Receiving Education While Sitting In Tree

This weekend, November 7 & 8, has been the opening weekend of the Minnesota rifle season for whitetail deer.  It is the 31st year I have loaded a weapon and headed to the woods as a licensed member of the orange army.  It is the first year, however, that I have gone to the woods with a daughter by my side.

Of my three daughters, it is Child 2 who has taken the most interest in outdoor pursuits.  She has hunted with me on short outings a couple of times prior to this year, but this marks her first year as a licensed hunter.  She took firearm safety classes last spring, has done enough shooting to become consistent at making kill shots from 30 yards, and has helped with offseason work on trails, food plots, and stands.  Now, finally, she can take part in the fun part of the hunting process.

I was misguided as a novice hunter...."mistreated" might be a better word.  Placed in a stand at dawn, left alone until lunch, left alone again until dark.  Luckily I was usually put on a stand that deer generally avoided so I wouldn't be bothered in my quest to avoid freezing to death.  As I suffered through season after season in those early years I thought hunting had only two benefits - killing a deer and seeing the season end.  I accomplished the latter much more consistently than the former.  Over much time, some trial, and many errors I have developed a deep appreciation for the many benefits of the November hunt.  I am thrilled at the chance to share this appreciation with a new generation of hunter.

As Child and I have hunted these last couple of days we've talked about more than just which stand to hunt and what sign looks fresh.  We have discussed the dilemma between the desire to kill a deer and the dread of having to kill a deer.  Looking at the difference between a responsible shot and a risky shot was an early topic when we had a young buck come out to us at 9:30 on opening morning.  She got a chance to practice mental and physical toughness on day one when the early morning temps were below freezing.  And patience, ever in short supply for both of us, was tested often on both days as hours would slide by between deer sightings.

I could, and will, write volumes about what hunting means to me and what I hope it can mean to her.  Right now hunting means we're exhausted, and the dawn of day three will be cracking too soon.  We have seen small bucks, medium bucks, and one huge buck.  We had a buck at the base of our stand and nice doe too far out in the brush for a clean shot.  We have seen deer while together and she's had a chance to see deer while hunting alone.  What we haven't done yet is pull the trigger, but I don't think either of us care.  We have enjoyed two entire days together doing something we both love with someone we both love.  The journey thus far has been far more meaningful than the destination, which was the first, and most important, lesson I wanted her to learn.

Cows Don't Read

Why, oh why, is reading so frustratingly hard for some children to master?  Is there a more magical question in all of education?  What riches would befall the bearer of the answer?  And just how many questions can I use in an opening paragraph?

I have taught primary aged students for 18 years.  I spent 16 years teaching either first or second graders; this is my second year as a K-2 Title I teacher.  I spend my entire day with students who struggle to read, many of whom will probably never truly “master” the skill.  Occasionally a parent will vent frustration over listening to her young reader stumble through a book.  Cry me a river, sister – try spending six hours a day, every day, with dozens of clumsy readers.  I’ve hidden all the scissors in my classroom for fear of plunging them into my eardrums the millionth time I hear a kid read “Mick’s sister licked his dog” (No, genius, she didn’t – but she probably liked Mike’s dog).

I feel great sadness for my struggling readers…I really do.  I fully realize that for every ounce of frustration I feel over their lack of progress they are feeling several.  I know many of them were not read to, or properly visited with, prior to entering school.  A large percentage of my clientele is poor.  In most cases the root cause of below average reading is beyond the reader’s control.  Or is it?

While watching hundreds of readers, of all abilities, move through my classroom over the years I’ve noticed physical traits shared by fluent readers that are absent in struggling readers.  This is a completely unscientific observation that I cannot quantify or prove, but I am firmly convinced that the body is as much a key to strong reading as is the mind…perhaps more so in some cases.  For example, struggling readers…

            …have terrible physical self-control.  They don’t sit still.  They don’t use a tracking finger correctly.  They don’t keep their eyes on the text.  Their heads bounce like a bobble head on horseback.  Think this stuff doesn’t matter?  Ok then, grab an unfamiliar text and go read it…on a lawn tractor…while driving over a freshly plowed field.  Be fluent while reading and answer questions 3-8 when you’re finished.  Good luck.

            …put their brains to sleep when it’s time to learn.  Poor readers are never, never, sitting up and sitting forward with a learning posture.  They lean back and slide down in their chair, a perfect posture for The Sitting Dead auditions.  They lay their head down on the desk or table, or they prop their head up with one or two hands.  These actions give one clear signal to the brain – naptime!!

            …are content with life in the slow lane.  Whether it’s being last during a transition or the final kid at the lunch table, poor readers are sluggish in most aspects of their lives.  They walk slow, they talk slow, they write slow, they sneeze slow.  And since they live in slow motion, why then would they read any other way than slow?

            …read like a cow.  My paras love this one.  Ever notice how poor readers struggle to read a word but then don’t let go of the word once it finally comes out?  “Has” becomes “hhhaaaaaaaaaaassssss”.  Very early in every school year I give my “don’t read like a cow” speech.  Slowpokes don’t recognize their own lack of speed, but when I ask these same kids to explain how a cow talks (a looooonnnnnngggg drawn out mmmmmmoooooooooooooooo) and relate that to slow reading, something usually clicks.  Especially when I stand by a slow reader and starting mooing while he reads.  And make him eat hay.

I find these physical…glitches…intriguing because I believe I can fix them.  I can’t change a kid’s socio-economic status.  I can’t roll them under a new apple tree.  I can’t reverse time to fill the voids created by an underwhelming upbringing.  But I can make kids sit up often enough to make it a habit.  I can make them understand how listening to their own voice can keep them more human and less cow.  I can coach them up day after day……after day…..….after day, and slowly create a little bit of drive to become more than a slowpoke.  As I break down their physical barriers these struggling readers get more reps on passages, move more words out of their mouths, and begin to transform into an emergent reader.  Just in time for summer vacation.