Rethinking Middle School Classroom Libraries

I have been doing a “study” of classroom libraries on the web this summer. I inherited a minuscule library (we’re talking about a half-dozen books) from the former eighth grade ELA teacher because he didn’t believe that middle schoolers needed a library in their classroom when there was a great resource just down the hall. Although I agree that we do have one of the best young adult collections I’ve ever seen in our secondary library, I also believe there is great value to having a collection of books in the classroom. There is nothing like saying to a student during a reading conference, “Wait, I have the perfect book for you” and then walking over to pull it off the shelf. When students say, “I forgot my book today,” I can send them over to the classroom library to find something to read during independent reading time. So I have been buying young adult books at the used book sales to add to my shelves. I also have about 50 new books coming from Booksource this fall to add to my classroom library. I believe they have an important place in a middle school literacy classroom.

Here is my dilemma. I have never seen pictures of or read articles specifically about middle school classroom libraries. I have seen lots of pictures of elementary libraries; in fact, Choice Literacy posted pictures of attractive elementary classroom libraries on their Facebook page all during the month of May. Here are a couple of examples. I saw shelves filled with plastic baskets labeled by genre, series, or author. I saw select books displayed on stands. I saw rugs and rocking chairs and floor lamps and houseplants and bright colors. Choice Literacy also published several articles about classroom libraries: organizing, types of books, categorizing, leveling, etc. Again, the examples were all elementary age.

So I am wondering: What would an eighth grade classroom look like? My students love my reading corner outfitted with beanbag chairs, throw pillows, overstuffed chair, and traditional Arab majli cushion set. I like displaying five or six books that connect with the genre we’re focused on or titles I think they would like on the top of the bookshelf. The setting works. What should my library selves look like? Should I have plastic baskets of books labeled “Nonfiction”, “Walter Dean Myers”, “Twilight”, and “Books About Girls Who Don’t Fit In”? Should I alphabetize the shelves by author for fiction and assign Dewy Decimals for the nonfiction like the “real” library? Should I randomly throw them onto the shelf? Should I take time out of class to have the kids figure it out?

Middle school students draw a fine line between what is “babyish” and “cool”. Sometimes I’m shooting in the dark trying to figure it out. Last year I learned that they definitely think sitting on the cushions to read or work on laptops is cool. But sitting on the floor during the mini-lesson is babyish. Would they think plastic baskets too babyish? Or would they direct readers to easily find books to read, and thus they would be cool? What other organizational container would be “cooler” than plastic baskets? I think I’ll go to the dollar store and see what I can find.

Teachers as Writers

I firmly believe that writing teachers need to write, and they need to write what their students are writing so that they can teach from personal experience. It is powerful to say to a student, “Something that works for me when I’m having that problem is…”, and so I have tried to maintain an active writing life for the past fifteen years.

Notice the verb “tried” in that last sentence. I cannot yet say that I have achieved the active writing life that I know I should maintain. My writer’s notebooks are full of spurts and gaps. My entries range from rants about my husband (not often, but helpful at the time), to observations about the scene in front of me, to poetry drafts, to character sketches, to thoughts about my children, to travel writing. My portfolio of pieces matches the genres and deadlines of my units for students. I seem to be writing because I “should” and not because I feel the urge to voice my thoughts.

This summer, I signed up for Kate Messner’s Teacher’s Write “Writing Camp”. A teacher and author, Kate posted a series of mini-lessons, prompts, and encouragement on her daily blog. She invited guest authors to contribute, and allowed participants to share their writing. In mid-June, I had all the best intentions to follow the blog daily, to write daily, and to write at least one finished fiction story (my most difficult genre) by the end of the summer.

Can you guess how it’s turned out, now that we’re nearing the end of July? Yep, best laid plans…. I have done some of the prompts in my writer’s notebook, such as written a couple of scenes and character sketches. I’ve written other entries in between. I haven’t written daily, nor have I written a complete story. Sigh.

But wait! I actually HAVE been writing (almost) every day. I got my blog up and going again—that’s writing! I wrote in response to articles for the blogging course I’m taking—that’s writing! I wrote reviews for the books I read this summer for my Shelfari and Goodreads pages—that’s writing! I emailed and chatted and posted on facebook—that’s writing!

Maybe I should recognize and celebrate all the writing that’s in my life. I will still try to stretch myself by trying new things, either through prompts in my writer’s notebook or working toward a finished piece in a specific genre. But perhaps I need to let go of the guilt and let me be the writer I am: a full time teacher/ mother/ wife who fits writing into the spaces left behind. Some of that writing is full and thoughtful (like this blog) and some is quick (like a facebook post), but it’s writing.

And as I sit down with my eighth graders this fall, I can say to them, “I know what it’s like to be a busy person. Do you know what I do to fit in time for my writer’s notebook?”

image from scribifile website

What I learned about eighth graders- Part III: Stay Flexible

Moving from sixth grade to eighth grade this year was a leap, not just in curricular expectations or unit topics, but also in dealing with personalities. Three students in particular challenged me and made me continuously question how and why I was teaching the way I was. Because of their challenges, I grew as a teacher. This is the third student.

J- was a hyper-focused high achiever. Not really a perfectionist because she missed some homework and was not a good editor of her own work. But she loved to show how much she knew about something, or if she didn’t know it, she would dig until she knew every particle. Her modus operandi was to write down everything that was in her head, with arrows and asterisks and tiny writing between lines, hoping to impress with quantity. The grade was important to her, and if some mark was unclear, she would argue and explain and demand explanations without listening to reasoning. It was aggressive and belligerent at times. I tried to show her how to focus her answers, taught lessons on concise and precise writing, and marked “not relevant” on test answers. But still, she kept on filling the page for a one- to two-sentence response expectation. She also loved to take assignments in her own direction, choosing a topic not on the list, or answering in the role of the devil’s advocate. Her non-conformity made me angry and challenged. That is, until I was showing her note-taking on the final exam to the librarian, ranting about the quantity and lack of neatness and obsessiveness of it, and he said, “I can understand everything on this page. It’s in proper note form, and organized by topic.” He was right. J- taught me that bright, confident kids need to do things their own way to be challenged and interested. If their way is not my way, that doesn’t make it wrong, just different. I have to keep the objectives in mind and see the work as valuable without personal judgment

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What I learned about eighth graders - Part II: Consistency Matters

Moving from sixth grade to eighth grade this year was a leap, not just in curricular expectations or unit topics, but also in dealing with personalities. Three students in particular challenged me and made me continuously question how and why I was teaching the way I was. Because of their challenges, I grew as a teacher. This is the second student:

R- was a tough girl. She wore the same grey hooded sweatshirt to class every day with her jeans and sneakers. She was a soccer star and reveled in being a tomboy. Her longtime best friend liked soccer too, but she also became someone’s girlfriend in August. R- felt hurt and jealous and lonely, which made her enter the room sulky and unfocused. She wrote long letters to her friend in her writer’s notebook-- forbidden for me to read-- about how she missed her. She doodled her name on her papers. She was angry at me for asking her to do something other than moon over her lost friend. On our November teacher feedback survey she wrote, “I just don’t like the way the teacher teaches. I’m not learning anything in her class.” I kept expecting the work to get done, though, and made sure I was holding her accountable during conferences. I also made sure I made positive comments whenever I could, trying to get her to buy into the class. I really don’t know what happened, but she suddenly shifted to my camp in February (did her friend and the boy break up?). Suddenly, I was her “bestie”. She would write me little notes on exit tickets, “Hi bestie :-)”. We fist bumped at every opportunity. She frequently asked me if she was my favorite student. R- taught me that I need to hang in there with the ups and downs of eighth grade girls. They are hormonal. They are moody. They can’t control it and don’t like it either. They are looking for structure, consistency, and safety when everything else feels loose and uncertain.

What I learned about eighth graders- Part I: Love Them

Moving from sixth grade to eighth grade this year was a leap, not just in curricular expectations or unit topics, but also in dealing with personalities. Three students in particular challenged me and made me continuously question how and why I was teaching the way I was. Because of their challenges, I grew as a teacher.

Y- was a little boy in a big boy’s body. Although he was as tall as the other boys, taller than many, and was one of the first in the grade to have an official girlfriend, he was only twelve years old until November, making him the youngest boy in the grade. He acted his age in small but important ways in the classroom: continuously poking his neighbors, especially if they were girls; unable to concentrate for longer than ten minutes—standardized tests were a torture and he would rock or sit on his knees and sigh; he had very little reading stamina, hating each story or book he was given because it took a little effort to get past the beginning. In class, he put his head down on the table. When asked to take notes or to write a reflection, he scrawled a few illegible words. He was simply unengaged. But he craved attention, and he reached out from his world to mine. “Mrs. Pohl, have you seen….?” “Mrs. Pohl, is this right?” “Mrs. Pohl, how do I…?” A huge movie buff, he frequently asked me if I’d seen the most recent movie, or one that connected to what we were discussing. He asked my favorite actor, or musician, or song. He was quick with verbal snipes back to my remarks. And when it was the last day of school and he asked, “Can we go?” I said, “Yes, but you have to hug me first.” He gave me the biggest, tightest hug of anyone. Y- taught me that the curriculum is not going to connect to every kid, no matter the games or role-plays, the choices or multiple intelligences opportunities. But I had better find a way to connect with every single kid even if their behavior is off-putting or negative, because they still want to be loved by their teachers. That will make a difference in a kid’s life.