We all need mentors. Many parts of Carl Anderson's chapter on mentor texts in his book, How's it Goin' fit in nicely with my current thinking on literacy instruction in my classroom. I can't agree more with Anderson's criteria for text sets as mentor texts for writers. He states, “First, our collections of mentor texts should reflect the voices and experiences of the children in our classrooms...A collection of mentor texts should also include a variety of genres… Finally, [they] should be crafted in different ways” (Anderson, 2000, p.133). This already jives with the way I select text sets for integrating social studies and to use as read-alouds. Using them as mentors, however, takes it to a new level for me. I love the idea that knowing how to use a mentor text is like having a mentor you can carry around with you always. If you can read as a writer, then every text is your potential mentor, and you can carry the greats with you wherever you go. If we as teachers can model this behavior, all the better. As Anderson puts it, “We hope our students will become the kind of writers who also have such writing mentors. They read their favorite authors’ books and essays and poems with a ‘writer’s eye’ and notice how these authors craft their writing” (Anderson, 2000, p.109).
I enjoy the anecdotes in the book that offer us a chance to eavesdrop on a conference with Anderson breaking down the choices he made and his rationale for them. It pointed me in a new direction to consider how he uses assuming questions as a form of modeling by asking students "Who is your writing mentor?" Anderson says that “Even when I’m certain a student doesn’t have a writing mentor, I may still ask if he does” (Anderson, 2000, p.112). Amazing the power a simple question can have for conveying expectations and raising the bar for student writers. It seems the goal of much of the writing conference is to help students build metacognition about the writing process. It takes a lot of cognitive effort to process the content of a story while simultaneously picking apart the craft and structure that the story is built upon. That's why Anderson says “I try to match students up to texts their class has already read and studied in mini-lessons” (Anderson, 2000, p.122). This is one way Anderson tries to purposefully focus the cognitive load, because as he points out, “It’s unreasonable, after all, to expect students to come to brilliant insights into how an author uses a craft technique a few seconds after we’ve read a text aloud, or right after they’ve read it for the first time” (Anderson, 2000, p.128). I am still wondering what Anderson would do, though, if a student struggles to see the difference between their own writing sample and the mentor sample they are using for inspiration.
The chapter on Mini-Lessons also squared with my thinking and offered plenty of "ah-ha" moments. Often times I theoretically know something but am unsure how to put it into practice. Anderson takes care of that for me by clearly structuring the art of the mini-lesson and providing rationale for each chunk. I find myself nodding "yes yes yes, this makes so much sense" when Anderson explains how “Mini-lessons give us opportunities not only to give students information about different kinds of writing work, but to persuade students to adopt our agendas for them as writers as their own, and equip them to try out what we teach in their independent writing” (Anderson, 2000, p.139).
So many of my growing edges throughout Grad School have been focused on finding structure and intention within my creativity, and I find this chapter to be immensely helpful in that work. I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief when I imagine myself using Anderson's mini-lesson technique in a consistent way that also provides some freedom. When discussing the effective mini-lessons he's observed teachers use, he says “while the content of their mini-lessons changes from day to day, the way that they structure the lessons remains constant. Within this predictable architecture, we noticed that teachers have parts of their min-lessons in which they teach students, encourage students to try what they’ve taught in their writing, and equip them to do so” (Anderson, 2000, p.140).
I appreciate how Anderson doesn't just tell me what I should be doing and then leaving me alone to figure out the details: he actually provides several examples of HOW to accomplish my mini-lesson goals. He points me in some new directions with his suggestions, such as the "Fishbowl" method. Anderson describes the Fishbowl, saying “When we want to give students information about how they can have effective peer conferences (or response groups), we can have students ‘fishbowl’ a conference in front of the rest of the class. As the students confer, we might caption what they do-- that is, give names to the moves they make in their conversation” (Anderson, 2000, p.146). I also think I could make use of the “Say something” method he describes on page 148 for multiple content areas. I also love the intention and purpose that undergrids the sharing phase of mini-lessons. Often in my class I cry silently within when kids want to "share" their writing, and the slowness and time sucking of these moments is almost painful for me to endure. Considering anchoring "share" into the specific strategies of the mini-lesson is a "EUREKA" moment for me that might help me solve this problem in my class. I can really take to heart Anderson's wise words concerning sharing when he reminds us, “The point of the share session is for students to discuss work they did as writers that period, not to read their pieces aloud from beginning to end” (Anderson, 2000, p.152).
While I agree completely that mini-lessons should remain "mini" in order to maximize their effectiveness, some questions are still circling in my mind about the best ways to accomplish this. I felt like he was talking directly to me when he listed the different possible reasons why mini-lessons drag on for longer than they should. I thought "that's SO my class" when he brought up the issue of too much student discussion. As usual, the solution to this lies within the planning phase. Anderson says, “we have to decide in advance in which parts of our mini-lessons we’re going to do the talking, and in which parts the students will-- and then stick to our plan” (Anderson, 2000, p.150). That is SO HARD for my class which includes a cognitively diverse community of students, some of whom struggle to control impulses or need to be constantly verbalizing in order to maintain focus and comprehension. He also cites too many teacher examples as a time-sucker, claiming that “After the second or third example...students have gotten the point we’re making. As we show them more, we lose their attention and they lose writing time. We can give students informaton by showing them one or two carefully chosen examples” (Anderson, 2000, p.151). On the one hand, yes, I think many of my students will be chomping at the bit and ready to try techniques out after one or two examples. But just as many other students are going to require more time and guided practice to process and be equipped to try things out. This is also related to his next factor, which is that we repeat ourselves too much. This may be true for some students, but others might need to hear and see things a few more times before they have processed it. When I saw the suggested time frame for the "Have a Go" phase was 2-4 minutes (p.147) I almost had to laugh out loud. Maybe in some classrooms but never in a million years would this work in mine. This indicates to me that the strategies shared in this book aren't really geared towards an inclusion setting, and it makes me wonder how to appropriately adapt them for classroom communities with cognitive differences.
If I had to take away one major theme linking these passages (and also running more largely throughout the book) it would be the word "intention." This is something I keep coming back to in my own developing practice. Armed with effective planning and a clear purpose, it seems teachers can select mentor texts and design effective mini-lessons with ease. I can't wait to "have a go" at the strategies I've learned with my own young writers!
I enjoy the anecdotes in the book that offer us a chance to eavesdrop on a conference with Anderson breaking down the choices he made and his rationale for them. It pointed me in a new direction to consider how he uses assuming questions as a form of modeling by asking students "Who is your writing mentor?" Anderson says that “Even when I’m certain a student doesn’t have a writing mentor, I may still ask if he does” (Anderson, 2000, p.112). Amazing the power a simple question can have for conveying expectations and raising the bar for student writers. It seems the goal of much of the writing conference is to help students build metacognition about the writing process. It takes a lot of cognitive effort to process the content of a story while simultaneously picking apart the craft and structure that the story is built upon. That's why Anderson says “I try to match students up to texts their class has already read and studied in mini-lessons” (Anderson, 2000, p.122). This is one way Anderson tries to purposefully focus the cognitive load, because as he points out, “It’s unreasonable, after all, to expect students to come to brilliant insights into how an author uses a craft technique a few seconds after we’ve read a text aloud, or right after they’ve read it for the first time” (Anderson, 2000, p.128). I am still wondering what Anderson would do, though, if a student struggles to see the difference between their own writing sample and the mentor sample they are using for inspiration.
The chapter on Mini-Lessons also squared with my thinking and offered plenty of "ah-ha" moments. Often times I theoretically know something but am unsure how to put it into practice. Anderson takes care of that for me by clearly structuring the art of the mini-lesson and providing rationale for each chunk. I find myself nodding "yes yes yes, this makes so much sense" when Anderson explains how “Mini-lessons give us opportunities not only to give students information about different kinds of writing work, but to persuade students to adopt our agendas for them as writers as their own, and equip them to try out what we teach in their independent writing” (Anderson, 2000, p.139).
So many of my growing edges throughout Grad School have been focused on finding structure and intention within my creativity, and I find this chapter to be immensely helpful in that work. I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief when I imagine myself using Anderson's mini-lesson technique in a consistent way that also provides some freedom. When discussing the effective mini-lessons he's observed teachers use, he says “while the content of their mini-lessons changes from day to day, the way that they structure the lessons remains constant. Within this predictable architecture, we noticed that teachers have parts of their min-lessons in which they teach students, encourage students to try what they’ve taught in their writing, and equip them to do so” (Anderson, 2000, p.140).
I appreciate how Anderson doesn't just tell me what I should be doing and then leaving me alone to figure out the details: he actually provides several examples of HOW to accomplish my mini-lesson goals. He points me in some new directions with his suggestions, such as the "Fishbowl" method. Anderson describes the Fishbowl, saying “When we want to give students information about how they can have effective peer conferences (or response groups), we can have students ‘fishbowl’ a conference in front of the rest of the class. As the students confer, we might caption what they do-- that is, give names to the moves they make in their conversation” (Anderson, 2000, p.146). I also think I could make use of the “Say something” method he describes on page 148 for multiple content areas. I also love the intention and purpose that undergrids the sharing phase of mini-lessons. Often in my class I cry silently within when kids want to "share" their writing, and the slowness and time sucking of these moments is almost painful for me to endure. Considering anchoring "share" into the specific strategies of the mini-lesson is a "EUREKA" moment for me that might help me solve this problem in my class. I can really take to heart Anderson's wise words concerning sharing when he reminds us, “The point of the share session is for students to discuss work they did as writers that period, not to read their pieces aloud from beginning to end” (Anderson, 2000, p.152).
While I agree completely that mini-lessons should remain "mini" in order to maximize their effectiveness, some questions are still circling in my mind about the best ways to accomplish this. I felt like he was talking directly to me when he listed the different possible reasons why mini-lessons drag on for longer than they should. I thought "that's SO my class" when he brought up the issue of too much student discussion. As usual, the solution to this lies within the planning phase. Anderson says, “we have to decide in advance in which parts of our mini-lessons we’re going to do the talking, and in which parts the students will-- and then stick to our plan” (Anderson, 2000, p.150). That is SO HARD for my class which includes a cognitively diverse community of students, some of whom struggle to control impulses or need to be constantly verbalizing in order to maintain focus and comprehension. He also cites too many teacher examples as a time-sucker, claiming that “After the second or third example...students have gotten the point we’re making. As we show them more, we lose their attention and they lose writing time. We can give students informaton by showing them one or two carefully chosen examples” (Anderson, 2000, p.151). On the one hand, yes, I think many of my students will be chomping at the bit and ready to try techniques out after one or two examples. But just as many other students are going to require more time and guided practice to process and be equipped to try things out. This is also related to his next factor, which is that we repeat ourselves too much. This may be true for some students, but others might need to hear and see things a few more times before they have processed it. When I saw the suggested time frame for the "Have a Go" phase was 2-4 minutes (p.147) I almost had to laugh out loud. Maybe in some classrooms but never in a million years would this work in mine. This indicates to me that the strategies shared in this book aren't really geared towards an inclusion setting, and it makes me wonder how to appropriately adapt them for classroom communities with cognitive differences.
If I had to take away one major theme linking these passages (and also running more largely throughout the book) it would be the word "intention." This is something I keep coming back to in my own developing practice. Armed with effective planning and a clear purpose, it seems teachers can select mentor texts and design effective mini-lessons with ease. I can't wait to "have a go" at the strategies I've learned with my own young writers!
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Thanks for sharing such a nice post
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