I’m worried.
I don’t want to be, but I am.
Partly, this is the fault of who I am. I tend more towards the
cautious side. Partly, this is the fault of cold pitiless numbers. In this
instance, there are specific numbers to which I refer.
9,000
11,000
9,700
8,000
6,000
11,000
9,700
8,000
6,000
See what I mean? Ah no. Wait. It’s unlikely you do for I haven’t
put them into any context. Here’s how I should have posted them.
Physical
books checked out of our school library. (Numbers are rounded.)
4
years ago: 9,000
3 years ago: 11,000
2 years ago: 9,700
1 year ago: 8,000
Current year: 6,000
3 years ago: 11,000
2 years ago: 9,700
1 year ago: 8,000
Current year: 6,000
Have these numbers tickled your curious side? Or, like me, do they
skip the curiosity phase and go straight to alarming you?
Not alarmed? Eh, interesting.
Is it because you noticed the use of the words “physical books” to
describe the circulation numbers and figure the picture isn’t complete because our
school provides electronic versions of books to be checked out by students? Well,
you get a gold star for noticing. We do indeed provide electronic copies to our
students.
Here is the rounded number for electronic copies checked out this
school year: 1,800.
Using a high-powered calculator, we come to an adjusted number for
this school year of 7,800. The revised list should look like this. [NOTE: I did
not pull the number of electronic copies for any previous years as this is a
relatively new offering for our students.]
4
years ago: 9,000
3 years ago: 11,000
2 years ago: 9,700
1 year ago: 8,000
Current year: 7,800
3 years ago: 11,000
2 years ago: 9,700
1 year ago: 8,000
Current year: 7,800
On the surface, 7,800 doesn’t appear all too bad. It reflects a
small drop-off from the previous year, at the very least and maybe reflects the
adjustment phase as we transfer over from physical to electronic reading. But
that’s the problem with surfaces, they too often hide a reality beneath them;
and, in this case, we’re talking about the difference between solid oak and oak
veneer.
Students checked out 1,800 electronic books this year. It seems
solid. Seems.
Our electronic book library come with a nifty computer program
that lets us see a whole swath of things: who checked out what, which books are
most popular in a month, how many minutes a student spent with a book open, how
many pages they viewed, and so on, and on, and on.
The program allowed me to ballpark how many of those 1,800 checked
out books were actual titles checked out versus those which were the same title
checked out by the same students over several periods. The new number drops
closer to 730. A big difference.
Of those 730 or so actual checked out titles, it appears as if
only 40-50 were read in full. That’s the data I care about; the data I worry
about.
Of the 1,800 books checked out, only 40-50 of them show as having
been read in full. And, this is with me being rather lenient and giving credit
for books close to done because I don’t know how many blank, filler, author
biography, first chapters of other books, etc. are along with a title. Another
wrinkle is that swiping through pages and/or skipping to the end of a digital
copy registers as completed in the computer program. We do have the ability to
see minutes read and could try and match those to pages read, but that’s a task
I’m unwilling to tackle this Saturday morning. Suffice it to write, 40-50 may
not even be a true picture of what was read electronically. The same principal
applies to the physical books too. Just because they were checked out doesn’t
mean they were read in full.
If that caveat isn’t enough to question the solidity of that
number, then consider that a large number of these “read” books were checked
out for books clubs or whole class activities and were what I think of as forced checkouts: they were for class,
not for idle enjoyment. The same applies to the physical copies that left the
library. Many were for book club or whole class assignments and not necessarily
for enjoyment reading. This stipulation applies to any previous year too, of
course, which does nothing to change the trend. It’s moving down, not up.
Because I can only conjecture on who actually read what was
checked out, I won’t lower that 4-50 total. However, it is one to be taken very lightly at best. Here’s the revised
total for the current school year.
Current
year: 6,050
Not as hopeful.
It did manage to get the physical circulation numbers for the
grade above ours, grade 7, for the last two years. Here are those.
2015-2016 school year 5,500 books circulated.
2016-2017 school year 4,000 books
circulated.
Another drop off. Yes, the middle
school offers electronic books too, but I do not have those numbers. Again, I
can only conjecture, but I’d go with the same scenario as our own building and
assume it’s a much smaller number than the physical totals and one that can be
taken with a grain of salt.
A-LAR-MING!
The big question is why is the trend
going the wrong way?
It’s not at all as if we’ve suddenly
changed our teaching style, goals, or enthusiasm for reading. Education rarely
changes quickly and a love of reading would be the last thing to leave or
bones. No, we remain a department of eight Language Arts teacher and one curmudgeonly
skeptical reading teacher, employing a Reader’s and Writer’s workshop model,
who love our books. Love them!
Maybe there’s been personnel change? Yes,
there’s been some turnover in personnel but not much. Insignificant. The
district, school, and individual goals all remain the same: we want to foster natural
readers and writers.
Can’t lay blame on our administration
or librarians because they’re the same people who were with us over the last
five years. They’ve been as supportive emotionally, professionally, and
financially as anyone can expect.
What’s changed?
Well, this is where it all gets messy. Messy as heck,
because who knows exactly?
Possibly, students are buying more books at home, using the
town library more, or passing on books they’re not likely to read again. Not
that’d I wager on any of those instances as being the primary issues. Home life
continues to evolve. We know many of our students have robust after-school
lives, but that’s been true for many, many years. Home electronics present
another possibility to why reading seems to be eroding, despite our efforts.
There too, I wonder. Game systems, iPads, laptops, and personal phones have
been in our community’s hands for years now.
Though I may well be pilloried for this, I can really only
point to one big change in our classrooms; and that is the introduction of
iPads. We have had one-to-one (one iPad for each student) access for several
years now at various grade levels, working from our high school down. This year was only
our first year with each student having his or her own iPad for use throughout
the school day. We did have them in sets for teams to access, but they were shared and not carried around all day by the students. The HS, depending on the grade level, has had them for 4 years
now and some elementary grade levels for a year or two. Middle school has had
them for 2-3, I believe. In other words, there is some verifiable overlap between these devices and the circulation timeline presented in this article.
I know, I know. They’re a tool and not going anywhere
anytime soon. Got it. And yes, every teacher set the tone for these tools. You
can ask every student who enters your room to put them away to work with
physical paper if you like. This does happen. It just...feels like a harder stance to maintain.
I’m not looking to debate the good or bad of the device. It
does have some amazing capabilities and has allowed our students to do some
terrific things because of them. It’s just that the downside, in this reading
teacher’s opinion, is concerning. There’s no longer a barrier or distinction
between home behaviors with devices and school behaviors because they're now ever present. The phone or iPad at
home is for games, texting, researching, and reacting to it every time it chimes.
While we watch strictly how students use them in school, their belief is that
what they do at home is how to use them in school, and how to react to them in school. The iPad is sometimes more authoritative
and commanding of attention than the teacher in the room. Think about that. If you doubt this, then think about that the next time you’re speaking with someone, your phone chimes,
and you reach for it without thinking.
Anyone who’s used an iPad for his or her reading knows the
pitfalls. It truly is a challenge to
remain lost in a book. Notifications intrude often and if there’s a moment of
weakness while reading it becomes all too easy to decide to just “check on
something”: email, FB, some Amazon product, etc.
This is not to blame the students. I’m no better at home
sometimes, which is why I’ve moved back to physical copies of books exclusively
the last two years. I can’t trust myself on an iPad to remain focused, to read
and think deeply.
Our response to this next year, as a department, will
be an increase in sustained reading within the school day. We’re also planning to offer book-swaps and increased time for students to spend
time investigating new, physical, copies of books.
Who knows, we may even have to
explore the mindfulness of reading, the mental value that comes from focused, meditative-like engagement with a text.
Oh and please, before anyone tells me how people and kids
are reading more than ever because of how much time they spend on their devices
visiting sites and working on things, let me chuckle right now.
It’s not true in my eyes and that’s for two reasons. One, I’m
a self-admitted curmudgeon and skeptic. I say nay to things first and wait for
proof to be convinced otherwise. Two, there’s a vast difference between glazing
over swaths of words and actual, deep, even meditative, reading of words. It’s
like saying that because kids are texting thousands of words a day, they’re writing
more than ever. Nope, not sold. Besides, the trend appears to be moving to emojis
only. Though I won’t use them (still -proudly- don’t own a phone), if I had to
this article would end with a thumbs down, worried face, and giant question
mark set of signs.