Lord of the Flies - Analysis & the Art of Close Reading

The boy with the fair hair lowered himself down ...

Those seven words, which open William Golding's classic coming-of-age novel Lord of the Flies, would take me roughly thirty minutes to teach when I began the novel each September. And that is my introduction for my freshman on how to study literature at the high school level. After the students have had the book for a couple days, and have been asked to read the first chapter, I open with a discussion of effective reading strategies. This follows an earlier class when I exposed them to the possibility they were fake reading. And, I propose that we revisit the chapter and "read it aloud" employing reading strategies such as "asking questions during reading" and being metacognitive. They seem surprised but intrigued.

So, I begin. I read, "The boy ..." And then, I pause. "So, what do you know?" I ask. They seem confused. "There's a boy," they say. But what does that mean? Why does Golding start with the word "boy"? Why not Ralph, as the boy is identified a couple pages later? The reason, of course, is that we must know him as a boy, not a man. He is a child - one who is still innocent - and he will come of age by losing that innocence when he recognizes and understands the darkness that is in man's heart. Thus, by beginning with boy, and not man or person or Ralph, Golding establishes a potential bildungsroman.

"And why not a girl?" I proceed to ask. Would it be a different novel with a group of girls on the island? Of course it would. We discuss the more physically aggressive, immature, and potentially savage nature of boys versus girls. We ponder the drama that might arise among a group of adolescent girls. We discuss the difference between boys and girls at all ages. I share stories of nieces who, as toddlers, would passively observe the flowers in my parents' garden, whereas as my nephews would walk right in, trample, even pick them. I point out that if there is a group of young children frying ants on the sidewalk in your neighborhood in the summer, it will most definitely be boys, not girls. I point out that girls and women would never have invented skateboard halfpipes or MMA fighting. And, then I share with them Golding's answer when asked why he chose adolescent boys as his characters. "Well," he said in perfect deadpan voice, "when you get right down to it, the fourteen-year-old-boy is the closest manifestation of true evil you will find anywhere in the world." The class erupts. The girls enthusiastically agree, and the boys concede and shrug their shoulders. Golding's diction, "the boy," is absolutely significant in conveying theme.

We proceed. The boy has "fair hair." Is that an important detail? Absolutely. An author of great literature will not bother to mention a character's hair unless that quality is significant. In this case, the boy's fair hair is a reflection of his demeanor and role in the novel. He is the "good guy." Light is a positive motif, and in Western allegory light is symbol of the forces of good in the battle of good and evil. Additionally, Ralph, the boy, attempts to establish a system of order and justice. Thus, he is "fair." And, hair becomes a primary motif throughout the work, as numerous characters are identified by their hair. However, the next point is that the fair-haired boy "lowers himself down." Is that significant? Of course, it is. Just as light and dark are symbolic of good and evil in Western civilization, directions of up and down are, too. Obviously, heaven is up and hell is down, and gods are always considered to be up on the mountain or up in the sky. Thus, the boy - coming from civilization - is going down. This foreshadows and will symbolize man's "fall from grace" as the boys on the island descend into savagery and wickedness. Additionally, the reflexive pronoun is significant as the boy "lowers himself." Our hero plays a role in his fall - just as Adam and Eve or any tragic hero. He is partially responsible.

Following this analysis, the class realizes my expectations for them in terms of close reading and the task of analyzing how the author uses language to achieve his purpose. Certainly, they argue, if they spend that much time on each word, the novel will take years to read and analyze. Alas, I explain that much of this dialogue should be going on inside their heads, subconsciously. And as we continue to study, they will learn to instinctively apply such knowledge and ask such questions. The remaining time in class is spent on the rest of the first paragraph. The boys are in an Edenic-like setting. It has been damaged with a "scar" from the airplane which crashed. We discuss the connotation of "scar" and the idea that man's actions have damaged the innocent natural world. Other details include the boy shedding his clothes, trailing this sign of civilization behind him. The scar is a steamy bath of heat, and a the silence is broken with a "witch-like cry" of a red and yellow bird. These particular words create an ominous tone, foreshadowing the evil to come and the fire that will also become a significant motif. At the end of the class, we realize we'll need another period for the rest of chapter one.

Ultimately, this class is time well spent, as the students are introduced to the ideas of close reading and style analysis. Expectations are set for studying literature beyond the elements of the novel on which they focused in middle school. They will eventually compose a written passage analysis of this first paragraph when they are asked to re-read the passage and analyze the way "the author uses language to convey his theme."

YA Lit is Simply Entertainment - and that's OK

I'm not overly impressed with the writing of Rick Riordan - namely his immensely popular Percy Jackson series. But that's OK because he is not writing for me. When I first read the first book: Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief, I was intrigued by the potential. Here was a book that drew heavily from classic traditions. Though as I read I was a bit disappointed in the quality of the writing ... and the way the stories seemed more like "hacks" than attributions and derivatives. The writing just seemed overly weak and cliched, especially when compared with the brilliance of JK Rowling, who had set a new bar in children's lit. However, my kids, who are 9 and 12, as well as their friends and millions of other young people are duly impressed and entertained and, even, fanatical about the stories. And, that is fine with people like Noah Berlatsky who reminds us that "Young Adult Fiction Does Not Have to be a Gateway to the Classics."

Discussions like this often seem to presume that there was an idyllic time, somewhere in the past, when kids' books were substantially better, or when young people read great adult literature. Graham contrasts Percy Jackson and Riordan's new encyclopedia Percy Jackson's Greek Gods to the classic 1925 collection of Greek myths by Ingri and Edgar D'Aulaire. She finds Riordan's book slangy and "inscribed with obsolescence," since it references Craigslist, iPhones, and other pop culture detritus. The D'Aulaires, on the other hand, remain "lucid"—though their poetic Victorian language is, she admits, "stilted." Graham seems to conclude that it's a loss that kids want to read lines like "At first, Kronos wasn’t so bad. He had to work his way up to being a complete slime bucket" instead of  “In olden times, when men still worshiped ugly idols, there lived in the land of Greece a folk of shepherds and herdsmen who cherished light and beauty." To me, though, Riordan's joke about Kronos is actually better written: less weighed down with reverence, more surprising, and less condescending towards its subject matter (who is it who sees those idols as "ugly"?). I read Riordan's The Last Hero multiple times and worked on a study guide about it; I wouldn't say that its prose is deathless, but I can think of many inferior books. Percy Jackson isn't any worse than the Hardy Boys adventures or Piers Anthony's Xanth novels that I read as a kid.

In the past few years, when English teachers I know have discussed new selections - especially for class assignments like summer reading - the debate about YA lit has come up. Certainly, kids are more likely to read YA, and some of the writing can be very compelling. But is it literature? Is it worthy of study? Is it only about character, plot, and theme? Do we want literature to be a window or a mirror?  The questions go on and on. And with the incredible rise of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter phenomenon, the interest of "adults" in "children's literature" has expanded, as the line on reading material has become blurry.

So, should adults read - and actually be engaged or entertained by - stories written for kids? New Hampshire writer Ruth Graham argues no in a compelling article for Slate.com, "Against YA."

Of course, Graham doesn't just believe the works aren't appropriate and shouldn't be interesting to adults. Her commentary claims adults "should be embarrassed when what you're reading was written for children." And this piece just happens to coincide with the theatrical release of the film adaption of John Green's poignant and compelling work The Fault in Our Stars. This is a richly written YA novel that Time Magazine named one of the Ten Best Books of the year. And, I know I really enjoyed the book. And I really enjoy all of John Green's work. However, I argued against the study of TFIOS in school simply because of the simplicity of the language. It is a great story, no doubt. But other than discussing themes and feelings, there is really nothing worthy of study on a language level.

As for whether adults should or shouldn't read kids books, that's simply a matter of debate.

Testing Giant Pearson, Inc. Devours the World of Education

With the talk of cash-strapped school budgets, you'd never think there is millions to be made in the world of public education. But, that's because you are not a text book and test-making company that is feeding off the education reform era. That's because you're not Pearson. As the growth and influence of Common Core and PARCC testing guides nearly all the discussion of public education, some people are beginning to wake up to the monopolistic behavior of a one-hundred-year old British company that began in construction. Pearson moved heavily into the education market nearly fifteen years ago in a prescient move to buy a testing company just as the United States Congress passed the No Child Left Behind Act, which kicked off an era of testing the likes of which schools had never seen. In the years since, Pearson has had its hands in nearly every aspect of "education reform." It's now clear that the un-due and dis-proportionate control that Pearson has over public education in America demands investigation. To that end, Stephanie Simon has amassed some impressive information that calls into question the ethics of a profit-driven company influencing public education, as she exposes how Pearson is really about "No Profit Left Behind."

Is It Really about College Degrees, or Just About Wages

"You have to go to college." Or do you?

The discussion continues about the necessity of a college degree, as we struggle to close the "achievement gap" and increase the numbers of kids who are ready for college and careers. And that issue of "readiness" is the one that I've been troubled by lately. While US schools are sending more kids to college and producing more degrees than ever before, there is a growing "graduation gap" among the kids going on to post-secondary school. A study from the Alliance for Higher Education and Democracy indicates a growing gap between the wealthier and poorer students in terms of degree achievement.

And, I am wondering about the push for degrees. It seems to me that education reformers are pushing more and more kids toward college and bachelor degrees for one simple reason:  more money and higher standard of living. We want to close the racial gaps in the middle and upper class, and we believe that the way families will increase status is through higher-paying, white collar jobs. If that's true, then the argument really isn't about degrees - it's about wages. Rather than telling people to go to college because that will give them access to higher paying jobs, we should instead be promoting and working toward higher wages for skilled labor. For, we know there are all sorts of people working in jobs that never required a degree.

And, that's OK.

Furthermore, while some may argue that we need to promote K-12 education, so that all students are qualified for and have the opportunity to "go to college," I question that logic. It seems to me that "readiness" for "college and career" are not often the same thing. And, promoting such an idea is actually quite inefficient. The "college/career" discussion is for another post.

But the truth about wages is clear.

Dick Hilker Offers Naive & Mis-informed View on Testing Debate in Colorado

Standardized testing remains the hot topic across the nation and in the legislature of Colorado as "pro-testing" and "protesting" forces battle over how much is enough and whether we should put PARCC-in-place or simply park-PARCC. To that issue, former newspaper columnist - and occasional curmudgeon - Dick Hilker believes the state should "leave standardized testing alone." Hiller takes a rather general and non-researched view that there's nothing wrong with testing ... and he then proceeds to disparage parents, teachers, kids, and public education.

Among those complaining: Educrats who claim test results really don't prove anything. Teachers who say they have to spend so much time "teaching to the test" that kids don't learn anything important. Parents who refuse to let their youngsters take the tests on the grounds that the pressure of performing well causes all types of emotional trauma.

Balderdash. These are probably the same people who think letter grades should be abolished and every child should be given a smiley face at the end of the year. If Tommy gets a tummy-ache before a core test, how can he possibly handle a college entrance exam, or even a classroom test that might mean the difference between him getting an A or B? Fortunately, most people have figured out that we can't improve our schools by simply providing them with more and more money. Improvement first requires a high degree of accountability on the part of school boards, administrators, teachers, individual schools and pupils. No one has found a way to measure progress — or the lack thereof — except by testing.

There are more than a few problems with Hilker's (mis)-view:

While his claims of "balderdash" and his mockery of teachers, parents, and children may entertain some readers, it really does nothing to complement or further the discussion.

This year students and teachers at hundreds of high schools around the state will lose ten or more days of instruction in order to complete the PARCC/CMAS tests. That's a simple hard reality of scheduling/proctoring of which Hilker has little-to-no understanding. However, students will/can complete the ACT (and associated ACT-Aspire tests for 9th & 10th graders) in one morning. And, we all know that ACT is the standard benchmark for college readiness nationwide. Thus, Hilker's call to simply leave the current testing requirements alone seems wildly misinformed ... and it lacks the critical thinking we hope to teach all students.

Additionally, the second round of PARCC comes a week before the state ACT and AP exams, and schools can expect that few juniors and AP students will bother to take the PARCC when the ACT and AP are what actually matter to them. Many will instead spend time preparing for AP exams. And, I can't say I blame them for their refusals, though as an educator, I must promote their participation in a test they don't value, and I will suffer any state reprisals that come from such refusals. Clearly, the push-back against testing is not simply an attempt to avoid accountability. It's actually a fact-based criticism and challenge of making accountability about a single test score which does not reflect anything other than the ability to take a test. Well, that and family income. As far as parents opting out, and Hilker's disparaging comments about "Tommy's tummy-ache," I'd argue he has some homework to do because there are numerous legitimate reasons for test refusal. 

Case in point - my 12-year-old son is currently studying calculus and recently won the Denver Math Counts competition, solving complex algorithms in less time than some pro-athletes run the 40. Obviously, the 7th-grade PARCC math exam is a colossal waste of his time. It's also a waste of resources to schedule such a test for him. And, as a veteran educator who has taught in schools from Denver to Taiwan, I have serious concerns about the quality and ability of the PARCC to accurately measure all students' strengths and weaknesses. It's not about a tummy-ache - it's much more complicated than that.

Obviously, Dick Hilker has a great deal of contempt for teachers and for public education, and he desires a convenient quick fix in the form of a test that will diagnose and solve all of education's challenges. Yet, it's simply not true that "no one has found a way to measure progress except for testing." Schools measure all day and all year through numerous means of data collection. And for the majority of students these measures work quite well. That's, of course, not to dismiss the challenges faced by roughly a third of schools and students. There are serious problems and challenges for many students. Testing critics simply point out that education is a complex system that can't be "fixed" by a standardized test.

Non-Fiction in the English Classroom

For years, some people in my English department argued that we severely under-serve and under-appreciate the genre of non-fiction in the classroom, especially at the high school level.  Despite our love for our stories in literature, we must acknowledge that nearly all the reading students will be asked to do in college is of the non-fiction slant, and we do our students a disservice by not studying non-fiction texts before then.  If the only non-fiction information and textual analysis students get in high school is their social studies textbook, that's a real shame.

Thus, I have attempted to promote non-fiction texts and work them into the curriculum.  For example, the summer reading assignment for my CE Intro to College Composition class was Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point.  This was Gladwell's first book, and it focuses on the role that trends and specific subgroups of people play in the development of society.  By focusing on ideas such as the Broken Windows Theory or the way products become hip, Gladwell outlines how small actions impact and determine society's development.  In crafting his argument, Gladwell identifies three subgroups of people - Mavens, Connectors, and Salesmen - who put these forces in play.  These descriptions are great fodder for discussion in the classroom.

Creativity and innovation are the qualities that lead to progress.  Beyond the obvious basic skills of literacy and computation, we want students to be able to problem solve - and that is linked to creativity.  Thus, books that can promote and inspire the ideas of creativity and innovation are useful tools in the classroom.  And, keeping in line with the push to promote more non-fiction in the classroom, I would recommend reading Daniel Pink's latest A Whole New Mind and Jonah Leher's Imagine.  Both these works are accessible in terms of promoting the values of imaginative, right-brain thinking which is integral to innovation and problem solving.

Other non-fiction works I've used are:

Michael Lewis' Next: The Future Just Happened

Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation 

The PARCC Test Won't Solve Anything - and it won't "fix' public education

The new Common Core State Standards, and the associated standardized assessments like PARCC, have been touted as the "magical cure" for all that ills public education. Nothing could be further from the truth. Here's my latest piece for the Denver Post, which explains why:

PARCC Won't Solve Our Problems.

The Post-Modern Puzzle of Good Writing & Literature.

Post-modern ...

It's just a word that sounds cool. And many literary types wish they could appreciate post-modernism, even if they can't. Every one talks about Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow, and often it's just to note how little of it they've read. For example, "I've tried to read it, but only got to page 47 ..." And, I am about to begin the post-modern discussion of Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried with my AP Lang juniors. They are always a bit blown away by the creative blending of fiction and reality. And, the book is accessible enough that they aren't scared of like young readers are of Pynchon. So, that's what makes Lenika Cruz's recent essay for The Atlantic about "Post-Modernism - for Kids" so cool. Cruz takes a look at the children's classic "Lemony Snicket" Series of Unfortunate Events and argues that what made it so popular and engaging for kids is the same literary qualities that make Post-Modernism such a complex and engaging challenge for adults.

In college, I encountered postmodern novels including Italo Calvino’s If on a winter’s night a traveler…, Don Delillo’s White Noise, and Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49. My professors presented them as works that were radical, at least in their day. But to me the tone and techniques they deployed felt familiar and somehow comforting. For an example of postmodern hallmarks—such as metafiction, the unreliable narrator, irony, black humor, self-reference, maximalism, and paranoia—look no further than this excerpt from the seventh Unfortunate Events book, The Ersatz Elevator.

 
And that made me think about the idea of literature as a puzzle. According to writer Peter Turchi, literature is "a puzzling experience." In his new book, A Muse & a Maze: Writing as a Puzzle, Mystery, and Magic, Turchi examines and seeks to explain the "puzzle of the written word" as he explains the origins and significance of puzzles and similar mind games in society. Jigsaw puzzles have fascinated us for centuries, and they continue to sell well even in the era of digital media and X-box. In exploring the history of puzzles and games, Turchi explores the medium of narrative writing and wonders about the puzzling nature of stories. His basic explanation is that "all writers are puzzle makers," as they carefully construct and slowly reveal a complete portrait of an idea over the course of many pages. It's a fascinating way to look at literature and worth considering as we craft lessons for readers.

In a footnote I’d like to see appended to every article on Y.A. and every other B.S. genre browbeating, Turchi writes: “Is Toni Morrison’s Beloveda ghost story? Is Wuthering Heights a romance novel? Is Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses a western? … Outside of publishers’ sales meetings, when is it necessary or useful to attach labels to books?”

The analysis of literature, or simply the enjoyment of a well crafted tale, is really about appreciating the puzzling craft of narrative. So many disparate parts come together to create the ultimate paragraph, and for a reader, it's as gratifying to read that last sentence as it is to place that final jigsaw. Each moment brings not only satisfaction, but also understanding.

Reading Tom Robbins' Still Life with Woodpecker

A former student - a senior now who is probably one of the most astute readers I've had in high school classes - let me know that he is currently reading Tom Robbin's classic Still Life with Woodpecker. I was instantly transported back to freshman year of college when a friend handed it to me - and everything about literature changed for a young history major who was destined to switch to English. The book that promises to answer "the mystery of redheads" is a captivating intro to one of America's most innovative and significant writers. And I love when students discover Robbins and all his madcap irreverence.

My student's father recommended the book to him. And that is pretty cool as well, for Robbins is certainly edgy and downright inappropriate at times. Not that a senior in high school shouldn't be able to handle it - but many probably aren't ready. Despite that, Robbins is worth the time for avid readers because of all the ways he challenges convention. I love explaining to students the unique approach Robbins takes to composition. It truly captures the idea of writing as "craft." As teachers of writing, consider sharing some of the magic of Robbins with writers:

Tracy Robbins for Salon.com

Timothy Egan for the New York Times - on "perfect sentences in an imperfect world."

Alan Rinzler of The Book Deal - with Robbins' advice to writers.

Is Classic Literature Fun?

When I used to teach freshman honors English students would shared their thoughts and insight on the summer reading selection A Separate Peace by John Knowles.  "It was a good book," some would concede, "but it wasn't really a fun read."

Exactly.

As teacher Carol Jago has so eloquently put it, there is a fundamental difference "between reading for pleasure and the study of literature."  Far from giving the kids something fun to read, high school English classes are designed to educate, broaden horizons, and assist students in how to appreciate literature.  To appreciate literature a reader comes to understand and acknowledge the quality and significance of the writing - that doesn't mean they have to like it.  There are many classic works of art - from music to paintings to poems to novels to plays - that I don't prefer.  I might even say I don't like them, as they are not my taste.  However, I won't say that Wutthering Heights is a bad book or that Sonnet 145 is a miserable poem or The Doll House is a worthless piece of drama.  They are quality literature - for all the reasons that we English teachers should fully understand - and we hope that students can come to understand them and acknowledge their place as a record of the human experience.

But they might not like them.

A Separate Peace is the quintessential American coming-of-age novel about two young men in a time of war.  Gene and Finny exemplify the struggles of young people with issues of identity, innocence, and manhood, and ultimately come to understand that "wars are caused by some ignorance in the human heart."  The friendship between the two - especially with the doppleganger motif working - offers two opposing views of the nature of man.  And, as I would begin to work my way through the story with my classes each August, they would slowly, but truly, begin to appreciate the work and its significance.  It really becomes two stories for them - there is the book they read on their own about two boys at school. That is the young adult side to the novel. And, then, there is the allegorical work of literature about the fall of man and the passage into adulthood.  Ultimately, if I've done my job well, students will appreciate the work when we're finished.  But that doesn't mean they'll like it.  Though many will.  By senior year, a considerable number of students cite it as a favorite book from high school.

So, there is value.

"Teaching" Kids What They Like ... or What They Need?

"Why can't we read books we like?"

This all-too-common question in the English classroom has been asked of me numerous times by high school students, most recently a freshmen who eyed with suspicion the text Lord of the Flies. Though she wasn't my student - her class followed mine - we often talked with several of her friends before class, and I could tell she was bright and motivated but still viewed the world as a child.  In talking about what she "liked," we veered into discussion of John Green's The Fault in Our Stars - an amazing young adult novel that has moved onto some very credible lists as one of best books of the year.  The student "loved the novel" and thought it would be great to discuss in class.  I asked her a few questions regarding her reading.  "Was the book tough to read?"  Of course not.  "Did you struggle with the sentences or the vocabulary?"  Are you crazy.  "Did it challenge you in any way?"  Well, it was really sad ... but I loved it.  And that is the issue.

So, what makes it worthy of study?  Far too often these days students and parents and, surprisingly, English teachers are confusing the pleasure reading with the study of literature.  They are not the same thing.  They do not belong in the same venue.  The pleasure of reading is not in any standard of education.  It is not the public's mandate.  It is not our job.  Appreciation, on the other hand, is.

In the past couple years, that issue has risen in our English department as some teachers questioned the school's policy of summer reading.  For many years, honors English students have been asked to read books like John Knowles' A Separate Peace and Alan Patton's Cry, the Beloved Country during the summer.  And teachers have struggled with students reading a book "they hate."  Thus, they have argued for offering a book that students can just enjoy, and books like John Green's The Fault in Our Stars have been offered as alternatives in the past.  For the record, John Green is a fantastic author, I have read all his books, and I love his work.  However, in spite of his brilliance and his use of the word metaphor and allusion, Green's work is not a work of classic literature.  It is a great book, and I would recommend it to all my students - in fact, I do.  However, to argue that English teachers should stop reading John Knowles or Alan Paton because "it's hard" or students "don't like it," and instead shift to the "study" of a book that for all its brilliance is written at about a sixth-grade level is ... discouraging.

In response, I look to Carol Jago and her book With Rigor For All: Teaching Classics to Contemporary Students.  Jago actually visited my high school years ago after our principle purchased copies of her book for the English department.  Carol Jago worries that "in our determination to provide students with literature that they can relate to we sometimes end up teaching works that students actually don't need much help with at the expense of teaching classics they most certainly need assistance negotiating."  I share her concerns, yet I struggle to convince teachers who simply want children to love literature.  While a noble goal, I'd argue that is the very job of the teacher - helping students appreciate William Golding the same way they love John Green.  At the very least, it's worth noting Carol Jago's point that "If a student can read a book on their own [and fully "get it"], it probably isn't the best choice for classroom study.  Classroom texts should pose an intellectual challenge to young readers."  Ultimately, I see a divergence in the goal of English teachers and the English classroom.  And I was, interestingly, steered toward Carol Jago's work by a teacher who was trying to convince me I was wrong for opposing the inclusion on John Green in the curriculum.

To that end, I can only cite Jago who asserts, "While I believe young adult fiction has a place in the recreational life of teenagers, I don't think these titles are the best choice when your goal is the study of literature."

Why One Teacher Opposes the PARCC Exam

Mary Ellen Redmond is a veteran teacher in Massachusetts, home of the most highly rated schools in the nation. Schools in the state will begin to administer the PARCC test this spring, even as the number of states supporting PARCC has dwindled from 26 several years ago to only 10 now. And Ms. Redmond would certainly support a withdrawal of her state, as she "cannot support the PARCC exam" and encourages others to voice their concern. To understand her reticence, she explains the serious concerns and criticisms she has of this new test:

In the literary analysis section of the sixth-grade sample test online, students have to read two excerpts: one from “Boy’s Life” by Robert McCammon, and “Emancipation: A Life Fable.” The final task is an essay: “Write an essay that identifi es a similar theme in eachtext and compares and contrasts the approaches each text uses to develop this theme. Be sure to support your response with evidence from both texts.” Say what? This is a multilevel task requiring very high levels of synthesizing and analyzing.

Sixth-graders are just beginning to extract theme from a text and put it into a statement. To compare and contrast two texts is a cumbersome task that takes time to plan and organize. The wording is not kid-friendly: “to contrast and compare the approaches,” I can hear the questions in my students’ minds: What’s an approach? How do I compare an approach? This question doesn’t even allow the struggling ELA student to enter the testing arena.

Furthermore, the thirdsection of the test is the narrative section. In the sample test, students read an excerpt from a story. In this case, it is “Magic Elizabeth,” by Norma Kassirer. Here is the task: “In the passage from ‘Magic Elizabeth,’ the author creates a vivid setting and two distinct characters, Mrs. Chipley and Sally. Write an original story about what happens when Sally arrives at Aunt Sarah’s house. In your story, be sure to use what you have learned about the setting and the characters as you tell what happens next.”

Students need to glean details from setting and character development and then continue them in an original story. This task requires a broad subset of skills. It would take four to six weeks to teach,review and practice these skills for students to approach this task with confidence. But why is this task on this test? Does this prepare students for college or a career? No: It is a specialized subset of skills for a writer.

I recall criticism about the MCAS long composition. PARCC supporters said that no boss was going to ask her employee to write a personal essay about their summer vacation. Well, no boss is going to require this narrative task, either. The narrative writing task has no place on a high-stakes test. Should I teach short story writing in my classroom? Absolutely. But don’t set my students up for failure using this as a part of statewide assessment.

These are legitimate and serious concerns. And, all concerned parties, from parents to educators to the legislators making the rules, should go online and scrutinize these exams. People should take practice tests themselves, and they should sit with their children as they try to navigate the assessment. It may - and should - change some minds.