READING STRATEGIES
In English Language Arts 8, over the rest of the year we will be employing reading comprehension strategies in a variety of contexts to help get more out of what we are reading. One of the key factors in reading comprehension and retention is student awareness to their own thought process, and we will focus on this specifically in our Read-Think-Writes unit. Whenever reading, students should be employing the following comprehension strategies to help with their understanding, retention, and ability to engage with the text:
1. Making Predictions (they don't have to be right...but guessing at what is to come can be an effective way to stay involved)
2. Asking Questions (don't need to be answerable, but help keep a reader aware of what is going on).
3. Summarizing (an area of weakness for our students - selecting and retelling key ideas and details is a very important skill for retention)
4. Making Connections (any time a student can make a connection to something they've seen, read or experienced, they have a better chance of remembering the material).
5. Creating Images (visualizing details of what one has read, can be a huge aid in understanding)
6. Making Inferences (constructing educated guesses by using provided information, contextual clues and prior knowledge to "read between the lines")
7. Being Aware of What You're Thinking (keeping track of everything you think of...even if it's off topic, can be an effective way to recognize your train of thought, notice when it's derailed and get it back on track.)
Ultimately, the best way to improve reading comprehension is to read, so find material that interests you and read as much as you can. In English 9, every class will begin with 10-15 minutes of silent reading where students will be expected select their own reading material and journal their progress. Quite simply, the more you read, the better you will get!
1. Making Predictions (they don't have to be right...but guessing at what is to come can be an effective way to stay involved)
2. Asking Questions (don't need to be answerable, but help keep a reader aware of what is going on).
3. Summarizing (an area of weakness for our students - selecting and retelling key ideas and details is a very important skill for retention)
4. Making Connections (any time a student can make a connection to something they've seen, read or experienced, they have a better chance of remembering the material).
5. Creating Images (visualizing details of what one has read, can be a huge aid in understanding)
6. Making Inferences (constructing educated guesses by using provided information, contextual clues and prior knowledge to "read between the lines")
7. Being Aware of What You're Thinking (keeping track of everything you think of...even if it's off topic, can be an effective way to recognize your train of thought, notice when it's derailed and get it back on track.)
Ultimately, the best way to improve reading comprehension is to read, so find material that interests you and read as much as you can. In English 9, every class will begin with 10-15 minutes of silent reading where students will be expected select their own reading material and journal their progress. Quite simply, the more you read, the better you will get!
STRATEGIES SHEET - For Read-Think-Writes
reading_strategies.odt | |
File Size: | 12 kb |
File Type: | odt |
READ-THINK-WRITES - Oct/Nov (**most recent at top)
#6. November 7.
"The Rest of My Life" Original Song & Music video by Less Than Jake
1. Whole group discussion re: what kinds of predictions could we make before hearing a song we don't know.
2. Students given song lyrics (below) and five minutes to read and respond.
3. Group discussion and sharing - especially predictions and questions.
4. Watched music video (below) twice - students given 5 minutes to respond.
5. Group discussion and sharing.
2. Students given song lyrics (below) and five minutes to read and respond.
3. Group discussion and sharing - especially predictions and questions.
4. Watched music video (below) twice - students given 5 minutes to respond.
5. Group discussion and sharing.
I fell asleep last Saturday
Underneath polluted skies I walked alone on those Jersey nights, and I Saw the boardwalk start to fall The emptiness starts to drown The quiet corners of this town, and I... Late last night, I made my plans It was the only thing I felt I could do Said goodbye, to my best friend Sometimes there's no one left to tell you the truth It's gonna kill me... The rest of my life Let me apologize while I'm still alive I know it's time to face all of my past mistakes It's gonna kill me for the rest of my life This is my all time low Somehow it feels so familiar Somehow it seems so familiar I feel like letting go And every second that goes by I'm screaming out for a second try Said goodbye, to my best friend Sometimes there's no one left to tell me the truth It's gonna kill me... The rest of my life Let me apologize while I'm still alive I know it's time to face all of my past mistakes I've got to live with them rest of my life This is the mess I've made These are the words I can't erase This is my life support, shutting down, for the final time And it twists like a blade And kills me for the rest of my life If you won't forgive me The rest of my life Let me apologize while I'm still alive I know it's time to face all of my past mistakes It's gonna kill me for the rest of my life... |
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#5. November 3.
"Humans of New York" Photographs and Stories from Brandon Stanton
1. Students given some context and explanation behind the "Humans of New York" project.
2. Students asked predict why the photographer chose the word "Human" instead of something else
3. Handed out package to students to read and look at. (3 samples from package below)
4. After an initial 5-10 minutes in which students can look through pictures, they were given 5 minutes to write/respond.
5. Group discussion & sharing.
2. Students asked predict why the photographer chose the word "Human" instead of something else
3. Handed out package to students to read and look at. (3 samples from package below)
4. After an initial 5-10 minutes in which students can look through pictures, they were given 5 minutes to write/respond.
5. Group discussion & sharing.
#4. October 28.
"Back When I Never Knew" Poem by Dennis Lee
1. Students were given the poem's title only - "Back When I Never Knew" - and asked to make at least one question and one prediction about the content of the poem.
2. Students were given a handout of the poem, a few minutes to read, and then asked to write for 5 minutes without stopping. Their written responses could be in any form, and may or may not have attempted to employ some or all of the reading strategies.
2. Students were given a handout of the poem, a few minutes to read, and then asked to write for 5 minutes without stopping. Their written responses could be in any form, and may or may not have attempted to employ some or all of the reading strategies.
Back When I Never Knew
Sometimes when the ache gets
too much, or my
friends start freaking and I'm not so cool myself,
or the whole world feels like it's sliding straight to ratshit---
sometimes I think back to a
bedtime long ago, I might have been four and my
mom still read to us; anyway, this one night
I stopped her, and I said the book out loud,
word for word, page-turn for page-turn, and it was
cool, it was perfect, it was all
pretend because the thing is, I still couldn't read.
But I was racing to big-kid freedom, just
chasing my runaway heart; I was chugging to paradise, to
light in the grown-up world -- coronas of
freefall light in the fever and stations of growing. And I knew,
wherever I went, my mom would always be there...
Oh man, sometimes when the ache gets too much I
think back to then, back to when I was so
hot to be older, and everything big was golden,
and the brand new world was waiting to show me secrets --
back when I never knew; I just
never knew.
too much, or my
friends start freaking and I'm not so cool myself,
or the whole world feels like it's sliding straight to ratshit---
sometimes I think back to a
bedtime long ago, I might have been four and my
mom still read to us; anyway, this one night
I stopped her, and I said the book out loud,
word for word, page-turn for page-turn, and it was
cool, it was perfect, it was all
pretend because the thing is, I still couldn't read.
But I was racing to big-kid freedom, just
chasing my runaway heart; I was chugging to paradise, to
light in the grown-up world -- coronas of
freefall light in the fever and stations of growing. And I knew,
wherever I went, my mom would always be there...
Oh man, sometimes when the ache gets too much I
think back to then, back to when I was so
hot to be older, and everything big was golden,
and the brand new world was waiting to show me secrets --
back when I never knew; I just
never knew.
#3. October 24.
"The Script - Room 8" Basic Script & Award winning short film created for Imagination Series
Steps:
1. Students were first given some context and explanation of the Imagination Series (essentially a short film contest where all submissions are based around the same basic script,) written by Geoffrey Fletcher.
2. Students were handed out the basic script given to contest participants and asked to write for *3 minutes - making predictions/questions/connections etc.
3. Class viewed the short film titled "Room 8." (below) After watching twice, students were given an additional *3 minutes to continue writing/applying reading strategies and putting thought process down on paper.
1. Students were first given some context and explanation of the Imagination Series (essentially a short film contest where all submissions are based around the same basic script,) written by Geoffrey Fletcher.
2. Students were handed out the basic script given to contest participants and asked to write for *3 minutes - making predictions/questions/connections etc.
3. Class viewed the short film titled "Room 8." (below) After watching twice, students were given an additional *3 minutes to continue writing/applying reading strategies and putting thought process down on paper.
Script scanned as PDF below (2 files)
Page 1
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Page 2
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#2. October 17-19.
"Saturday Night" P.S.A. Storyboard by MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving)
This was students' first run through the R-T-W process. Commercial was shown afterwards to reinforce understanding.
Scanned Handout below (front and back as separate files).
Page 1
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Page 2
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#1. October 13.
"The Dead Seal on McLure's Beach" Prose by Robert Bly
This was done as a practice run - modelled by Teacher (text below)
1
Walking north along the point, I find a dead seal. From a few feet away, he looks like a brown log. The body is on its back, dead only a few hours. I stand and look at him. There’s a quiver in the dead flesh: My God, he’s still alive. And a shock goes through me, as if a wall of my room had fallen away.
His head is arched back, the small eyes closed; the whiskers sometimes rise and fall. He is dying. This is oil. Here on its back is the oil that heats our houses so efficiently. Wind blows fine sand back toward the ocean. The flipper near me lies folded over the stomach, looking like an unfinished arm, lightly glazed with sand at its edges. The other flipper lies half underneath. And the seal’s skin looks like an old over coat, scratched here and there — by sharp mussel shells maybe.
I reach out and touch him. Suddenly, he rears up, turns over. He gives three cries: Awaark! Awaark! Awaark! — like the cries from Christmas toys. He lunges toward me, I am terrified and leap back, though I know there can be no teeth in that jaw. He starts flopping toward the sea. But he falls over, on his face. He does not want to go back to the sea. He looks up at the sky, and he looks like and old lady who has lost her hair. He puts his chin back down on the sand, rearranges his flippers, and waits for me to go. I go. 2
The next day I go back to say goodbye. He’s dead now. But he’s not. He’s a quarter mile farther up the shore. Today he is thinner, squatting on his stomach, head out. The ribs show more: each vertebra on the back under the coat is visible, shiny. He breathes in and out.
A wave comes in, touches his nose. He turns and looks at me — the eyes slanted; the crown of his head looks like a boy’s leather jacket bending over some bicycycle bars. He is taking a long time to die. The whiskers white as porcupine quills, the forehead slopes.
Goodbye, brother, die in the sound of the waves. Forgive us if we have killed you. Long live your race, your inner-tube race, so uncomfortable on the land, so comfortable in the ocean. Be comfortable in death, then, when the sand will be out of your nostrils, and you can swim in long loops through the pure death, ducking under as assassinations break above you. You don’t want to be touched by me. I climb the cliff and go home the other way.
1
Walking north along the point, I find a dead seal. From a few feet away, he looks like a brown log. The body is on its back, dead only a few hours. I stand and look at him. There’s a quiver in the dead flesh: My God, he’s still alive. And a shock goes through me, as if a wall of my room had fallen away.
His head is arched back, the small eyes closed; the whiskers sometimes rise and fall. He is dying. This is oil. Here on its back is the oil that heats our houses so efficiently. Wind blows fine sand back toward the ocean. The flipper near me lies folded over the stomach, looking like an unfinished arm, lightly glazed with sand at its edges. The other flipper lies half underneath. And the seal’s skin looks like an old over coat, scratched here and there — by sharp mussel shells maybe.
I reach out and touch him. Suddenly, he rears up, turns over. He gives three cries: Awaark! Awaark! Awaark! — like the cries from Christmas toys. He lunges toward me, I am terrified and leap back, though I know there can be no teeth in that jaw. He starts flopping toward the sea. But he falls over, on his face. He does not want to go back to the sea. He looks up at the sky, and he looks like and old lady who has lost her hair. He puts his chin back down on the sand, rearranges his flippers, and waits for me to go. I go. 2
The next day I go back to say goodbye. He’s dead now. But he’s not. He’s a quarter mile farther up the shore. Today he is thinner, squatting on his stomach, head out. The ribs show more: each vertebra on the back under the coat is visible, shiny. He breathes in and out.
A wave comes in, touches his nose. He turns and looks at me — the eyes slanted; the crown of his head looks like a boy’s leather jacket bending over some bicycycle bars. He is taking a long time to die. The whiskers white as porcupine quills, the forehead slopes.
Goodbye, brother, die in the sound of the waves. Forgive us if we have killed you. Long live your race, your inner-tube race, so uncomfortable on the land, so comfortable in the ocean. Be comfortable in death, then, when the sand will be out of your nostrils, and you can swim in long loops through the pure death, ducking under as assassinations break above you. You don’t want to be touched by me. I climb the cliff and go home the other way.