Questioning Assumptions with Steinbeck

My Steinbeck author study continues. In today’s lesson, the students examined the theme of appearances vs. reality and had a chance to think about assumptions and labels in the three books and in their lives.

First, the students folded a sheet of paper and into four sections and wrote the names of four characters, depending on which book they’re reading. Students reading Of Mice and Men used Lennie, George, Curley, and Curley’s wife. Those reading The Red Pony used Jody, Carl Tiflin, Billy Buck, and Gitano. For Cannery Row, they wrote Doc, Dora, Mack, and Lee Chong. In the boxes, students listed things people might assume about each character without knowing him or her well. I asked, “How might people label or judge this character?” I urged the students to consider appearance, job, living situation, interactions with other characters, and other behaviors.

Perhaps because they’re in a middle school minefield of assumptions and judgments, the groups had no trouble coming up with labels. Some felt uncomfortable and asked if it was OK to label Lennie as retarded or Curley’s wife as a slut. I reminded them that the purpose of the activity was to dig deeper into the theme of appearances but that they were right to feel uncomfortable about using offensive terms. I wish they’d picked up on the race prejudices in how characters view Lee Chong in Cannery Row and Gitano in The Red Pony. We’ll definitely be coming back to that when we talk about forms of power in Steinbeck’s books.

After about 10 minutes of students identifying labels and assumptions, I asked, “Which of the assumptions you listed about your character are true? False? Unknown?” They marked each item T for True, F for False, or U for Unknown based on textual evidence. Interestingly, many of the assumptions they identified turned out to be false or unknown; for example, there isn’t one shred of textual evidence that Curley’s wife actually sleeps around. Careful reading will reveal that far from being greedy, Lee Chong is very generous and cuts off credit only when it becomes necessary. Neither Mack, who is homeless and unemployed, nor Lennie, who is disabled, is stupid. Then again, some assumptions turn out to be true: Doc really is smart and kind, and Curley’s wife does in fact cause trouble.

Next, I asked groups to consider which of these characters they actually like. On the board, I circled these characters’ names. Then I went back to the labels. I said, “If these are the characters Steinbeck wants us to like—a mentally disabled guy, a simple farm boy, a homeless and unemployed man—what is Steinbeck trying to tell us about appearances and assumptions?” Students wrote their answers in paragraph form, and I asked them to share insights. Lots of kids said variations on, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Others said that if we can like people who are different from the way we are, maybe we shouldn’t judge them on those outer characteristics. One student said something like, “We like the characters who we know the most about. But maybe if we knew more about Curley, like why he feels the need to be so insecure and hate people, maybe we’d like him too.”

I found that last point particularly compelling, that we can empathize with others and like them more when we know their stories. (It will be interesting to see whether, after hearing more of Curley’s wife’s story, the students reading Of Mice and Men begin to like her more.) I’d like to ask students to think about their own stories that they reveal, conceal, repeat, revise, remember, and forget. A friend of mine pointed out that stories are social currency: which stories we tell, who we tell them to, and how we tell them plays a large part in how our images are constructed. Elections are won and lost because of stories. Defendants are convicted or acquitted based on how their stories are told. Romances and business deals are built and destroyed with stories. And, as my student pointed out today, we can reach out across the wide valleys that separate us from each other with our stories. When we tell stories, we give others a chance to ask questions instead of making assumptions, to understand instead of judge. I believe Steinbeck wrote his books at least in part so he could tell stories that weren’t being told, so readers would label a little less and relate a little more.

I closed the class by asking the students to close their eyes and picture a student in the middle school that they don’t really know and don’t really like. I asked, “What assumptions are you making about this person? How are you labeling him or her? How are you judging? Maybe if you knew more of this person’s story, you’d like the person better. Just something to think about.”

What Kids Can Learn From an Author Study (That They Can't Learn from One Class Novel)

This week, I started my much-anticipated (at least for me) John Steinbeck author study where students pick one of three Steinbeck novels: Of Mice and Men, Cannery Row, or The Red Pony. In the past, I’ve taught Of Mice and Men as a class novel, but I wanted to provide more choice for my students. I’ve read enough arguments that whole-class novel studies don’t address students’ diverse needs as readers and lead to only a few kids doing most of the talking (because they like and understand the book) while the rest of the class is frog-marched through the reading—if they even do the reading—and count minutes during class. Given some choice, kids are more likely to find a book they like and to contribute to their group discussions. So far, that’s just what I’m finding.

On the other end of the choice-in-reading spectrum, I’m not quite ready to let everyone pick whatever book they want. I recognize the strong arguments in favor of total student choice: they’re more likely to enjoy reading and want to read on their own; teachers can guide students toward more appropriate choices after establishing a relationship of trust (more likely to occur when a student feels the teacher takes his or her initial choices seriously); a student is more likely to grasp sophisticated elements of literature, like motifs and symbolism, in an accessible book; a student is more likely to take risks in discussions if s/he feels s/he understands the text on the surface. I get it.

But still, having seen so many students rise to the challenge of a text on the edge of their comfort zone, I see the value in pushing them to that edge. And, I know from the “gradual release of responsibility” model of teaching reading that students need a slightly lower-level text for independent reading than for guided reading. In short, students can read more difficult books for class than they do for themselves. And, a common text helps students build community because it gives them a non-threatening starting point—and a point of comparison—for discussing deep and difficult issues in their own lives. It’s easier to talk about, say, seeking approval in The Red Pony than it is for them, at thirteen, to discuss how they seek their own parents’ approval. And giving more kids access to the same text means more of them can participate in such discussions.

So, I created my Steinbeck author study as a happy middle ground between the class novel and free student choice. Because my default model in class is to give small groups of kids an activity, I’m able to use many of the activities I used for Of Mice and Men, but now for all three books. For example, last year, one way I’ve had the student think about setting was to have them sketch a landscape, map, or “image collage” of the pool in chapter 1. Within the drawing, they write short quotations to show where they got their ideas. I explain that the activity helps them visualize the setting more clearly, appreciate Steinbeck’s precise description, and begin to notice how Steinbeck uses his settings to convey themes and set up conflicts—almost like the setting is another character in the book. To deepen this last point, I have students list adjectives to describe the setting. What kind of place is this?

Because the students this year are all reading different books—and only because they’re reading different books—I was able to take this activity one step further. In their book groups, students came to a consensus on the 3-5 best adjectives to describe their settings, and I put these lists on the board. Then I asked each group to look at the lists they had not made—the adjectives describing the settings from the other two books—and note the ones that could describe their book’s setting too. I circled adjectives that could describe two or more Steinbeck settings, words like natural, peaceful, isolated, simple, and beautiful. After reading the list out loud, I asked, “So, if these are the words that describe Steinbeck settings, what are some of the ideas Steinbeck is concerned with? What messages is he trying to send by setting his books in these kinds of places?”

The kids hit on some important points. That Steinbeck is concerned with the interaction between the human world and the natural world. That there’s always an isolation factor. That the places he describes aren’t exactly tourist destinations, but Steinbeck finds the beauty in them. All of these ideas come up in the motifs, symbols, and plot conflicts in the three books, and now we’ll be able to refer back to them. And again, the students were able to make these observations precisely because they’re reading different books.