By Marissa Cota

The most joyful part about being a Reading Recovery Teacher Leader is observing the relationships built between students, teachers, and within learning communities. A recent podcast suggests that the learning community is brainwashed. That’s far from the truth.

 

The Bible?

“I called it my bible,” a teacher scoffs on the podcast about Literacy Lessons Designed for Individuals. My mouth dropped. I was dismayed — how could a formerly trained teacher say that? As if the contents of Literacy Lessons Designed for Individuals were intended to be scripture, religion, or prayer? How was her experience so different than my own?

I have encountered teachers who want a scripted path. Some teachers do the same procedures, no matter what the child is doing, because “this is what I do every year.” Reading Recovery doesn’t work that way.

At the start of my training year, I was that teacher. “Tell me what to do, and I will do it exactly right.” “It worked for this child, but not the others.” It took persistent, deliberate, and studied work to understand that I must be so well-studied in the child and theory to be able to select the right procedure at the moment. When I observe the child, and there is evidence that a specific procedure will catapult the child’s understanding forward, I use it at that time.

The work is demanding; it takes analysis, planning, reflection, and study, and the job is never mastered, so this job is not for everyone. There is nothing wrong with that, but I do this work to make the greatest possible impact on every child I teach.

 

The Cult?

Reading Recovery is sometimes referred to as a “cult” in the comments on social media pages as a form of deflection, not productive discourse. Commenters act as though likening it to a cult is all that’s needed to be said to “win” the argument.

A cult is defined as, “a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister.” In this context, it has a pejorative intention and helps win in the court of opinion with sound bites, as though Reading Recovery is an ominous group. “My bible” becomes evidence of indoctrination. You are suspect before you have a chance to speak, any reference to the work of Marie Clay, Fountas and Pinnell, or others is evidence of your “grooming.”

This divisive language delegitimizes the years of experience, study, observation, undergrad, master, and doctoral level course work, practicum observation, coaching, and continuing professional development Reading Recovery advocates have accomplished. For many of us, this language also discounts our training in the programs “they never taught us in college,” suggesting if we knew better, we would change our minds. This diminishes our education and commitment to research and professional development. The podcast uses sinister, calamity-evoking music. Beware, those that study Clay are nothing more than indoctrinated! Yikes.

 

The Truth

Why employ attack as a strategy instead of philosophical discourse, I wonder? It’s easier to attack than engage.

Wiser mentors have offered me counsel. Some have said, “Ignore the bully, spend time with the people who want to get to work.” Others have said, “Pay attention to the occupation of who you read as much as you pay attention to what you are reading. Are the people writing the pieces doing the work? Do they have an agenda about all students, some students, or just the adults?”

Yet, Clay’s advice said to listen, add (even with critics), and if you disagree never mind — but consider. Does this teacher who made the “bible” comment still listen to critics? Does the podcaster? And why does their rhetoric gain traction with non-educators? Theatrics.

Reading Recovery is a community, a network of support. We don’t follow a script. We pay attention to the social and emotional aspects of learning for students and teachers. Unlike a cult, I am encouraged to seek answers from the entire educational community, to open my circle, and to consider and add. Instead, the community encourages critical thinking and creates an educational fellowship that allows for the ideas of many theories and theorists to contribute to an international dialogue. Challenge is accepted and encouraged, so long as it is accompanied by evidence and rationale. I have challenged trainers and colleagues. I have always been given space to provide my evidence, and often because I have been challenged to consider something of which I was not yet aware, changed my mind. When I do not agree, I am not expelled or shunned, but treated as a respected professional and invited to continue learning.

I “believe” in literacy processing in the same way I “believe” in gravity. I have yet to encounter any other program as robust, tentative, and flexible enough to reach all individual children to change my mind. Precisely because Clay said: “add.”  “Add” gives me room to decide what will have the greatest impact on each student.

Other programs do not allow me to challenge myself, consider alternatives, or study the child to find the best fit solution. Programs out of a box do not offer the flexibility to change with the student. Any program that touts “this is the only way, in this sequence, for this long” will not work for all students. A lock-step system might be easier to explain on a podcast, but is it best for individual struggling students?

Reading Recovery does not require loyalty to one leader. Rather, Clay enlisted the help of university professors, colleagues, and trainers and tasked them to continue to lift the knowledge of experienced teachers as a source of ongoing study. She placed her work as a starting point to be considered and used to catapult the learning of students, teachers, teacher leaders, trainers, and the educational community. She encouraged change over time, discussion, and challenge. Her theory relies on it.

So why did the teacher call the Literacy Lesson Designed for Individuals “my bible”? I can only assume. Teachers in my training classes have jokingly called my book their bible. I never considered they were serious, until now. Maybe it’s because:

• I always have it with me at work.
• I can quote from it.
• I know regularly referenced page numbers off the top of my head or roughly what section in which to find pages.
• I reference it often when I am trying to help teachers get back to a larger idea.
• When challenged, I revisit, and I often find an answer.

My grandfather kept birth certificates and historical references in his bible as a faith and family cross-reference. My Literacy Lessons book is similar because I have cross-referenced other resources, papers, articles, books, and ideas. In the margins, I have noted student examples of theoretical concepts, alternate ways to communicate an idea, quotes from presentations, and the work of many theorists, and new research. I would feel a little lost if I misplaced my record of thinking. Yet, I do not consider it my bible because nothing inside of it is faith-based. It offers no prayers, silver bullets, or magical thinking. Instead, it is a well-used resource, a personal collection of research and knowledge built over time with the help of a community of mentors and colleagues. Make no mistake — it is special to me, but it is not my bible.

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Marissa Cota began her work in Elementary Education in Oak Ridge, Tennessee teaching small group guided reading as an interventionist, in first, fifth, and Kindergarten. She later moved to Nashville. While in Nashville Marissa served as a Reading Recovery Teacher Leader for three years. She currently resides in Clearwater, Florida, where she serves as a Reading Recovery Teacher Leader for Pinellas County Schools.

 

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