a text using specific craft techniques that we want to teach. The problem we would have is with the important discussion about why these craft techniques are used in the mentor text.  When we study a craft technique in a mentor text, we ask students, “Why do we think the author used this craft technique?  What effect did they think this craft technique would have on their readers?” 

For example, we might ask students, “In Sweet, Sweet Memory,” why do you think Jacqueline Woodson, used the technique of the “description list” to describe the setting of the story (“Somewhere an owl is hoo-hooing soft and loud. Under the porch there are field mice moving around. Maybe a frog or two.”) In response to this question, students can genuinely speculate that that Woodson used this description list to create a beautiful image of the setting in her readers’ mind.

We can’t have this conversation about an AI generated mentor text! That’s because the text was generated at our command, not because a real person wrote it. We can’t speculate about why the “author” used a craft technique because there was no thinking mind behind the text, and because the AI chatbot didn’t use craft techniques to effect readers, since AI chatboxes aren’t people who write for audiences! 

Third, if we ask an AI chatbox to create mentor texts that contain certain craft moves, then the texts will reflect only what we know already know about the genre. If we rely solely on AI to generate mentor texts, then we are missing the opportunity to learn more about the genre that we would have if we were to look for authentic examples where they are found in the world.  This is especially important for new teachers when they are building their knowledge base about writing.

For example, let’s say we ask an AI chatbox to generate several arguments that each have a claim, three reasons, a counterargument, and a conclusion, because that’s how we think arguments usually go. If instead we were to look for arguments in the world, we would discover that some have two reasons, some four (note that this argument has five!). And in some arguments, the author starts their lead with a counterargument, or writes a counterargument before a reason. By studying real examples of argument, we would not only deepen our knowledge of the genre, but we are then able to show students that there are many ways to write an argument—and that as writers, they need to choose the one they think will best help them argue their point.

Fourth, one of the powerful ways we teach with mentor texts is to point out the ways that students are becoming like the authors of the texts. For example, when we confer with mentor texts, both of us often say to students things like, “Wow, I see that you’re using description lists in your story, just like Jacqueline Woodson does in Sweet Sweet Memory!” This is powerful feedback for students. When we compare them to mentor authors who they love and admire, we help build their confidence as writers.  

If we were to teach with AI chatbot generated mentor texts, how can we have this kind of conversation with students?  What would we say?  “Wow, I see that you’re writing just like the algorithm in the AI chatbot?” In what way would this “compliment” have the powerful effect that comparing students to real, live authors that students admire has?

Finally, it’s important to consider the important role that mentor texts play in increasing student engagement in writing. When we teach with mentor texts, we try to select mentor authors who have things in common with the students we’re teaching, and who write about topics that reflect the identities and interests of our students. As Rudine Sims Bishop has written, texts should be “mirrors” for children that reflect their various identifies, their lives, and their interests, so that they realize that these identities, lives and interests are worth writing about.  

We are at a loss when we think about engagement and AI generated mentor texts.  Since there is no person behind an AI generated text, a student cannot be inspired by the author of the texts in the ways they can be inspired by reading a text written by authors like Jacqueline Woodson. After the careful and important work done over the last decade to include mentor texts in our teaching that are representative of the children in a particular classroom, using AI-generated texts seems like a step backwards to us.

We understand that teachers are pressed for time, and that using AI-generated mentor texts can help mitigate the time crunch. However, while it does take some time to find high quality mentor texts in the world, there are excellent sources for mentor texts that are readily available for teachers, such as their classroom or school library, or children’s magazines such as Cricket, Highlights, or Scholastic Storyworks. And we find that when teachers work together to find high-quality mentor texts, the process takes less time. (We describe ways that you can do this collaboratively in our book, How to Become a Better Writing Teacher.)

We also understand that some genres are hard to find. For example, where can you find high-quality literary essay for third graders? We suggest that in these cases, it’s better for you and your colleagues to write your own mentor texts, so that students are studying texts written by real people (you and your colleagues) who can authentically talk about what they did to write them, and why.  

And we also think that if a genre is hard to find, this may suggest you should consider that it not be a genre that you study with your students. For example, literary essay is almost never written for elementary age children as the audience. Since children rarely see it, then why are we studying it in the first place? 

Works Cited

Bishop, Rudine Sims.  1990.  “Mirrors, Windows and Sliding Glass Doors.”Perspectives:  Vol. 6, No. 3, Summer Issue.

Woodson, Jacqueline.  2007.  Sweet, Sweet Memory. Jump At the Sun: New York City.

Carl Anderson and Matt Glover are teacher educators who work with teachers around the world. They are co-authors of the new book, How to Become a Better Writing Teacher.  

by Georgia Heard

I was teaching the names and ignoring the songs – Robin Wall Kimmerer

When my son was young, we took long walks down the street searching for small treasures on the ground. Our treasures were often a blade of grass, a pebble, or a seedling. It took half an hour to walk one block as he stopped to pick up a rock, gaze at a ladybug, stoop down to touch a seed or sometimes, when I wasn’t looking, stuff a not-too-special cigarette butt into his pocket. As we meandered down the sidewalk, he asked a lot of questions: Why does a ladybug have spots? How does a tree grow from a seed? He might lift up a leaf and study it closely or watch a worm wriggle across the sidewalk. My son was doing what all young children do: they see the extraordinary in the ordinary; they ask a lot of questions about the world; and they notice minute details in the everyday. 

I heard the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer, who is also the founding director of the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment, in an interview talk about how part of the scientific process is to name things — for example, to label a specific type of plant (Bayberry: Myrica) or bird (Cedar Wax Wing: Bombycilla cedrorum). But she warns that knowing the scientific name can often shut down inquiry: “We sort of say, Well, we know it now.” She says her evolution as a scientist involved embracing Indigenous ways of knowing: “I was teaching the names and ignoring the songs.” 

Kimmerer’s words remind me of a children’s book I read years ago called The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor. It describes a young boy who learns from an elderly teacher how to listen to the sounds and songs of the natural world. This wise man teaches the boy to hear a wildflower seed bursting open, rocks murmuring and hills singing. He tells the boy that it takes a lot of practice and “you can’t be in a hurry.”

Both Robin Wall Kimmerer and Byrd Baylor’s advice resonate for me as a writer as well. When we write, we can look at an ocean and write “Atlantic Ocean” and even describe it with a few details: blue water, waves crashing, sandy beach. But hearing (or imagining) the waves’ roar, smelling the salty air, seeing hundreds of shells scattered like stars on the sand, and closing our eyes and hearing what the ocean is telling us is a different kind of knowing; it’s about learning to listen and understanding the heart or poetry of something. 

In my new edition of Awakening the Heart: Teaching Poetry I describe a project I did during a month-long residency at an International school in Bangkok. In conjunction with the school’s theme of botany, they aspired to rewild a vacant lot next door in the midst of a bustling cityscape of skyscrapers and non-stop traffic. As a visiting writer, my job was to guide young learners in exploring the “poetry” of plants, if you will. 

In preparation for rewilding the vacant lot and for writing, we first imagined seeds as sentient and wondered what they might feel as they lay nestled in the dark ground waiting to sprout. We also pretended we were seeds, crouching on the floor, then slowly rising upwards toward the light. Children observed and sketched seeds, and we had conversations about what a seeds’ journey might be like both scientifically and poetically. Then they wrote messages to the seeds directly on heart-shaped wildflower seeded paper that they would then plant in the vacant lot and, hopefully, someday flower and flourish: “Seed, I hope you have a good life.” And, “We hope you don’t get eaten by bugs and other animals.” 

We imagined the children’s words mingling with the seeds and the dirt, singing songs of hope, strength, and courage to help make this small bare patch a verdant and gorgeous place.

This is what a poet’s job is, and also what children do naturally when given the opportunity: to look at the world with wonder and to feel and take in the aliveness and beauty of the world. This gift of paying close attention, especially to the small things, is often a portal to wonder, to learning, to being stewards of our planet and also, to being a poet.

Georgia Heard received 2023 Excellence in Poetry for Children Award which honors a living American poet for their aggregate work for children ages 3-13. She is the author of 21 books and numerous professional books. Her newest professional book is Awakening the Heart (second edition) and her new children’s picture book is Welcome to the Wonder House (coauthored with Rebecca Kai Dotlich). Learn more about Georgia on her website: Georgiaheard.com or on social Instagram and X @georgiaheard1.