My reading groups are going fairly well, apart from the nightmare tech issues in fourth period today, with my breakout rooms dropping kids and glitching out in various manners.
When I drop in to the groups, they’re usually talking, or at least deciding who will talk next. A few groups are lost in conversation (and I have to force myself not to linger too long in those, for they are not the ones who really need me), while others are moving along in fits and starts.
One group, however, is just not working at all. They’re not moved by the story, they can’t think of any engaging questions to ask, and none of them are very comfortable talking. I tried to breathe life into it, but I knew it was a lost cause.
“Okay, guys. How do you feel about the book?”
“Um. It’s okay, I guess.”
“Are you interested in it at all?”
…
“Not really, I guess,” offered one bubble.
“Um, nah,” offered another.
“I guess not,” said the other.
I glanced across the room at my bookshelves, filled with lonely books.
“Hang on.” I grabbed an assortment and did a mini book talk for them. They quickly agreed that Armstrong and Charlie sounded pretty good.
“Okay, I’m dropping them off at your houses after school. Let me just make sure I have your correct addresses.” Them seemed a little surprised; I’m not sure if it was because I can find out where they live in about a minute or that I was willing to drop them off – maybe a combination.
When school was over, I mapped out my route, which started with a northeast shot over to Clarendon, then swung southwest down Walter Reed, and ended near Wakefield HS. I met a gracious mom, who tried to invite me in, a precious poodle jumping up and down on my legs, and a thankful dad waving from the porch.
Now, I just hope they read it and talk about it!
My Corner of the Village 