Showing posts with label Reading the Word. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reading the Word. Show all posts

7.01.2008

Reflection: Critical Literacy Finds a "Place": Writing and Social Action in a Low-Income Australian Grade 2/3 Classroom

I was inspired by the progress of the second and third graders in Marg Wells' classroom.  I think it's really important to remember that to ignore a problematic, normalized way of thinking only serves to continue the marginalization of those who have already been oppressed within society.  I loved how Wells initated her literacy and social power unit simply by asking students to draw or write about:
  • the best things in their lives
  • what made them happy, anxious, or angry
  • their three wishes
  • what they might change about their community if they could
  • whether or not they felt they had the power to make a difference
This article is helping me formulate a plan for building social awareness within my classroom.  Throughout the last few weeks, I've been trying to piece together a plan for bringing social action into the classroom.  I think it's important to remember that we need to teach students that they have issues that are hiding in their lives, and this is a tangible way for them to access those issues.  I love the way Wells designed her unit 'on the fly,' uniting her students for one universal cause.  Her students were acquiring knowledge, rather than just receiving it; they were invested within a meaningful, interdisciplinary, real-world learning experience.

This is my plan of action:
  • Ask my students to express their worries.
  • Identify a thematic concern across the class.
  • Provide practical resources for authentic research.
  • Discuss the class findings and the implications for further study.
  • Ask questions; then ask broader questions (move from personal to communal, to global issues).
  • Collect more information, exploring all avenues of social action reform
  • Ask, "Who has power?  Who is silenced?  How does this affect US?"
  • Critically analyze collected data
  • Brainstorm alternative solutions
  • Present solutions to those within the position of power.  
References:
Comber, B. & Thomson, M.  Critical Literacy Finds a "Place":  Writing and Social Action in a Low-Income Australian Grade 2/3 Classroom.  The Elementary School Journal, University Press of Chicago 2001.

The Good Girl: A Critical Examination of My Own Writing

“Your daughter is so well-behaved.” That’s what people tell my mom. Teachers, babysitters, friends, family members… everyone notices how good I am. I’ve always been the reliable kid; the one that does exactly what she is told to do. But the truth is that in my life, I’ve just always been too good.

Like last week, when I didn’t want to bother the teacher by tattling on Brian Hartley for pinching my arm at recess- even though it left a purple bruise. Or how I don’t want to hurt my grandpa’s feelings by complaining that he buys the wrong kind of peanut butter. My best friend, Becky, ALWAYS bosses me around, but I would never think to tell her off. I was even too good to cry when Mom said we had to give Woofer away, because, “This is now a single-parent household and there’s no time for a dog.” What people never tell you is that sometimes, being good is the pits.

So today, as I sat in the back of Mrs. Friedman’s class, it occurred to me that maybe it doesn’t always pay to be so good.
Gazing around the room, I rested my chin in my hand. I looked up towards the front row of desks, where the bad kids sit. James was twisting a paper clip into a tiny sculpture, hands hidden inside his enormous desk. Mrs. Friedman perched by the blackboard correcting homework: a great eagle guarding over her nest of second graders. I listened to the gentle click of the minute hand on our classroom clock, as dusty October sunlight streamed in through the windows. Becky sighed, to my left. School is boring.

Allison pretended to work on addition and subtraction word problems as she urgently whispered my name. “Abby! Hey, Abby! Look what I’ve got!” I looked towards my right. Dramatically opening her palm, she revealed what she clearly thought to be The World’s Greatest Treasure. “My mom got me this!” She stared down at a rectangular object, her eyelashes creating tiny shadows at the tops of her cheeks. Rooted to my seat, I inspected what seemed to be the largest crayon I had ever seen. It was a thick block of multi-colored wax: perfectly formed for an eight-year old’s fingers.

I imagined what it might be like to draw with it. Mom dropped me off at the YMCA daycare before school each morning, and usually, I was the first kid there. We’d wait outside in her blue Toyota for the building’s lights to come on while it was still dark, getting there early enough so that she could drive to the East Norwalk train station and catch the 7:07 train to Grand Central. What this meant for me, is that I’d be dumped off into a room that smelled of sour milk and graham crackers, with nothing to do but compose pictures and designs on my sketchpad.

I sucked in my breath and dreamed of using this crayon to create the most beautiful arcs and lines: red-orange-green-purple-blue, with one fell swoop. I imagined the pictures that I could send to Dad: rainbow houses, rainbow people, rainbow hearts. “Can I hold it?” Allison shook her head, smugly. No. Becky looked at me. “That’s selfish. You should share,” she quietly scolded. I nodded in agreement. Becky always knew the right thing to say. I watched as she settled back into her seat and crossed her ankles, in way that only she could pull off: showing both pity and disgust for all of us around her. “I said no!” Allison said, more loudly. I looked towards Mrs. Friedman. She sat in a shabby brown chair, red correcting pen in hand. “Allison! If you’re talking so much, you must be finished. Come up here and bring me the work that you’ve done.” Allison lovingly put the crayon away. I watched as she set it inside of her desk. It was on top of a blue spelling workbook, like an island of wax. She gave it one last glance and shuffled up to the teacher’s big metal desk. “No, no… weren’t you listening? When you subtract across zeroes… “

I tried to get back to my word problems.
Michael has 16 baseball cards. Ellen collected 8 baseball cards. How many cards to they have all together?
Visions of the crayon danced before my eyes. I imagined yards and yards of blank white paper. I saw our refrigerator at home, littered with the glorious artwork that could only be created with this one, perfect instrument. I crossed my arms and stared past my desk. Why should Allison be so lucky? What did she need it for? She doesn’t even draw that well. It isn’t fair.
I sighed, thinking about how after school, I’d have to sit in that smelly daycare room with nothing to do but draw. Allison could go home and do whatever she wanted.

Becky’s freckled nose pointed downwards as she diligently worked on her math. Allison’s seat was still empty. The crayon sat in plain view. It gleamed. I’ve never stolen anything before. My heartbeat quickened with just the thought of what I could possibly do. My head bent over a still-unfinished worksheet, I looked up furtively to see if anyone was watching. Becky was right: Allison was selfish indeed. And I was finished with being so good.
I flexed my fingers, and suddenly, I wasn’t afraid. My hand flew inside Allison’s desk. I closed my fingers around the crayon. It felt tacky, still warm from its true owner’s hand. I pulled my arm back to my body. It moved as if underwater, slowly. I stared at the foreign wrist, the forearm. I felt like I was watching myself from miles away. I stared down at the crayon- in another person’s fist, not mine. But it was in my hand, and for one moment, I felt an exhilarated sense of freedom. I’d done something I never thought I could. I stole it. Me! I had wanted something, so I’d taken it, plain and simple, and now, I’d be forever changed.

After what felt like hours, Allison returned. I pretended to be busy with my math problems as I watched her through my eyelashes. She looked inside her desk, and I waited. A beat. Two beats... She didn’t say, “Where’s my crayon?” She didn’t shout, “Somebody took it!” She didn’t raise her hand to tell the teacher, and she didn’t ask me or Becky what had happened. She shuffled about inside her desk for a few moments. “Miss Coleman! Stop dawdling and get to work!” We all jumped at Mrs. Friedman’s rasp.

Head down, Allison’s shoulders shook. When she eventually looked up, I saw the shiny path where one single tear had been.
In that moment, I really looked at her. She had always been bigger than the rest of us. Her frizzy brown hair was cut like a boy’s, and sometimes, substitute teachers even referred to her as such. Allison’s clothes were far from in style. While second grade girls knew how cool it was to wear slip-on Keds, she was always stuck wearing dirty white Reeboks. Today had been the first time I’d ever heard her mention her mother. I wondered whom else she lived with, at home.

A wave of nausea crept over me. I felt the crayon burning in my hand, and that heat traveled up my arms, shoulders, and neck. My cheeks burned with the shame of what I had done. Mrs. Friedman would surely know, with just one glance in my direction. And Allison would know, too. The bell rang for lunch. “Line order!” commanded Mrs. Friedman. I hung back, pretending to tie my shoe. I studied each lace as my classmates filed out of the room. When I looked up, the space was silent, big, and empty. I took the crayon out of my desk and looked at it again. It was both beautiful and ugly. The wax had barely any grooves on the surface from Allison’s fingernails. Only one tiny edge was slightly worn down. It had clearly been well-loved. I swallowed. My greediness had turned me into someone I didn’t want to be. Someone that steals, and hurts people. Somebody bad. Head hanging low, I slipped the crayon back to where it belonged, and headed for the cafeteria.

Reflection:

As a result of this course, I've been thinking about literacy in a very different light.  I have been reading new print and non-print texts with a lens for social justice and perspective; and my thoughts have changed significantly regarding texts that I've read before.  Within my reflections over the course of this semester, I have considered the printed texts that were used in my classroom this year.  

I have a passion for teaching writing, and within this practice, I regularly present my own work as a model for my students.  In October, I began a unit on personal narratives.  I used "The Good Girl" to model every step of my writing process.  By the time my students had published their narratives, they had learned mine by heart.  I've read this piece countless times, but when I approached the text again, I began to see possibilities that I hadn't previously considered.  In the story, I refer to James, who is twisting a paper clip in his hands, and sitting in the front row with the rest of the 'bad kids.'  His voice is missing here, and a reader may understand this part to mean, 'boys are bad.'  He's spacing out rather than working, so the reader may perceive this to mean, 'boys aren't smart,' or 'kids who misbehave aren't smart.'  In reality, I probably imagined that James was acting up because he was always considered to be academically gifted; consequently, he often exhibited boredom if he was not challenged enough.  The reader would not know this because James is silenced within the context of the story.  

Even more alarmingly, I realize that this narrative accepts the mainstream notion that stealing is wrong, therefore condemning those who steal to be classified as 'bad.'  Cadence's story in Living Poverty and Literacy Learning by Stephanie Jones resonated with me.  I need to be cognizant of the fact that some, if not many of my students have parents, older siblings, or extended family whom have stolen something at one time or another.  Jones refers to students who are, "forced to judge their own families"(464).  The acceptance of this text may have serious academic and emotional impacts for the reader whose school Discourse is secondary.  This is too big a load for any child to handle.  

I do intend on using this narrative within the course of my future teaching, but in doing so, I will ask my students to consider the following:  

  •  What groups are represented here?
  •  What does the text want us to believe about those groups? 
  •  For whom or where in the story is this belief true?
  •  For whom in the story is this belief not true?
  •  Who benefits from this idea in the story, and in the world? 
  •  What are the alternatives?
References:
Jones, Stephanie; Living Poverty and Literacy Learning:  Sanctioning Topics of Students' Lives.  Language Arts; July 2004

6.29.2008

Response to Just Girls

While reading Just Girls by Margaret J. Finders, I am situated as a person who for most purposes, shares a mainstream Discourse, and who has experienced female adolescence; two prominent aspects of this study. My own middle school years in Connecticut were reminiscent of the researcher’s observations: dominated by social divides, and flooded with the artifacts of a literate underlife, hidden from and unsanctioned by adults. According to Finders, “We can hardly cast blame on the social queens, who were doing exactly what we have been training girls to do: to find their place in society largely through romance and commodities”(p.125). Does the institution of junior high school perpetuate gender stereotypes? Based on my personal experiences, in conjunction with those of Angie, Tiffany, and Lauren; I support Finders’ argument that it does. The majority of our media conveys the message to young girls that their value is determined by how physically attractive they are to men. Northern Hills Junior High School, along with my junior high alma mater, seemed to foster what Freire and Macedo refer to as, “a culture of silence,” in which female adolescents were allowed to remain defined by the standards that mainstream media set upon them (p. 159). Furthermore, many of the hidden literate practices (which magnified a sense of self based on sexuality) were forced upon these girls by the context of junior high school. According to Finders, although the adolescents were repeatedly lectured about responsibility and independence, their school days were composed of, “constricted time, movement, and talk” (p.129). It is no wonder that the social queens revolted against these constrictions, studying ‘teen zines which, based on my own critical reading, intend to collectively glorify a limited definition of beauty and appeal as a means of self-worth.

The girls placed themselves into specific social groups, dependent upon their economic resources and the normalized beliefs they were given. Membership within these groups encouraged gender inequities. Many well-known ‘teen’ movies had been released within the relative time period of this study, normalizing high school as a place where attractive teenage girls (as determined by media) belonging to higher socioeconomic groups separated themselves from those with little money, and therefore less opportunity to purchase the commodities that society demanded. Did the teachers at Northern Hills adopt this prevalent concept dictated by pop culture, and therefore inadvertently reinforce those expectations through the language used in the classroom? This question remains unanswered.

Finders also argues that through their own modeling, female teachers only offered the role of nurturer to adolescent girls (p. 123). This rings true. While most of the students, parents and administrators that I have encountered highly value a nurturing teacher, isn’t it more beneficial to drive our students to be passionate about their world? I would hope that my own future children receive instruction from teachers who give them the tools to recognize hidden social injustices and react appropriately, rather than teachers who lead them to believe that ‘everything is O.K.’ As educators, we cannot continue to teach our students to passively accept the limited, and often degrading roles that mainstream society offers them. I believe that simply facilitating classroom discussion around a text is a means by which we establish ourselves more as referees, rather than teachers of literacy. There is no instruction here, and left to fend for themselves, students will at best circulate and regurgitate the biased viewpoints of the author. The solution is to ask guiding questions that help students find the tools needed for higher order thinking, within which girls are given the opportunity to ask themselves where they are positioned as a result of the texts they encounter. Female teachers, based on their gender, magnify the role of nurturer through limited instruction; however, aren’t male teachers just as likely to make the same mistake? After reading Just Girls, I was left wondering whether the dynamics of the of the classroom setting changed for girls who received language arts instruction from males. If a man demonstrates to students that he is ‘nurturing,’ how do boys receive this message, and how does this affect the shifting selves of adolescent girls in terms of classroom interactions?

I’m not certain it’s fair for Finders to make the generalization that boys were taught, “the role of girls is to serve them,” therefore making them the more powerful of the sexes (p.125). The perspectives privileged within Just Girls are those of the tough cookies, the social queens, and a relatively small number of teachers and parents. In class recently, after the group presentation based on the work by Taylor, Lori remarked, “the researcher can’t be everywhere.” Among the voices marginalized within Finders’ text are those belonging to adolescent boys. A focus on their perspectives may have revealed alternative truths regarding the manner in which stereotypes within the classroom are cultivated, or which social groups are victimized by them. For example, rather than assuming a role of power over girls, the boys within this study (many of whom demonstrated a competitive nature within their yearbook signings) may have been subordinated based on their failure to ‘win,’ academically, athletically, or romantically; but this avenue was not explored.

Regardless of this, I am well aware of the obstacles that women alone must face, and am deeply disturbed by the concept that these social injustices actually gain momentum within the classroom as a result of the instruction by teachers who may only have the best of intentions. Reflecting upon my past five years of teaching, it saddens me to realize that I have not always effectively guided my upper elementary-aged students to challenge gender biases presented within their texts. How many other educators have disregarded the teaching of critical literacy in the moments that children need it the most?

Along the lines of Macedo and Freire’s movement for an emancipatory pedagogy (p.159), Finders advocates for classroom discussion that breaks the silence regarding topics of difficulty and dissent (p.126). Keeping in mind that Just Girls was published over ten years ago, I wonder how modern technology might motivate this kind of dialogue. I personally have felt much more comfortable sharing my thoughts and ideas in small groups and on our course blog throughout this semester, rather than within a whole group forum. Considering the insecurities that adolescent girls must grapple with as a result of the roles cast upon them, I think a web-based discussion group maintained by the classroom teacher might drive our students to ‘speak.’ This also leads me to presume that the dynamics of girls’ hidden literacies have changed drastically, in the era of MySpace, Facebook, and text messaging. Now girls have access to creating and receiving instant digital ‘notes’ and ‘graffiti.’ Has this heightened the problem? Or has it provided a space for all students to express themselves, therefore erasing social divides?

This sort of discussion, enabling students to cross standardized boundaries, is a stark contrast to the teacher preparatory instruction that I received six years ago from a Masters’ program. This celebrated the ‘positive learning environment,’ within which the teacher facilitates discussions to promote the impression of comfort and safety for all students. In my own practice, I am learning that sometimes, discussion should be uncomfortable. It should move our children forward in the realization that while we live in a place that claims equal opportunity for all, we regularly encounter a variety of texts, which incessantly push some of us down while raising others up. This critical literacy needs to be taught beginning at even the earliest stages of education, therefore providing adolescents an innate sense of perspective, which will serve to protect them against the dangers of controlled self-perception.




References

Finders, M. J. (1997). Just Girls: Hidden Literacies and Life in Junior High. New York, NY . Teachers College Press.

Freire, P. & Macedo, D. (1987). Literacy: Reading the Word and the World. Westport, CT. Greenwood Publishing Group.

What Motivates Your Students to Read?

My fourth graders and I were in the library recently, when I spotted one of my favorite books on display: The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick. It’s a huge, thick book that none of my students ever picked up, probably based on its overwhelming size. It isn’t too long of a read, though, because half of the story is told by illustration. I grabbed the book and sat down at a table, lost in the story. One of my girls (an advanced ELL who claims not to love reading) sat down beside me, curious. She took out the book from the library, and had finished it within three days. The book traveled with her almost everywhere throughout the school, she even read while walking through the hallways. Her devotion intrigued some of my other students- and before she was finished, there was a ‘line’ for who would read it next.

I think that there were a few motivating forces here… in class yesterday, someone made a comment about how amazed students are when they see that teachers have reading lives, too. I agree, and think that this is particularly important for elementary-aged students, possibly of a non-mainstream Discourse, who may not realize that reading isn’t just ’school work.’ Peer influence is also a major motivation. I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love right now, which I originally had no interest in- but wanted to see what all the fuss was about! Based on word-of-mouth, my students inadvertently began their own book club. Lastly, I think the “coolness” factor of the book drove that group of students to read it. The thickness of the text makes it look more advanced than it actually is, and my students had an air of accomplishment when they each had finished it.

On a somewhat unrelated note, I’ve had some trouble with one ELL student in particular this year. Even though I've conferred with him about picking a just right book, he continues to chose texts based on their thickness- even though they are way too advanced (like Eragon or Harry Potter). Although he can decode fairly well, the meanings to many of the words are lost to him. I think he does’t want to be seen reading books that are on his level. Has anyone else had this problem?

A Critical Reading of "Number the Stars:" Protective Censorship


“What should be in a Holocaust library for children? In the best of worlds there would be nothing, for in a child’s world a Holocaust would never happen… but the Holocaust occurred, and for the sake of the future, as well as to remember the past, we want to teach children about it, in the hope that in remembering horror and in searching for the wisdom to understand it, we may assure that it will not happen again.” –Claire Rudin, Librarian.

The booming popularity of historical fiction over the past few decades has given educators a powerful tool with which to teach history. Good historical fiction can transport a child from their desk into another world. Through these texts, children can live vicariously and ‘remember’ our past through a fictional character’s eyes. According to Kiefer et al, “Historical novels for children help a child to experience the past- to enter into the conflicts, the suffering, the joys, and the despair of those who lived before us”(542). This statement communicates how significant such texts can be for a child, but with this comes great responsibility: the author must express candid representations of the past, and the teacher must select poignant, meaningful texts to present to her students. As a result of the unspeakable crimes committed against humanity during World War II, authoring and sponsoring such literature for children dealing with this period can raise controversy. Parents and educators may decide that certain Holocaust novels are too graphic, which in turn will “hasten the end of innocence”(Rudin, 1). There is a great deal of Holocaust literature for children to choose from while helping students cope with this history. Number the Stars by Lois Lowry is one such text. Winner of the Newbery award in 1990, it is widely used in classrooms as a teaching tool for this era. Contrary to the belief that Number the Stars reveals a clear picture of Denmark’s prevailing struggles throughout the Holocaust, Lowry censors specific components of the text, leaving the child reader with little understanding of essential truths concerning this tragic time in history.

According to Bosmajian, “the sparing, the protective censoring and intentional limiting of the reader’s understanding, becomes ever more problematical the more a narrative claims verisimilitude”(xiv). Clearly, we comprehend Number the Stars as fictional, and the history that is revealed within this novel is accurate. The problem lies, however, with what Lowry does not reveal. This book is intended for children ages ten through fourteen, many of which may have little background knowledge within the history of World War II. Through the eyes of ten-year-old Annemarie Johansen, this text depicts the Danish resistance of occupying Nazis in 1943 and the smuggling of nearly 7,000 Jews to safety in Sweden. Fear and a constant threat of harm are running themes throughout the narrative, however, Lowry never fully develops the atrocities committed by Nazis or the sufferings of Jews.

It is clear how Annemarie’s life has changed since Denmark’s beloved King, Christian X, surrendered to Germany: food shortages and curfews have been inflicted upon the Danish, and cruel soldiers are often stationed at street corners. At one point, Annemarie notices that the button shop owned by Mrs. Hirsch is closed, and a German sign is displayed in the window. Lowry writes, “where was Mrs. Hirsch? The Hirsch family had gone somewhere. Why else would they close the shop?”(21). The only clarification given to Annemarie (and the reader), occurs when Peter tells her, “For some reason, they want to torment Jewish people. It has happened in other countries. They have taken their time here- have let us relax a little. But now it seems to be starting”(24). The mystery as to what happened to the Hirsch family is never resolved within this novel. In addition, the vague wording leaves the child reader mystified as to why and how Jewish people are ‘tormented,’ or what exactly has occurred in surrounding European countries.

This censorship occurs again, when Annemarie discovers that Ellen will be staying with her family while her parents go into hiding. Her father explains that the Nazis have taken the synagogue lists with the intent of arresting all of the Danish Jews. When Annemarie doesn’t understand, he goes on to say, “We don’t know where, and we don’t really know why. They call it ‘relocation.’ We don’t even know what that means. We only know that it is wrong, and it is dangerous, and we must help”(36). This is a lost opportunity for Lowry to communicate exactly what dangers are faced by the Rosens. In giving Annemarie’s father limited knowledge concerning the Holocaust, Lowry so limits the meaning gained by her readers. The ambiguity of the term “relocation” is amplified later in the novel when Mama uses it to describe Denmark’s loss of food supply to the Nazis. She and her daughters laughed as they “pictured a mound of frightened butter under military arrest”(69). This leads to little conclusive evidence of the actual ‘relocation’ of Jews, in which they were sent to concentration camps to become dehumanized, facing hard labor and death.

Lowry edits the full story of the Holocaust in Number the Stars in two ways: first, as shown in the previous examples, she keeps her characters ignorant of the happenings in their world- regardless of the underground newspaper and other communications with Peter of the Resistance. Her second form of censorship becomes more apparent towards the end of the novel, when characters knowingly restrict information on the pretenses of keeping each other safe. Annemarie suspects that she is lied to by her mother, father, and Uncle Henrik throughout this story. This is addressed when Uncle Henrik says, “You shouldn’t know this. You remember that I told you it was safer not to know…I will tell you just a little, because you were so very brave”(122). Lowry’s readers are learning about the Holocaust through Annemarie’s eyes. In telling her so little, the child reader comprehends little as well. According to MacLeod, “even highly respected authors snip away the less attractive pieces of the past to make their narratives meet current social and political preferences”(30). This is a narrative based soley on the experiences of the people of Denmark, including those who fought in resistance to the Nazis. Under such censorship, how can Annemarie Johansen or the reader fully comprehend the loss of Peter and Lise? Both of these characters lost their lives fighting for freedom and human rights, however, this can not be truly felt or appreciated as Lowry’s novel gives little evidence of Hitler’s murder campaign, which caused the deaths of over six million innocent people by the end of World War II. In her afterword, Lowry discusses the many truths illustrated throughout her work. She states, “Peter Neilsen, though he is fictional, represents those courageous and idealistic young people, so many of whom died at the hands of the enemy”(136). To the reader, this enemy is largely a hidden entity.

It is understandable that authors of Holocaust literature for children carefully pick and choose the information that their work will reveal. Keeping this in mind, Brabham notes, “the social and political conditions that led human beings to the Holocaust must be examined by present and future generations if intolerance is to be understood and controlled and if genocide is to be eliminated”(5). Lois Lowry’s Number the Stars is an eloquently written text for young readers, which does illuminate life in Denmark in 1943. Classroom teachers should remain cognizant, however, that this novel does not clearly illustrate the entire picture and therefore should not be used as the primary text in Holocaust studies. While the missing truths from Lowry’s work may be unpleasant and difficult for our students to grasp, it is vital that students do realize the full horror of the Holocaust. If we only provide historical fiction that presents this tragedy with a sunnier view, the meaning of it will be lost, and humanity will eventually forget… leaving us vulnerable to suffering the same mistakes again.




References

Brabham, Edna Greene. “Holocaust Education: Legislation, Practices, and Literature for Middle-School Students.” The Social Studies, v88. 139-142.

Bosmajian, Hamida. Sparing the Child: Grief and the Unspeakable in Youth Literature about Nazism and the Holocaust. London: Routledge, 2002.

Kiefer, Barbara, Hickman, Janet, and Hepler, Susan. Charlotte Huck’s Children’s Literature. McGraw-Hill Humanities, 9th Edition. 2006.

Macleod, Anne S. (1998). “Writing backward: Modern models in historical fiction.” The Horn Book Magazine, 74(1). 26-33.

Rudin, Claire. “Children’s Books about the Holocaust: A Selective Annotated Bibliography.” Holocaust Resource Center and Archives, Bayside, NY: 1998. http://www.holocaust-trc.org/chldbook.htm

6.28.2008

A Critical Reading of "Dizzy"


Dizzy, written by Jonah Winter, was illustrated by Sean Qualls and published on October 1, 2006. Intended for children in grades three through eight, Dizzy is a biographical picture book which tells the story of the life of John Birks “Dizzy” Gillespie. As a child, Dizzy is bullied by bigger boys and gets beaten regularly by his father. Unable to manage his anger, he leads a rough childhood, fighting anyone who crosses his path. This changes, however, at age thirteen, when his music teacher gives him a trumpet. Using music as an outlet, and after a great deal of practice, Dizzy plays his horn with various jazz bands until he finally makes it to New York City. Perpetually seeking the limelight, Dizzy is a prankster on stage. Bored with the predictable melodies of “swing,” he begins to break all the rules; playing notes and riffs that no one has ever heard. Dizzy is eventually fired from the band, giving him the freedom to work on a new style called “bebop,” which took over the jazz world by the 1950’s. Despite the fact that this is for most purposes an informational text, it does carry an underlying message for students: Dizzy’s goofy nature and tendency to break all of the rules is what ultimately makes him one of the greatest jazz musicians in history. In other words, going ‘against the grain’ will lead to major accomplishments. According to Lamme and Fu, “The issues of gender, race, culture, and class are as important to examine in informational literature as they are in fiction.”(19). This picture book, and the format in which Dizzy Gillespie’s life is presented, may generate change in how its audience views themselves.

The print in Dizzy reflects the privileged perspective of wild, exuberant men who follow their own agendas. Winter writes, “If a melody was like a rule, jazz was like breaking the rules, like inventing new rules. Jazz was like getting in trouble- it was fun!”(12). While it may be true that some seek to break rules and find trouble, this is not the case with all children. Those who try to be “good” at home, school, and elsewhere within their communities by striving to be respectful and conscientious may get the impression that this behavior is viewed as trivial, leading nowhere in life. In addition to displaying great talent for playing the trumpet, Dizzy Gillespie becomes famous by upstaging others. Winter goes on to write, “On certain nights, he’d elbow the piano man off the bench and play the keyboard with his left hand and the trumpet with his right.” Although his fellow band members do not appreciate these shenanigans, the boss replies by calling Dizzy a “Wiz”(5). When Dizzy makes it to New York City, he continues, “making funny faces, faking football passes behind the back of the bandleader while the DUDE was trying to SING, PARTLY to get a laugh, but MAINLY to get NOTICED”(6). This reinforces the idea that those who achieve great things only do so at the expense of others, and furthermore, brings to attention the absence of women in the band. Dizzy’s outlandish, self-centered actions are celebrated and even idolized towards the end of the book, when Winter states, “being a clown, breaking all the rules- had become the thing that made him great, his ticket into Jazz Heaven where, on certain nights, Dizzy Gillespie still shoves the angel Gabriel out of the way and shows him how to play Bebop”(44).

According to Kiefer, Hepler, and Hickman, “in the best picture books, the illustrations extend and enhance the written text, providing the reader with an aesthetic experience that is more than the sum of the book’s parts... both the illustrations and the text must bear the burden
of narration” (200). In considering Sean Quall’s illustrations in Dizzy, one must wonder exactly what message he is attempting to portray. He uses acrylic paint, collage, and pencil as the medium, choosing deliberate colors for specific scenes. When Dizzy is poor, living in a small southern town, the reader sees mostly beiges, browns, and blacks. As his success grows, so does the color scheme into a new world of peach, white, yellow, purple, and blue. Red is used sparingly and in the beginning, Qualls uses it to highlight the negative: red bricks in the background where Dizzy is bullied, the father standing on a red rug while he beats his son, the anger Dizzy experiences while blowing as hard as he can into his horn. Therefore, a little girl may feel uneasy when she reaches a point later on in the story where the only woman drawn in color is wearing a bright red dress and bright red shoes. The reader may comprehend women as negative, an evil presence within the text.

The privilege within Dizzy’s illustrations belongs to big-city African-American males. From start to end, this picture book features fifty-nine illustrations of men, and only eleven women. It is only men who appear onstage, despite some of the great female jazz vocalists of this time, such as Billie Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald. It is clear, therefore, that girls are at risk of feeling marginalized by this book. The men depicted in urban cities such as Philadelphia and New York are well-dressed, dancing with women and enjoying themselves. Those illustrated back in Dizzy’s little hometown wear ragged clothing, and seem unhappy with their lot in life. These pictures may suggest to children that happiness and success can only be found in the big city. Only one page depicts people of other races in New York City. While most African-Americans in the text are illustrated in color with unique, distinctive facial characteristics, these few people are portrayed in blacks, whites, and beiges. It is difficult to determine what their backgrounds may be, as their faces are crudely drawn.

Boys who come from difficult home lives and “class clowns” would relate best to this book, mainly because these are the children who would most easily connect to Dizzy’s experiences; whether it be through an understanding of dealing with cruelty at home, or the enjoyment of stirring up trouble for laughs. While the text relates the privileged perspective of African-American males, it is this very same group that may also feel marginalized. Upon reading this story, a child may wonder if African-Americans can only escape rough beginnings by displaying some great and unusual talent. The Council on Interracial Books for Children asks, “To gain acceptance and approval, do persons of color have to exhibit extraordinary qualities - excel in sports, get As, etc.?”. In Dizzy Gillespie’s case, at least, the answer seems to be ‘yes.’ Why else would he have worked so hard to stand out onstage, to be noticed by the crowd? Yet another group who may feel left out or insulted by this text are rural and suburban children. Living in a small town is viewed as negative, and not conducive to Dizzy’s success as a human being. Jonah Winter describes Dizzy as being, “stuck inside a Podunk town,” and when he moves on, even “Philly was SMALL TIME, and Dizzy got bored”(9). This may convey the message to children that rural or suburban life is boring, meaningless, and invaluable.

Regarding my reading of Dizzy, I have encountered this text as a middle-class, caucasion, twenty-seven year old woman with little prior knowledge of jazz, or the life of John Birks “Dizzy” Gillespie. Upon my first reading, I interpreted this book simply in the way I believe it was intended: as the biographical story of one of history’s great musicians. While reading it for a second, and then third time, however, I noticed that it carried a different message for me, personally. I have always known that I am living in a man’s world. Dizzy reinforces this concept through constant negligence of expressing the role of women involved in John Birk’s personal life, culture, and society. Just as Dizzy had to demonstrate extraordinary talent and qualities to escape from being left behind, forgotten, and insignificant in a small ‘podunk’ town; women will have to continue to do the same in order to rise as equals within an inequitable world. It is simply part of our culture to give men most of the power, and this fact remains blatantly uncontested across the pages of Dizzy.

While reading this text, I wonder if children’s books such as these aren’t part of the problem: boys and girls are indoctrinated into our school systems, where they encounter different stories of all sorts and genres, many of which may also carry harmful, underlying messages which push women down and lift men up. I agree with Mary Jo Fresch when she states, “Teachers, then, are charged with providing the opportunity to discuss, debate, and examine issues. They must be aware of what further exploration students might need when examining books outside their experiences”(443). As teachers of literacy, we must not allow children to feel smaller or less able based upon the texts which they experience. Our classrooms should develop critical readers, and within this process, we may discover that we are not only teachers of reading, but teachers of society, culture, life, and the world.




Works Cited

Fresch, Mary Jo. “Both Sides of the Story? Searching for Multiple Voices in Children’s Literature.” Journal for a Just and Caring Education, Vol. 2, No. 4 October 1996.

Kiefer, Barbara, Hickman, Janet, and Hepler, Susan. Charlotte Huck’s Children’s Literature.
McGraw-Hill Humanities, 9th Edition. 2006.

Lamme, Linda, and Fu, Danling. “Sheltering Children from the Whole Truth: A Critical Analysis of an Informational Picture Book.” Journal of Children’s Literature, Vol. 27, No. 2, Fall 2001.

The Council on Interracial Books for Children. “10 Quick Ways to Analyze Children's Books
for Racism and Sexism.” http://www.birchlane.davis.ca.us/library/Default.htm.

Winter, Jonah. Dizzy. Arthur A. Levine Books; Library Binding edition, October 1, 2006.