Good morning! We’ve made it to another Tuesday, which feels like no small feat right now.
I don’t know about you but I am living one day at a time, perhaps more than ever before, which is very good for me and also infuriating. I feel numb and overcome, and I refuse to answer any questions about the future that exists beyond a month from now, because who even knows anymore? If this is you, too — especially if you have small children, especially if you are trying to navigate the Omicron Tilt-a-Whirl of frustration and uncertainty, especially if, say, your school district has recently emailed to admit they have given up on both testing and contact tracing and basically, everyone’s exposed, good luck to you and your family: please know that I see you. You are not alone. I personally remain on a wobbly-but-mostly-even keel via a combination of 12 Step meetings, high-intensity interval training, mid-afternoon coffee (I don’t drink coffee), not attending every fight I’m invited to, sighing a lot, swearing a lot (actually I do those things anyway), taking long walks where I talk to myself out loud the whole time, unfollowing people, talking to my brother on the phone on my way to work, ranting to my boss when I get there, darning socks, and noticing the blue light outside in the mornings.
I hope that you, too, have things that are keeping you upright. Even if the foremost thing is your determination not to fall over — I’m so proud of you for getting up in the morning and doing your day and going to bed at night and then getting up the next day to do it all again. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.
What we’re reading
Annie and the Wild Animals by Jan Brett
Geraldine’s Big Snow by Holly Keller (I reviewed this and the last title in my 2020 special edition on winter)
Missing Mittens by Stuart J. Murphy (we adore this book!)
The BFG by Roald Dahl (this is our current read-aloud)
(Guess what? These are no longer affiliate links ⬆️ If you click through and make a purchase, I’ll have no idea and I’ll no longer have to include a legal disclaimer with every post because I won’t be compensated. All links in all emails from now on will be simple, regular links.)
📫 Questions from you
Today’s question is from Rebecca, and it’s a great one:
Do you discuss things with your kids about the books? Plotline? Climax? Characters? Like/dislike? I usually end up asking how they think the characters are feeling and forget the other questions… I guess we are at that stage?!
💌 Dear Reader,
First of all, let me say that I’m not sure the stage where you ask what the characters are feeling has a definitive end. I certainly still ask that question all the time, maybe because yes, it’s easy to forget the others, but also because I think social-emotional learning is an ongoing process.
In the case of discussing the books we read, I have always taken a very Montessori, “follow the child” approach — meaning that I have spent time and intentional effort in observing how they interact with books (and me, and each other) while reading, I have used those observations to inform our discussion practice, I meet them where they are and support them when I think it could benefit them.
In practice, this looks like asking questions as we read, yes, but I have also found that neither of my particular children especially like this. When I first began to go beyond, “What do you think so-and-so is feeling?” as our single, go-to question to queries like, “What do you think is going to happen next?” (before turning the page), they refused to engage, shouting, “Mom! Turn the page!”
Maybe I picked the wrong moment, maybe the suspense was too much, but I have found that asking questions while reading has been neither fruitful nor pleasant for us as we read together and has, more than anything, taken away from being present in the moment of the book. (I imagine how I feel when I’m interrupted while reading and I understand it entirely.)
Instead, I take two different approaches, and I think of them sort of like bookends:
The first is at the end of the reading (and there is a reason I am starting with the end): it’s the technique of asking five open-ended questions, which I learned from Sarah Mackenzie in her excellent book, The Read-Aloud Family: Making Meaningful and Lasting Connections with Your Kids (which I reviewed in issue No. 33). She has since offered a greatly-abbreviated but still super helpful PDF on her website that highlights the conversational process and shares the questions themselves:
Should he/she have done that?
How is X like/different from Y?
Who was _____ in this story?
What other story does this one remind you of?
What is something you don’t want to forget?
Again, full credit here to Sarah Mackenzie, who also has a couple of beneficial podcast episodes about this topic, #166: What’s the Deal With Open-Ended Questions? and #02: Engaging Conversations - How To Talk to Your Kids About Books, A Conversation with Adam Andrews. Everything I know about these topics has come from her, and I strongly suggest using any/all of these resources to learn more.
The second “bookend” is at the beginning of reading, and it’s a technique I stole (are you sensing a theme here?) and then adapted from the Charlotte Mason homeschooling method called narration. I mentioned narration in the April issue of (How) Can we read?, which was all about strategies for raising readers, but the idea is, basically, retelling.
There is a ton of thought and intent behind narration and I am going to sell it short here (if you want to dive in, get your hands on a copy of Know and Tell: The Art of Narration by Karen Glass — it’s helpful, and in some ways I think understanding the theory behind narration makes for a better practice), but essentially I ask my children, “What happened last time in this story? Can you tell it back to me in your own words?” I don’t prompt them, give them clues, or ask leading questions — I merely listen to what they remember, whatever their amazing stretchy brains bring to the top.
(I want to pause here for a second and mention that narration doesn’t have to be limited to verbal retelling. “Narration Ideas” via Simply Charlotte Mason offers an excellent roundup of the many ways in which you might “do” narration. At various times and motivated entirely by my children, we’ve played out a book we’ve read; we’ve painted scenes from a story; we’ve sketched, colored, and cut out characters; we’ve made mini books that retell the original version of the story or our revised one; we’ve built the setting of the story with Legos or MagnaTiles and then taken off in whatever direction we please. My point is, don’t get hung up on narration — discussing, question-asking, what have you — as only one thing, a verbal thing. There are as many ways to connect over and process shared reading as there are ways to experience a story. That’s the fun of it.)
Most people do narration in this sense immediately after reading — i.e., when closing the book, you might say, “What just happened? Can you tell it back to me in your own words?” but in trying it both ways, I find my specific kids are more amenable to doing it before diving into material we’re revisiting, or moving further into. This is decidedly not “true” narration in the Charlotte Mason sense, but flexing things (including educational theory) to meet your needs is the beauty of getting to do whatever the heck you want in your own home with your own family, no?
This is a good segue into my saying — and please hear me on this — however you are discussing things with your kids about books (including if you are not discussing things with your kids about books) is just fine. Talking about what you’re reading, regardless of whether it’s before, during, or after, is great, but it’s not going to make or break the benefits of reading aloud. It’s extra. It’s like brushing your hair — recommended for sure but not anywhere near as important as brushing your teeth.
I am sure some people would willingly fight me on this, and — as ever — I may even be wrong. But I am not wrong that the most critical part of reading to your children remains reading to your children, full stop.
Find a way that works for you, and keep going. You’re doing a great job.
Sarah
Have a question you’d like me to answer? Something you need help with, anything you’re curious about? Don’t be shy! Reply to this message (or fill out this form to remain anonymous, if you’d prefer).