From the title you might expect that this piece will be about a group of people meeting to talk about books, but I have a different story to tell.

It’s Black History month, and I saved the Martin Luther King birthday issue of Time for Kids. This marks a departure from their usual self-selected “chapter book” reading. Asking them to read this article and answer questions about it is outright schoolwork, and I am a brute!

We’re in school, after all, and we’re here to find out a thing or two about the world. It’s the informational part of the institutional mission. So how do I get a bunch of fourth-graders who are reading Lemony Snicket, and Little House on the Prairie, and the Babysitters Club, and Sideways Stories from Wayside School to wrap their minds around what is in that article? I bully them with a set of questions and blank spaces, of course. I’m not proud of myself, but that’s how it’s done. Right?

The article wasn’t much, since it chopped out all of the drama, all of the pain and anguish. The picture of people marching, and the story about Dr. King’s assassination are incomprehensible without a lot of background - which is most of the difficulty we have teaching from written texts. To read that short article, the kids had to know the meaning of segregation, prejudice, civil rights, boycott, and a few other things that were altogether outside their conceptual universe. And I had them look up the words in dictionaries.

But wait, it wasn’t that bad. First they looked through the magazine at all of the more light-hearted stuff. Then they shared in groups of 3 what they had seen or looked at. THEN we worked our way through the article, pausing to discuss key concepts. This is called scaffolding in research journals, but I call it helping in the classroom.

Thinking that we weren’t done, and that these children needed more institutional whiplash, exposure to our culture’s bleak and tortured history, and so that they could be properly acculturated to the ways of the academy should they ever hope to pursue such a path, I handed them two-column note paper with the headings “I Learned” and “I wonder.” Not leaving anything to chance, I told them that ‘learned’ was a euphemism for “It says in the article” and “I wonder” means that you need to find at least 5 gnarly words (I really did say that) having to do with civil rights. And Oh! You have to read the article. A few laughed.

I put them in teams of three and had them scatter about the room. I explained that there was another paper, one with questions on it, that they would need the notes for later. The rest of the afternoon was a mess. Finding words in dictionaries, rephrasing definitions, negotiating turn-taking to read the article, everything took a long long time. I was comfortable and satisfied because it’s what I expected. I know that dictionaries are lousy sources for word learning. I know that questions after the reading are terrible ways to “assess” comprehension.

My questions were simple, though. “What is meant by civil rights? What was Martin Luther King’s dream? What is a boycott? What is segregation? Tell one more thing about Martin Luther King that is mentioned in the article.

Slowly, slowly, they worked through this stringy academic meal. These kinds of lessons fool kids into thinking that they know something about school. These exercises induce sweat, self-pity, and uncertainty in even the most smug and self-confident. But I don’t think they learned very much about Dr. King. What I think they learned is that he had something to do with a bunch of unhappiness in our history, and that reading Time for Kids is not very much fun.

Here’s the part about the literacy club. While I was surveying this forced march through a magazine article, I thought about how useful these kinds of tasks are for keeping kids busy. Now that they know how to read well enough to look things up, reading can become an end in itself. I could do this continually if I wanted to. What a terrific club literacy is for subjugating and controlling people in school, I thought. It keeps them docile, and allows me to force them look for meanings that I have determined ahead of time. They learn compliance and accountability. Literacy is a useful tool for creating a passive public. Neal Postman said that what is public about school is not that we serve the public, but that we create a public through schooling.

Of course, not everyone moves smoothly through the system, and for some literacy in school is seen for what it is - drudgery. In these cases, the club leaves no socially redeeming marks.

To let myself off the hook just a bit for this infraction, this lapse into conventionalism, I should say that I think it is worthwhile to introduce topics of cultural consequence to kids, and to show them how to work through difficult material. I also believe that we need to expose kids to dry and inconsiderate texts. We need to do it, though, in ways that help the kids process what they are doing. The dictionary, however, is a miserable way to generalize a concept for a word, and is not recommended. It is an expedient, and I use it mainly to teach kids how to use it - an antiquated technology.

Tomorrow, we can search Google images for the words segregation and civil rights, and see if the idea takes on a little bit more meaning. The trick to making the literacy club a source of power rather than an object of dread is to show the kids how to use it for their own purposes. This little exercise with the magazine was just an opener. Now it’s time to let them hammer with it for a while and see what they construct.