Scholarly Research Analysis Protocol

Torres, Myriam N. (2017). Prospective Teachers Learning to Engage Reluctant Writers: the power of experiential critical literacy pedagogies, The Journal of Teacher Action Research, 101-113.

What makes this an academic article?

• Article starts with an abstract: This is a structural feature that defines academic writing, especially writing featured in peer-reviewed journals. Popular culture articles contain no such wordstuffs.
• The overall content of the article, geared towards those who are interested in esoteric concepts such as critical literacy pedagogies. Popular culture cares naught for literacy.
• Reputable sources, cited regularly throughout. Imagine reading an article in a popular culture publication that bothers to explain where the information comes from.
• A complete lack of glossy photographs, illustrations, embedded video clips, or clever memes. Pop culture publications typically spruce up their content with visuals to draw in fickle readers. Dr. Torres’ intended audience need not be teased into reading her work.
• Words. Big words. The overall diction of the article is clearly not intended for the general public. Dr. Torres writes in an elevated style, heavy on teaching jargon, that would turn away any reader who gets their news from Buzzfeed.

Identify the specialized vocabulary:

• pedagogy - the overall philosophy and methodology of teaching
• educational-industrial complex - “The System” of all the tests, policies, financial regulations, and hoops to jump through that has been established and maintained by bureaucrats who are typically not educators themselves
• critical literacy - the ability to read a text closely, unpacking the various implications and deeper meanings within the text
• NCLB,ESSA, RTTT - education policies, subject to change at any moment, that teachers are expected to obey
• top-down standards - Reaganomics applied to education
• living language workshop - organic writing instruction that draws in student writers by tasking them to write about what matters to them

Argument Statement:

“We need to implement critical literacy pedagogies that: a) integrate social justice issues as the substance of reading, writing, and speaking - the basic components of the language arts curriculum; b) place students’ lives at the center of the curriculum; c) use the newly acquired knowledge about policies and skills (e.g. writing letters) for social justice activism; and d) build socially responsive curricula from the bottom up.” (Torres, 2017, p. 104)

Statements of Support:

1. “At last, critical educators have been able to ‘connect the dots’ to reveal who is behind the disastrous educational policies and the growth of the educational-industrial complex (standardized tests, textbooks, teaching materials, commercialization of schools, tutoring, teacher training, online courses, alternative certification programs, school closings, forprofit charter schools, and so on).” (Torres, 2017, p. 101)
2. “[T]he ‘popularity effect’ of critical literacy has led many good teachers to claim they are “doing” critical literacy, even though they are not examining systems of oppression with their students [...], and taking action upon those issues at school or local levels.” (Torres, 2017, p. 102)
3. “[Writing] is mainly assigned but not taught; and when it does occur, writing is almost always solely for writing’s sake. Consequently, writing becomes an unpleasant experience[.]” (Torres, 2017, p. 103)
4. “Poor, and mostly minority, students are ‘tracked’ at lower levels, which harms them not only academically but psychologically; and it is a commonplace that the poor and minority schooling experience is that of unchallenging curricula, prescriptive programs, less experienced and qualified teachers, more irrational practices, and more pressure to raise scores in standardized testing.” (Torres, 2017, p. 104)
5. “A common practice in teaching writing at schools is to emphasize grammatical correctness at the expense of purpose, meaning, and creativity.” (Torres, 2017, p. 104)
6. “[Students should be asking]: Is this fair? Is this right? Does this hurt anyone? Who benefits and who suffers? Whose voices are suppressed?” (Torres, 2017, p. 105)

Value Statements:

1. Writing (and all aspects of education) should be an experiential activity. Students should be able to connect their educational experiences to their personal experience. If content matters to them, they will be more likely to have substantial learning experiences.
2. The educational-industrial complex is failing our students. The way the system is designed is flawed in that it only perpetuates historical inequalities.
3. Teachers, especially pre-service teachers, are susceptible to maintaining the status quo by teaching the way they were taught. We’ve all had influential teachers who inspired us to get into teaching. We’ve all also had less skilled and less passionate teachers shape our educational experience. Unfortunately, some of their bad habits (pedagogies not aligned with best practice) rub off on the next generation of teachers. Through reflective practice, we can exorcise those demons.   

Memo 1 ~ Making the Familiar Strange: A Day in the Life of a Student in The Program

This morning, when a staff member shouted, “Ladies, it’s 7:15! Time to get up!” I found myself thinking, Please, just five more minutes! I didn’t get much sleep the night before because my roommate, per usual, was up with her night terrors. It’s the same thing every night, and it’s so tiresome that I find myself regularly considering walking right out the front door and down the street to the respite care center. At least there I would be able to get some peace and quiet. But I didn’t walk out. I did my best to block out my roommate’s sobs with my pillow and log a few hours of “sleep.”

When I finally get into class, groggy and gloomy, Mr. Miller is there in an irritatingly positive mood, trying to coax us into one of his writing prompts. He wants us to write about a place or an activity that makes us comfortable or relaxed using as many descriptive details as possible. Are you kidding me? After last night, I no longer know the meaning of comfortable or relaxed! I try listening to his examples, watch him help another student flesh out her ideas, but I’ve got nothing this morning.

I look around the tiny classroom, hoping some kind of inspiration or motivation comes my way. I scan the Growth Mindset poster that we made as a class and roll my eyes at its messages of encouragement (though I’m secretly proud of my “Is this my best work?” design). I glance over the titles of the books in Mr. Miller’s library. I think for a moment how relaxing and comforting reading used to be, but now that they force us to read during Quiet Hour I’ve sort of lost that enjoyment. I look at the empty desks that were briefly occupied by girls who’d transitioned out of the more restrictive classrooms but couldn’t handle the “freedom” of the outer buildings. It’s like going from a maximum security prison to a halfway house, so no comfort or relaxation there.

I try thinking back to when I lived at home. Nothing comfortable or relaxing about that either (which is pretty much why I’m stuck in this program to begin with). I think about the other programs I’ve been in and some of the foster homes I’ve been bounced around. Nope.

Now Mr. Miller’s standing behind his desk, looking expectantly at me with that “get writing” look. I consider flipping him off so I can get kicked out of class, go to the redirection chair, and take a well-deserved nap. I think back on how many times I’ve been redirected this week and know that I’m already at risk of losing my community privileges. Ugh. I give him a load of B.S. about going on nature walks and fresh mountain air, and that seems to do the trick. Finally we can move on to ELA, which I actually enjoy most days.

We trudge through some grammar and vocab stuff and I come up with a hilarious sentence using “gregarious.” Now he’s got us reading through these news articles and analyzing them for author bias and the credibility of their sources. Fascinating. This guy really seems to love making us read and write. If I had a dollar for every graphic organizer I’ve filled up… Mornings like this make me wish I could go back to some of the old programs I’ve been in where we sat around coloring all day. Still, the time at least goes by more quickly here.

Speaking of, it’s almost 11 and time for Math. God, do I hate math. Seems like Miller hates math too because I don’t think he does that great of a job teaching it. Every time we do something new he’s like, “Open your books, take these notes, watch me do this problem, now you do it, now do like 40 million more problems and I’ll be by to help you if you need it.” I know this sounds cliché, but I always think, When the hell am I going to use this? Still, he sometimes gives us these real world math problems (which I kind of like, but don’t tell him that). Anyways, I make like a million mistakes on my equations and have to re-do a bunch of them for homework, but it’s time for lunch.

Lunch brings the usual amount of drama and gossip served over portion-controlled sandwiches and salads. We are supervised pretty closely at lunch, and it’s not like we can talk about anything serious, but it’s my only chance for real human interaction each day. Today, though, my roommate is going on-and-on about her boyfriend (who I know doesn’t exist) and her voice is cutting right through me. I don’t mean to, but a “Pssh!” escapes my lips. The Staff Supervisor tells me I’m being rude and I’m told to go take a seat in redirection. I feel a surge of enragement, but I know I can’t afford another violent outburst, so I try to concentrate on my soothing techniques. While taking my slow and measured breaths, I push my plate away, walk out into the hall, and plop into a redirection chair.

Eventually I make it to U.S. History, but I’m still so steamed about potentially losing community privileges because of what happened at lunch that it’s hard to focus on what Mr. Miller is saying. We’ve got our textbooks and notebooks open and Miller is blathering on about Jeffersonian Democracy or whatever, but suddenly he stops. I’m pulled away from vengeful thoughts involving my roommate when I notice the awkward silence in the classroom and the teacher staring impatiently at me. Crap! Is it already my turn to read again? “Uhh, I lost my place,” I stammer, thinking I’m about to be redirected again. Mr. Miller looks conflicted, like he knows the rules of The Program say that he should redirect me for not paying attention, but for some reason, he doesn’t.

“We’re on ‘Burr vs. Hamilton,’ if you will, please,” he says, and I can’t really tell if he’s annoyed with me. I read aloud through the section, paying more attention to forming the sounds of the words than actually thinking about what they say. We trudge through the rest of the section, I copy down the notes, and write a bit from the perspective of a voter in the election of 1800. Mr. Miller asks us to share what we wrote, and as usual, I’m the only volunteer. I read my paragraph and he says something about how good my narrative voice is. What the hell is a narrative voice? Before I think to ask the question out loud it’s time to start transitioning to Biology. Last subject, thank GOD!

It’s almost the end of the day, and I’m already starting to think about all the things I’ve got to do after school today. I know I have a meeting with my clinician at three, and I’m pretty sure I have a phone call with my DCF worker to set up another court date. I start thinking about my last time in court, how pissed the judge was that I’d broken my probation and how he gave me the whole “Three Strikes” lecture. My pen moves automatically at this point, copying down the notes on nonvertebrate chordates, and I pretend to pay attention. Pretending is all I can do at this point, because now thinking about court has me spiraling towards an internal meltdown. I start thinking about losing my privileges and getting a talking-to from my clinician. Start thinking about having to see whatever’s left of my family if they actually show up to my court hearing this time. Thinking about my DCF worker whose name I can’t even remember, this new one who pretends to give a crap about me. Thinking about how exhausted and drained I am. About never getting sleep at night. About bashing my roommate’s face in. Thinking about just standing up and walking out that door again. Then I hear my name followed by, “How can an organism be classified as both an invertebrate and a chordate?”

“Because, uhh, it has a notochord but not a backbone?” I say, without thinking. How the hell did I know that?

“Exactly!” Mr. Miller says with way too much excitement for 2:30 in the afternoon. “You are rockin’ it today!”

Yeah. Sure.