Reading block began as usual this morning. I had changed my lesson plan just a bit when reading ahead a couple of days ago. I noticed that in my reading basal, there was a short introduction to the use of the dictionary. Here’s something about me you should know. I LOVE the dictionary. I like words. I like hearing new words, I like knowing how to spell them correctly, and I like to know what they mean. On a side note, a fun game for me is to occasionally make up my own inventive meaning of a word. For instance, “desalinate” actually means to remove salt, right? But in Vonda’s World, I might decide that it really means to “empty the nasal passages of thick, green mucous with loud and annoying gusto. “ Well, you get the idea.
One of my students did the same thing this week. We have 24-hour words, here in the Magic Tree House. These are words that the student himself chooses. My only rule is it must be school appropriate. For 24-hours that word "belongs" to them. They are to study it, memorize its spelling, and find out its meaning. The kids have taken to also illustrating these words on the backs of their index cards. These are priceless treasures that really should be passed on to adoring parents. I will do it eventually. But for the time being I enjoy having them all stuffed in a plastic bag on my desk, their little thoughts and pictures staring at me. It’s like a journal of their thought processes as six-year-olds.
So this boy stands beside me when it is his turn to choose a word. You need to understand that this child has struggled mightily with getting the hang of reading. I am feeling immensely better about where he’s at in the reading journey, but ten weeks ago I was downright alarmed. So when I looked at him this day and said, “OK, what’s your word for today?” He thought for a moment, but only a moment, then stated with complete confidence,”fiddlyfiddlydo.” I had been prepared for the usual litany of safari animal names, or spelling words, or farm machinery titles. I looked at him in complete surprise. Where had THAT come from? I asked him to repeat it. Fiddlyfiddlydo. I had heard him the first time. I arched an eyebrow and paused. OK, Bub, I’ll play your little game. “And just what does fiddlyfiddlydo mean?” He paused a moment, but only a moment. “It means... to make a sandwich and then fill your belly with it.” Bravo! Well played, you little word-maker-upper! Fiddlyfiddlydo it shall be, and it is now my new favorite non-word.
Think about that. This child has hated reading. Hated the process of learning to break words into phonemes. Hated to be forced to decode the strange and difficult foreign language of the written word, and now he’s manipulating that same language into colorful new words, complete with definition? Are you KIDDING me? I nearly fell off the too-small-but-just-the-right-size-for-a-first-grader chair. I laughed out loud. Not at him, certainly, but at the joyous idea that he was beginning to make friends with the arduous task of learning to read.
So here we are today, wrapping up our reading lesson. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed one of the Big Books we had read previously in the week – genre – nonfiction. Title – Red-Eyed Tree-Frogs. The teacher’s manual had suggested I pick the word “Macaw” out of the book, and use it to demonstrate how to use a dictionary. SIDETRACK WARNING: In case you did not already know this… kids L-O-V-E nonfiction books. They really and truly do. Anything to do with science, biographies, geography, social studies interests them to no end. The subject matter is nearly irrelevant. Children just naturally want to learn all they can about this big, wonderful world they live in. It is pure joy to be witness to their wide-eyed discovery of it.
Back to Webbie. I hold the dictionary I had grabbed off our class “library” shelf, an ancient thing probably written on papyrus, and tell them that Macaw is an interesting word to me, but I would like to know more about it. How can learn more? (This leads to an interesting discussion of where teachers go when they don’t have the answers. Their suggestion was I find a smart person to ask. OK, that smarted just a bit…)
I dramatically open the falling-apart book and tell them this is a Magic Book. Sixteen eyes are now wide and sixteen ears are listening. “Every word you could ever think of, or want to know about is in this book. Every single one.” Gasps of amazement. I see their little brains wondering how it came to be that our very own Magic Tree House came into possession of such a rare treasure.
I showed them the process of finding my word alphabetically, not spending too much time on technique yet, as I did not want to put the proverbial pin in the balloon of the moment. I found Macaw and read with flair, “A large parrot of Central and South America.”
“Now it’s your turn,” I announced to them. “Pick any word and I will find it in my magic book.” Hands shoot upwards. I picked a child and already knew what his word would be. “Tractor!” was his challenge to me. I read aloud the letters as I flipped past them until we got to the T’s. Finding his favorite word in the whole wide world, I turned the book to face the class and pointed to tractor. His jaw dropped. By now I have the odd sensation that I am living at that moment in some alternate universe. These kids are ENJOYING this??? I had not anticipated this at all. This is what teachers fantasize about. “Another word,” I invite. They keep coming so fast I have to cut it off before all are satisfied.
Technically it was time for our weekly reading assessment. Our principal IS Father Time. Block time is sacred in his world. Now Rebellious Vonda is having an internal war. If reading assessment is late, then math block will be off-schedule... Shoot fire, let’s keep going, I decide with Devil-May-Care abandon. I walk to the board and write “bed.” I stack the remaining dictionaries on the back table near me, many of them having been brought to the Dakota Territory by wagon train, I am certain.
Now I challenge them to take a dictionary and find the word listed on the board. The stampede is instantaneous. I offer a wide variety of ancient books, and the arguing over who gets which one begins, an established ritual in First Grade Society. Books are opening all over the room now, and pages are falling out all over the floor. Egads! At the round worktable, Mr. I-Give-Up-Too-Easily declares that his book does not have the word “bed” listed. I help him find it. He is amazed. I am more amazed. These kids are eating this stuff up! Now they have moved on to other words. Words they themselves have thought of. All I can say is, it will always be one of the most gratifying, rewarding moments of my teaching career, and my life in general. As I stood among them, aged pages fluttering to the floor, children chasing after the written word, my heart nearly burst. They have gone from simply wondering about something, to knowing how to find their own answers. Their horizons broadened in front of my very eyes in that moment.
Did it matter to them that the resource at their disposal is outdated? When I say outdated, I’m so not kidding. The back of the book lists Eisenhower as the sitting president. Herbert Hoover is still living. And Alaska and Hawaii aren’t even states yet! It did not matter a whit to them. It matters to me because it bespeaks the lack of import such valuable resources hold in this bastion of education. It is unforgivable, in my opinion. I pick and choose my battles very carefully (you have to when you raise teenagers, no?) But when Mrs. Dahl gets worked up, well..., let’s just say I can be very tenacious. There WILL be new dictionaries in my classroom, and as soon as possible. Somehow, someway….
My Glory Road moment did not end there. When told to put dictionaries away for the much-delayed reading assessment, there were actual groans of dismay. “But I had more words I wanted to find!” was heard in stereo. Later in the day, when those that were speedy with assignments were finished, they would ask if they could get the Magic Books out again. Absolutely. Some even took notes, no less! Others asked for copies to be made of the page they were looking at in order to take home and keep reading.
I peeked over the shoulder of one, and read his note-taking with a smile. “ex cel lence – meaning, “high quality or merit.”
I think today was a day of excellence. I think these kids have futures of excellence. I think on Monday morning, when I walk into General Patton’s office (the Superintendent), and request fresh supplies for my troops, he will say, “pick out the kind you want and get them ordered. EXCELLENT request, Mrs. Dahl.”
Mr. Webster, you rock!
I'm hungry. I think it is time for some fiddlyfiddlydo….
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