The Pedagogy of Antoine Roussel

Roussel Thumbs Up

Most of you are probably unfamiliar with the name “Antoine Roussel.”

He’s not a traditional educator – or an educator at all. He’s a professional hockey player. A personal favorite of mine, actually.

And I have the t-shirts to prove it.

Pro hockey, like any other high-end form of athletic entertainment, is home to the elite. That’s why we pay big money to watch them – because they’re better than everyone else at what they do. Lots better.

Ridiculously better.

Nevertheless, there is much to learn from Roussel for those of us in a very different world. A world in which many people do what we do, for not very much money. A world in which it’s eternally debatable whether we’re winning or losing, and no one can seem to agree about exactly what our job is, let alone whether or not we’re doing it well.

I’d like to introduce you to the man fans call the Feisty Frenchman, the Rousster, or DangeRouss – all names I’m pretty sure he hates. In fact, if it comes up, don’t tell him I shared those, covenu?

I’d like to tell you why he’s one of my edu-heroes. And yes, it’s a list. Like cargo pants or cover bands, contrived blog-lists never quite go out of style.

1. Have a plan, but be ready to follow unexpected paths.

With Great Power...

Roussel was born in Roubaix, France. For those of you who don’t follow God’s Favorite Game, professional hockey players don’t generally come from France. Rouss is one of only three currently playing in the NHL.

He played rugby as a youngster. It was hot out there on the field, so he kept going to the sidelines to get water. Once Antoine went, teammates followed.

We all have that kid in class – not necessarily intentionally disruptive, but a natural leader who often chooses directions we wish they wouldn’t. And they never go alone.

It made his coach crazy, and eventually it was clear rugby wasn’t going to work. His mother figured hockey would be cooler – like, literally.

He played in France, and eventually came to North America. For several years he bounced around in the minor leagues, sometimes getting looks from NHL affiliates, but not quite finding his role.

The Dallas Stars underwent a major rebuild several years ago, and in 2012 picked up this relative unknown for his reputation as a gritty, in-your-face presence on the ice. It wasn’t long before he was a fan favorite not only for his skill set, but his infectious grin and borderline psychotic drive towards success.

Was it his destiny? Who cares? It’s where he is – and he’s making it count. Apply this as you like to your professional journey, your learning journey, or any given lesson or unit. Sometimes you take it where you decide; sometimes you let it go where it wishes.

2. Standards matter, but growth matters more. Value effort and meaningful gains.

It’s disingenuous to suggest that natural talent doesn’t matter – in hockey, in teaching, in being a student. It does. Whatever combination of genetics and upbringing and luck make for success, sometimes it just… is what it is.

But there’s much to be said for sheer force of will. It’s not a guarantee, but determination sure changes the odds. Sometimes exponentially.

Most of us have a soft spot for that kid who gives 137% whether or not they become the most brilliant student or the most talented player as a result. That mindset stirs greatness. It changes the game not only for that player, but for everyone around them. It changes attitudes, and perceptions, and those intangibles that make everything better.

You want a growth mindset? Don’t be so quick to celebrate lazy excellence – student work that meets your basic requirements but cost them little to do so. Acknowledge their gifts, but ask them how they could stretch themselves productively.

You want a growth mindset? Know when to embrace faltering steps forward from those short on talent, passion, or both. Recognize widows’ mites when they’re given.

I know there’s a whole ‘grit’ argument still raging on the more legit blogs, and that’s fine. What I’m talking about, though, isn’t externally imposed discipline or inflicted hardships. It’s simply recognizing the long-term value of deciding to keep going. To work harder. To figure things out. It’s finding ways to make yourself better and demand of the universe that progress will occur – with or without its cooperation.

That’s you, too, teacher-type. Roussel’s energy is exceptional even among the elite – it’s productive, and diverse. When things are good, he takes it up a notch. When things are bad, he takes it up two.

Don’t give up. Don’t stop trying things. Qui n’avance pas, recule.

3. Students can’t excel if they feel bound by directions; teachers can’t excel if they’re always worried about breaking the rules.

Roussel plays on the edge, sometimes past it. There are times I’d rather he made better decisions in the moment. But that same fearlessness that gets him into trouble also makes him a perpetual force for good on the ice. Coach Ruff is periodically asked after a game how he’ll address something Rouss did that in retrospect hurt the team more than it helped, and his answer is always the same. “It was the wrong decision, and we’ll look at that. But he’s out there every day giving us everything he has. I’m not going to quash that.”

I’m not suggesting it’s ever OK to be unethical. It’s never OK to hurt or misuse your kids, for any reason. But every great teacher knows that you can’t build the relationships you need to draw out the best in some students, or establish the dynamics required of a productive classroom, if your primary concern at every step is whether or not everything you say or do would play well at a disciplinary hearing.

Know the content, and the pedagogy. Know the standards, and the policies. But when it’s time to make things happen, follow your gut and do what’s best for learning and for kids – not what’s safest for you.

As to assignments and other directions, give students enough guidance that they have structure, and support. Unclear expectations can be crippling. But don’t let the rules take over like evil robots in bad sci-fi. The rubrics were made to support the learning; the learning isn’t there to satisfy the rubrics.

4. Sometimes it’s OK to irritate other people. 

Roussel is not what you’d call a ‘goon,’ but he is an agitator. He thrives on targeting top players on the other team and annoying the hell out of them. Why? Because their focus starts to become him, rather than playing the game. They make stupid mistakes which work to his team’s advantage.

In terms of education, it’s rarely useful to irritate people just for kicks. But the idea that we should never annoy leadership, or parents, or political power, or one another, is silly. Sometimes the pot needs stirring so the dross rises to the top. Sometimes insight requires provocation.

I personally learn a great deal by lobbing a few conversational hand grenades when I meet new people and seeing what happens. I don’t always make new friends that way, but I sure do learn a great deal. And the friends I do have tend to be smarter than me, bluntly honest, and quick to call me out. Why have them otherwise?

(And it’s ALWAYS OK to taunt Chicago, I assure you. They eat it up and give back twelve baskets-full.)

5. Recognize outbursts of greatness when they occur.

Roussel signed with the Stars in 2012 and scored in his first game. That makes a mark. He’s rarely a top scorer on the team, but he’s often in the top dozen players in the LEAGUE in terms of game-winning goals. He always leads the team and sometimes the entire NHL in penalty minutes, but he’s getting better at picking and choosing which penalties are worth taking, and in what circumstances.

As a teacher, be good every day if you can. Never give less than your best. But be great sometimes. Step up when it matters most.

More importantly, you want to keep kids with you even a little? Recognize the good moments. Treat those random bits of brilliance as the natural greatness you always suspected they were hiding. Be genuinely thankful for the bits of each kid that make them interesting, or fun, or worth tolerating for one more day. You’ll accomplish more and last way longer.

6. People always matter.

Roussel is a fan favorite for his on-ice performance. Off the ice, however, he’s one of the most approachable and grateful professionals in the league. He avoids the easy clichés many players fall into doing countless interviews, instead giving his real self for every reporter, every time. At away games, Rouss will find the green jerseys in the crowd and celebrate with them when the Stars score. It’s a simple thing – a small, silly thing – but the kind that changes people’s entire experience.

Dangerouss

When fans line up for autographs as the team leaves the practice arena, most players are professionally polite. Rouss is approachable and charming. My wife and I were caught off guard in the stands one day as he came up to fetch a couple of friends sitting nearby.

“Oh! Um… Rouss!”

It would have been easy to feel awkward or foolish, but he grinned like we were doing him some huge favor by noticing him at all. That’s not about us – that’s just how he treats people. All of them.

It’s adorable.

You know the clichés in education. They don’t care how much you know, etc. People always matter. Always. First. Every time. Small people. Make it happen, or you have no business trying to teach them anything.

7. Do what needs doing, as best you can do it. That’s good enough. You are good enough. 

As in many sports, hockey players tend to grow into certain ‘roles’ they’re expected to play. Sometimes circumstances change, and flexibility is required.

Not being pegged into a single role has actually benefitted the winger. Though Roussel often plays on the Dallas Stars’ checking line, {he’s recently} found himself providing support to his team’s top players such as Jason Spezza, Patrick Sharp and Ales Hemsky.

“I’m not a top-line guy, but I’ve been up and down the lineup, just helping the team do whatever we need,” Roussel said. “If it’s playing on the fourth line or the top, I can do it all. It’s a good confidence {Coach Lindy Ruff} has given me sometimes. I appreciate that.”

Be realistic, and advocate for yourself – absolutely. But once planted, bloom like you mean it. That manure they’re dumping is just more fertilizer, baby – and that rain is just, well… rain.

Conclusion

Nothing I do is nearly as entertaining or impressive as Roussel or any other elite performer, although I like to think it has value in its own larger way. We live vicariously through those we cheer, and whether he’s winning or losing at the moment, I can’t help but draw hope and encouragement from a wild-eyed Frenchman on skates, who simply doesn’t know when to quit.

You may, of course, choose someone else as your role model if you like – but mine can probably beat yours up.

Reading in Social Studies

 Vast Endless Sea

I’m a big fan of reading in social studies. I realize there are reasons we don’t do more of it, but I don’t want ‘lack of ideas’ to be one of them.

At the end of this post is a link to some content-specific lists compiled from teacher suggestions at various workshops and in my own department. I’ve read most of them along the way, but some descriptions are paraphrased from other sources. I’ve tried to stick with titles either recommended by multiple teachers or at least recommended somewhat passionately by whoever did the recommending. I’ve also tried to leave out titles not currently in print, since that would render them rather difficult to use in class.

I’m also looking for your suggestions for other titles, or comments if you’ve used any of these in class yourself – what you liked, or didn’t, thoughts for other teachers considering them, or other titles you’d use instead – and why. Don’t do it for me – do it for… *sniff* the children.

Reading Sets You Free

Questions about why and how and when to fit in reading to an already overcrowded schedule deserve more time and wisdom than I’m able to give them here, but that hasn’t stopped me from anything else on this site, so…

First – I teach a non-tested subject in a district which has consistently prioritized literacy for over a decade. I have my kids read because I can. I never ever judge another teacher for doing what they think is best for their kids in their classroom, but I will try to make the case for you to consider rethinking the time you’re not dedicating to reading.  

OK, I might actually be judging you a little. But I assure you, I’ll do my best to hide it. 

Second – In my department, every class uses at least two novels or other ‘outside books’ (i.e., non-textbooks) per semester. Most of us use three or four. If you can’t do that, do one per semester. Different teachers in the department do it different ways – some read to their kids, others have them in small groups, etc. We struggle with the right balance between supporting the reading (previewing vocab, setting the scene, etc.), holding the kids accountable for reading (quizzes or small projects), and just leaving them alone to READ without always thinking of it as one more requirement to check off the list.

But we all read. Regularly. 

Connected KidThird – Reading supports content. ‘Going deep’ on a few key moments, issues, or individuals provides an ‘anchor’ in students historical understanding. It makes knowledge from before, during, and after that anchor ‘stickier’ – easier to understand, easier to remember. 

Fourth – Reading is good for them. It’s good for them long-term for a dozen reasons you know as well as I do. It’s good for them short-term because it helps them learn to focus and think in ways disrupted by modern conveniences and technology. I’m not anti-tech by any means, but our darlings need more practice than ever before committing to one linear task at a time. So do many of us.

Fifth – Reading has a chance of being enjoyable. I don’t want my kids to leave my class hating history for all the reasons many of my peers did years ago. History is so neato keen awesome swell strange, don’t you think? Novels increase the odds they’ll get a taste of that. Do you really think their test scores will be higher if they hate EVERYTHING they’re supposed to know, but in more detail?

Speaking of which…

Sixth – Reading increases test scores. I know, I know – we’re trying to pretend to be above such things. But how much of YOUR state test is reading comprehension? Even if it’s not, how many of your kids are missing stuff they shouldn’t miss because they can’t or won’t read the entire question, the provided excerpts, or whatever? 

Seventh – Reading is good for them. I know I said this one already, but it merits repeating. I realize every state has different pressures, and every district and building and classroom different challenges, but at some point we all signed up for this gig to help kids, right? I want to make it to retirement without getting in trouble as much as anyone, but if we’re not pushing for what’s best for our kids while we’re here, maybe we should bail now and go sell shoes or something where we’ll do less damage. 

There’s a discussion worth having about how to come up with books, etc. Feel free to email me if you’d like some ideas, but chances are you or those around you have a half-dozen things you could try if you decide it’s important to you. There are usually ways. That being said, I’m always happy to discuss – [email protected]

Oh – I almost forgot… THE CURRENT LIST!  

Snow Reading

RELATED POST: Training the Voices in Your Head

RELATED POST: John Wilkes Booth, Reader of Novels 

What IS An ‘Academic’ or ‘Historical’ Argument? (And What Is It NOT?)

There are essentially THREE types of writing we’re likely to do in school. I realize I’ve just dared purists out there to shake their little mechanical pencils at me and explain how really there are 17 distinct types of writing not counting Haiku or whatever, but I teach 9th Grade. So there are three.

Narrative Writing

Narrative Writing essentially tells a story. It can be real or imagined, or some combination of the two. It usually starts at the beginning, moves through the middle, and ends at the end. Most popular fiction is in narrative form, as are most movies. ‘History’ history books (U.S. History, Texas History, European History, etc.) tend to structure themselves as narratives. If I cared what you did over your summer vacation (I don’t), you’d tell me in narrative form as well.

There’s nothing wrong with a good narrative, but that’s not the kind of writing we’re working on right now.

Informational / Explanatory

Informative / Explanatory Writing is any type of writing which takes a collection of related, but often complicated, information and tries to organize and present it so that it makes sense. Most Biology textbooks don’t begin with “Once upon a time, there was a lonely protozoa in a pool of primordial ooze. One day, he decided he was bored and that it was time to split – literally…” They may begin with the foundations of biology, or why we study biology, or share a bit about the first people to demonstrate an interest in this particular science, etc., but it’s not chronological. Different books on the same subject may organize the same basic information in different ways and it still works. Math books, American Government books, or anything “For Dummies” are Informative/Explanatory.

When I have students do Quick-Writes, they’re usually informative/explanatory. That’s not the kind we’re talking about right now, however. That leaves…

Argumentative Writing

Argumentative Writing attemps to use facts and reason to support a point or an interpretation. It’s all logical and stuff.

But “argument” is a loaded word for many of our students. It’s what happens when a friend is mad at them, or when their boyfriend is about to break up with them. It’s what Mom & Dad do after they think you’re asleep – especially when Dad’s been ‘doing it’ again. It’s the entire plot of many “Reality TV” shows.

But in an academic context, argument isn’t a bad thing at all. In fact, it’s crazy beneficial. It’s how science is supposed to work – great minds doing research and writing papers primarily so other great minds can criticize and question everything about them and explain why they’re flawed or incomplete. It’s our preferred format for difficult legal questions, whether determining the constitutionality of a company policy or trying to figure out if you actually stole that car before or after the body was stuffed in the trunk.

And it’s how history and its interpretation(s) get sorted out. It’s why there can be a dozen different explanations for the Salem Witch Trials or Pickett’s Charge although the sum total of primary source material hasn’t changed drastically. Historians major and minor wrestle with the available information and argue their viewpoints using proof and reason (well, that’s how it’s supposed to work, anyway). Over time, concensus often emerges. If not, the process continues.

Argument Is Not...

Unlike scientists or politicians, historians are pure and without bias, seeking only the truth. We’re practically HOLY.

Effective Argument

When I tell students that ‘winning’ is not generally the goal of academic argument, they are understandably suspicious. This DOES sound a little too much like that “everyone’s special in their own way” and “no set of beliefs is any more or less workable or useful or true than any other random set of beliefs” feel-good tripe with which they’ve been harangued since birth – and which they can repeat back more easily than believe.

But it’s not meant in a touchy-feely way. A weak or stupid argument is still weak or stupid. An unsupported claim is still unsupported and will receive the belittling and hostility it deserves.

In academic argument, however, it is through analytical argument that we broaden our understanding of people, events, or issues. Take a look at this cartoon:

POV Cartoon

I like this cartoon by way of example because the facts are not in question. The girl in the bikini KNOWS she’s in a bikini, and the girl in the burqa KNOWS she’s in a burqa. Where they differ is in what to make of the available information. They disagree as to interpretation, and importance, of what they know.

Bikini Girl could certainly make an argument for her assertion regarding Burqa Girl’s culture. She could use logic and reason and bring in other information to support her case. Burqa Girl could do the same for her stand regarding Bikini Girl’s culture. Formulating each argument would help to clarify and strengthen the thinking of each, and might even expose weaknesses in their thinking just by going through the process.

But you know what would REALLY hone each argument? If they went to get coffee and discussed it – NOT simply to coddle one another and be all accepting, but to rationally and with open minds probe and argue and question and challenge one another’s assertions and interpretations. Neither may leave persuaded, but they may find their interpretations modified and their understanding broadened. A Venti of learning goodness, extra mocha.

That’s just an example, of course – I don’t really want it to HAPPEN in this case. I LIKE living in a cruel, male-dominated culture. Your outfit’s fine, honey. Don’t let anyone else, er… “oppress” you by telling you otherwise. You’re actually, um… proving your INDEPENDENCE by dressing that way. Shake it, modern girl, shake it.

You may remember this classic from Monty Python’s Flying Circus:

Hopefully it goes without saying that the customer was correct – that was NOT an argument. But at least that sketch was intended to be funny. This was intended to be policy analysis:

What was the subject? The main points? Anything?

None of these three panelists are stupid, although you wouldn’t know that from this clip. It’s getting increasingly difficult to distinguish policy discussions from reality TV. For example, this tense moment from the first Trump / Clinton Presidential Debate:

Perhaps it would be better to begin with written arguments, since that is after all the skill towards which we’re building.

Also, there’s less slapping.

RELATED PAGE: Looking at the Arguments of Others

RELATED POST: 10 Steps to a Decent Thesis (Coming Soon)

RELATED POST: Writing With Brownies In A Box

RELATED POST: Do We Really Know How to Teach Argument? (from MiddleWeb.com)

Writing With Brownies In A Box

TypingIf you ever want to have real fun, start talking about the ‘correct’ way to teach writing with any group of teachers. For serious fireworks, try it with AP History folks after you’ve all had a drink or two. Better you stick with safer, less provocative topics like abortion, religion, or the validity of comic books and superhero movies as cultural touchstones.

There are many good ways to write a decent argumentative (historical) essay, but even more ways to write a bad one. If there were only one ‘right’ way, we’d all teach it that way, students would all write them that way, and they’d all get 5’s on their AP exams and A’s on our semester tests. Wouldn’t that be swell?

But it’s not that straightforward. There are too many different types of prompts about too many different subjects, and often a wide range of possible approaches to even the most straightforward of the lot. Writing in the Histories (or the ‘social sciences,’ if you prefer) is a booger because really, you can’t boil it down to a set of steps or rules likely to apply in every situation for every prompt. On the other hand, many students need structure and some modeling in order to begin learning a new skill – especially one as potentially intimidating as outlining a historical essay.

Writing Argument

Here are some ways to approach historical writing – in this case, the ‘Argumentative Essay’. If you’re uncomfortable with so much structure and worried about students thinking they must eternally cram whatever they have to say into the same Jello mold, you’re absolutely right to worry. On the other hand, if you genuinely believe that with little guidance and armed with sufficient content knowledged, students need only be pointed the right direction and set free to wax convincing, you’re – what’s the word? oh, yes – delusional.

Just kidding. You may simply be overly idealistic. After all, you DID become a teacher.

Writing Bridge

So let’s talk about making brownies.

Few baked items in this mortal life are as tasty or straightforward as brownies. They’re one of the first things you learn to make as a child if you’re lucky enough to have an Easy-Bake Oven, or a mom. They’re just right for any social event which requires something nicer than store-bought cookies, but less labor-intensive than, say, homemade pie.

For anyone who bakes regularly, you don’t really even need to get overly hung up on specific instructions – if you can remember four or five basic ingredients, and know what ‘brownies’ are, you can make them at will. Heck, you can vary them endlessly with only minor adjustments – add walnuts, for example, or icing. OMG – mint!

Making Brownies

Unfortunately, not all of us are born with this skill, nor have we had occasion to develop it. When I try to just kinda… ‘bake’, it rarely turns out well. Kitchen Mess

Thanks to Adam Smith and a little greed, however, there are solutions:

Brownie Mix

What hath God baked?

Let’s zoom in on those instructions on the back of the box. Notice…

Brownie Instructions

They don’t MERELY tell me I’ll need two eggs. Just in case that’s a bit vague or unclear, THEY’VE INCLUDED A DRAWING OF TWO EGGS. Measurements for water and vegetable oil are similarly illustrated. When it’s time to preheat the oven, there’s a picture of the dial on the correct temperature. And when it’s done, both a VISUAL and TEXT warning that when something’s been in the oven for 20 minutes at 350° IT WILL BE HOT.

That’s how little they assume I’ll figure out on my own.

Is it insulting? Perhaps? Entirely necessary? Maybe not. But I can make brownies this way. Every Almost every time. They’re not original, amazing, or demonstrative of deeper baking – but they’re consistently pretty decent. That’s because I’ve followed instructions proven to work with the contents of most boxes like this one.

Sometimes I even add those walnuts I mentioned – WITHOUT EVEN ASKING PERMISSION. I’m a wild man in the kitchen, it seems. Gordon Ramsey, kiss my icing!

But… there IS one tiny little shortcoming to this system:

Not The Brownies

Sometimes I’m asked to make something other than brownies. Sometimes I’d prefer muffins, or cake, or even bagels. I can pour brownie mix into my muffin pan, and the results may be edible, but they’re not muffins. I can shape them like bagels or make several and pour it all into a cake pan, but the results are definitely not bagels or cake. I even tried adding candles and extra candy sprinkles.

It was just gross.

And yet, many of the same principles and ingredients I use to make brownies – even from a box – are in play when making muffins or other baked goods. The more things I learn to bake, the easier it is to vary them based on circumstances, need, or even my personal preferences. Ideally, then, even as I’m first learning to follow the steps demanded by Betty Crocker and her short-sighted, restrictive ilk, I notice certain patterns and common practices and the roles of various ingredients.

If I’m in a really good school kitchen, maybe someone who’s proficient at baking explains along the way why you add salt to chocolate chip cookies but not chocolate chip muffins, or prompts me to speculate why different temperatures would be required at different altitudes.

Summer DessertsEventually I can move from instructions on the box to recipes for which I gather the ingredients myself. Over time, who knows? Maybe I can go all crazy and try something on my own, based on what I’ve learned. If it works, great! If not, I’ll evaluate what went wrong – ask for help if necessary – and try again with adjustments.

If my goal is a gig in the kitchen at Merritt’s, my ability to follow the directions on the brownie box won’t cut it. If serious baking is in my future, I’m going to have to do better.

But when I’m 12, or just not that into baking, there’s no shame in structure. In fact, any confectionery chef who discovers I’m using the box and throws a horrified fit because that’s NOT how one CULINATES, just comes across as a snob and a bit of an ass. On the other hand, the cakemaster who lends a hand, begins offering insights and tips and helps me build my skills and understanding, well…

I think I just let a tiny bit of my middle school teacher defensiveness show through on that segment of the analogy. My bad.

As I lead my darlings through the basics of writing a historical (argumentative) thesis, we speak of ‘defaults’ and ‘tools’. Because I actually communicate with the English Department, I can refer regularly to what my students have been told in that OTHER writing class, and explain which parts are similar and which are different – and why. (It’s like we’re all wanting the same overall success for our kids – is that even allowed?) We discuss how Calibri 11 with one inch margins and 8.5″ x 11″ paper with ‘portrait’ orientation works as a ‘default’ pretty well for so many different situations, but how easy they are to change as necessary – and how that’s like the structure we’re going to use for writing. 

They’re tools, not rules. Structure, not stricture. Sometimes fences set us free, baby. Kites soar highest when someone’s holding the string. Fly-iy-iy, Freebird… (guitar solo).

Gymnastics Scaffolding

You practice various plays the way they’re drawn up, but come game time the ‘right’ place is to wherever the ball happens to be – NOT where the whiteboard says it was supposed to go. You march and play based on the tempo the Drum Major is actually directing and line up with your actual lines rather than the hashtags on the field. You catch the girl underneath wherever her flip takes her – you don’t let her hit the mat while your arms are locked in the exact spot they were in practice only a few hours ago. You write to the prompt you have, not the prompt you wish you’d been given.

None of which invalidates running the drills or practicing with the marked locations. It’s all about scaffolding and tools and learning and getting better – just like everything else in school is supposed to be. Zone of Proximal Development, baby – keep the harness on until they can do the flip without breaking their neck. Er… metaphorically speaking. It’s not so very difficult to make sure they understand the goal is for the harnesses, the limits which help give you structure, to come off. Soon.

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Write, Forrest! Write! 

I realize I get carried away on this one, but the important thing is to recognize that young writers need structure just to move forward. At the same time, we must continuously insist that structure is temporary, and not the goal. The goal is whatever’s required by the prompt – brownies, muffins, cake, or lasagna.

Now we need to talk about what exactly we mean by ‘Historical Argument’…

RELATED POST: What IS An ‘Academic’ or ‘Historical’ Argument? (And What Is It NOT?)

RELATED PAGE: Looking at the Arguments of Others

RELATED POST: In Defense of the 5-Paragraph Essay

Training the Voices In Your Head (Slightly Less Awkward Practice)

A slightly less awkward way to promote awareness of those ‘inner voices’ is to use a movie clip of some sort as our temporary substitute for a reading selection. We’ll watch a bit of it, then stop and practice some of the types of questioning and thinking we want to inculcate in our reading voices as well. Ideally it’s something high-interest but which most of them haven’t seen before.

Let’s start with this:

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I choose random people around the room and ask things like…

What’s any question you have about this clip or anything in it so far? (If you have none, pretend you do and ask that one instead.) {We always start with this and do at least 3 or 4 people.}

What does this remind you of – in history, fiction, movies, your personal life, anything? In what way? {Keep prodding until you get a couple of different responses.}

What’s the mood of this excerpt so far? How do you know? {Dramatic? Humorous? Action? Scary? Dry?}

What’s going to happen next? {I like to wrap up each ‘color thinking’ segment with 3 or 4 of these predictions.}

OK, let’s see if any of our questions are answered or how we did with our predictions:

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We repeat the process, making sure to include students who haven’t participated yet. I vary my prodding as seems appropriate, but try to avoid ‘leading’ answers – I’m not needing them to be ‘correct’ about anything; I’m wanting them to practice interacting with the ‘text’ (which in this case, is a movie clip).

If you didn’t do so the first time, you should answer some of these yourself before moving on. Make some predictions and such. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. 

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More ‘color commentary’ type prodding.

This is a good time to remind participants or students that what we’re doing is very much like what we should be doing when we read. When we’re genuinely interested in something, we do this anyway – sometimes out loud. It’s why old people don’t like to be in theaters with teenagers, or why you (er… or rather, why this one guy you know) accidentally threw buffalo wings across the room because SOME people can’t seem to hold on to the ball even when it’s a CRITICAL 4TH DOWN and it hits you RIGHT IN THE NUMBERS!!! It’s what’s fun about watching singing or sex partner competitions together – you question, predict, challenge, associate – both internally and with one another.

The more boring, difficult, or tedious a reading assignment is, the more important it is to PRACTICE interacting with it in this way so we can become more effective at understanding, processing, and remembering it. The more we PRETEND to be super-interested, the more kinda-sorta-interested we’ll manage to be. The better we get at understanding and analyzing what we read, boring or not, the less we’ll hate it and the more we’ll remember – meaning less time spent forcing ourselves and more time spent just reading it and ‘getting’ it.

At least that’s the goal. Last clip:

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You may, of course, use something more educational as your sample. I’m a fan of learning new skills with non-threatening material – either something fun or something review-ish.Ideally we then learn new content with comfortable skills – stuff we at least kinda already know how to do.

You could, for example, immediately follow this exercise with a passage of some sort which you actually care about, broken into appropriately-sized ‘chunks’. After each chunk, they could ‘interact’ – either with each other, as a class, or on paper. Eventually this builds into annotations, dialectic journals, Cornell notes, or whatever.

Thinking Out Loud

At this stage, however – if we’re truly interesting in building a long-term, universally meaningful reading skill – it’s probably better to cover less and really ‘own’ it than to blow through more and not truly retain any of it. Better to practice often than long, in this case.

Or so I’d respectfully propose.

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