“Reading on the Blind Side”: The First Day of Class

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Image Courtesy of Browning Website: Browning.com

I’ve been a teacher for ten years. I think I am growing into my own as a literacy expert and a sort of consultant on topics regarding readers and reading. But it is only until just recently that I have really learned how to read a room, how to read a reader.

How to look for the “blind.”

I’m not a brand-conscious person by nature. I don’t look to see who is wearing Ralph Lauren or American Eagle or Holister on the first day of school. But I will look for the profile of the buck shown above.

In the field of reading with non-readers (or pre-readers), I have found this logo on the chest in a direct access to the heart of one who hasn’t thought through entirely the role that a book might play in his or her life.

Unlike the logo shown above, the t-shirts worn by my students do not have the Browning name underneath, relying instead upon the sort of code that is communicated by the iconic logo.

Those who see it know it. They recognize it. They slip into a language that is foreign to me. But, I know as soon as I see the logo, where this reader spends his or her weekend in the fall.

In the blind.

And so it was. . .on the first day of school. . .that a most respectful young man who insisted on calling me “Sir” during our interactions appeared in the front row of Room 407. During the initial question and response portion of the class, his hand went up with earnest as he identified as a struggling reader, a non-reader, and one who has often employed “innocent but unethical approaches” to the reading management programs of which he has been a part.

There was the logo. And so was the life.

While passing out papers, moving up and down the row, I asked the young man about hunting. I had him. He told me about processing and making jerky and steaks and the pride of putting a large deer on a mount, a mark of pride for any hunter.

This is not manipulation. This is conversation. We have begun the conferring process on the first day of class. I scoped him out from the front of the room. The non-reader was in my sights. All I had to do was quietly lead him where I could get a good shot at putting a book in his hand.

As I got ready to move to another row, I told him about a young man from last year’s class who eventually began taking books out to the blind on the weekend. I told him that young man had read over fifty books by the end of the year. I could see the young man’s eyes widen at the prospect of reading at this level.

Do you see it? I used an example of a reader who looked more like this young man than looked like me. I made another reader the attraction that kept the non-reader in his place, beginning to believe that if he was of the same hide, the same heart, and the same hunt, then he could see himself being successful in the field in which I was inviting him to walk, to look around, and to graze safely.

And I had positive movement. You watch for this from my position. And up and down motion wherein the chin touches the chest is a sort of affirmation and appreciation of what is being said. Movement from side to side with the chin touching alternate shoulder signifies a denial. And. . .in some cases the subject will bolt from the area.

I finished passing out papers. The whole class watched–along with me–the videos produced by Penny Kittle with her students wherein they show, most vividly, how many books they have read prior to entering into her classroom and her expertise as a book lover and guide. At the end of the video, her students turn over the cards that have their number then and his or her new number now. It’s really something to see.

It’s like a simulated hunt for readers that you watch with the same degree of interest that one might watch a master fisherman on the weekend.

At the end of the class the young man said, “Mr. Hankins. . .I’ve been thinking. Taking a book to the blind wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’ve never thought of it. Can you recommend a book I might take?”

It’s always a thrill when you bring a non-reader in, isn’t it? You just want to ride around with them all day in the back of some truck taking all of the rough trails of a new journey, the switchback trails of plot, the rises and the ditches of a new conflict, and the calm of an evening in the completion of a day’s reading.

Ahh. . .the language. The life.

On the wall mount of my happiest classroom memories are the non-readers who came into the room and left with the idea that they can be part of clubs that are specialized with their own language and life. . .

. . .and enter into a life with its own special language. . .

and an ever-growing club.

Someone should make a t-shirt.

2 thoughts on ““Reading on the Blind Side”: The First Day of Class

  1. What a gift to find this in the early morning of my last day of summer. Tomorrow I’ll begin a new journey as I return to teach in my hometown. I’m coming from the affluent, privileged, reading side of the county. Dynamic library in the school, Kindles and Ipads abound, and public library across the street. I’m going home to a town that built its first public library two years ago. But I’m being given back the gift of the language arts block where I’ll have my precious TIME again. Time to take my kids on that reading journey. Back to school night was filled with camo. We’re 65% free and reduced lunch. I’m now the minority demographic and we have 80 ESL students on a campus of less than 500 kids. But they are mine now. My first class of the day is the 8th graders who did not pass their 7th grade state reading assessment. My heart is so full. They are mine. And together we’ll find our way to becoming readers. Thank you for your words.

  2. Well done! Over the last 20 years, I’ve seen many teen obsessions come and go, but hunting is consistently present, and truly represents the student who would rather be outdoors than in a classroom. You’re right–it’s an amazing first step when we can suggest that the setting and the act of reading don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Thanks for helping me refocus as yet another new year starts in “8th Grade Land.”

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