The True Story:
This
past week my family vacationed in the Charleston, South Carolina
area. During the nature boat tour at Magnolia Plantation, the seven
children aboard probed and questioned the guide relentlessly about
the alligators. Apparently the gator population in the fields is
near the upper 300s. That's a lot of lizards for roughly 100 acres!
Yet he warned, it's hot. Gators are cold-blooded therefore, they
leave most of their body underwater. We may not see much of one, if
any, during our tour.
During
this lengthy and well-focused explanation, the adults near my side of
the boat spotted three gators lurking together, quietly unseen,
nestled among the reeds. Their eyes watched us while their spines
rippled near the surface of the water. We pointed and whispered to
one another so as not to seem rude, but the gators were there,
waiting...
...like
the children.
Birds,
ducks and a turtle scuttled by as the tour slowly passed through the
marsh area. These distraction kept the tourists on their toes,
shifting from a view on one side, to the view on the other.
Our
trusty guide, "Captain May" (Accept Tips) graciously shared
his knowledge of the former rice plantation and the difficulties
faced by choosing to plant rice near a salt water inlet.
Occasionally,
a curious child would interrupt. "When will we see an
alligator?" Their bright eyes shined, and their plea was urgent
but polite.
The captain would respond, "I haven't had a tour that hasn't seen at
least one." And he continued to tell his stories.
Meanwhile,
the children darted from front to back, searching. Ever searching.
The
first official spotting was claimed by a high pitched scream from one
of the older boys, "There's one!"
The
captain conferred and shifted to a full stop. He warned the children
that he would need to back the boat cautiously so the gator wouldn't
startle. The captain succeeded.
The 6-foot gator left his head and a
portion of his body out long enough for the adults to snap pictures
and the children to debate whether or not they should be worried
about being so close to the edge.
Now
the search was on in earnest! Our wonderful "Captain May"
continued to fill the adult attentive minds with facts from the plantation's
history while the children questioned the existence of gators at
every turn.
We
spotted around 12 alligators overall (counting the first three).
Pretty good for a day when they "may not be seen."
But
the big reward came at the very end of the journey. The dock was
nearly in sight.
A
horrid sound interrupted the captain's final chapter of the
plantation's rice-field story. There was obviously a struggle, but
from where?
Even
the captain showed genuine curiosity. He slowed the motor and inched
the boat closer to the reeds.
It
was an alligator! A huge American gator! With his body, fully
visible, his head tilted upward, he swallowed and gulped on one of
the precious snake-birds we had spotted earlier. The gator was
massive! He was at least 10 feet in length. As we veered closer, he
stopped mid-chomp and slid slowly into the water.
The
children were silent. They watched and waited.
The
gator didn't retreat completely, and he didn't continue his meal either. He remained,
momentarily stunned.
The
good captain let the boat sit until it became obvious that the gator
wasn't going to give in and put on a show for us.
As
the engine started up again, and we pulled away, the children
returned to their seats without being told. Their curiosity had been
satisfied. The trip was a success.
How
Does This Relate to Teaching?
I
tell this story because it reminds me of the struggles students (and
adults) face when reading and writing.
Experience
in "noticing" led me to spot the first three alligators,
but until their focus was established and masterfully honed by our
captain, the children and some of the other adults weren't ready.
This
demonstrates why it's so important not to simply think that handing a
child a book will solve a struggling reader's problems. Like the
captain baiting the visitors on the voyage, it's our job as teachers
and parents to guide them through the process. We have to start with
small glimpses, pique their interests and model our personal methods
of finding meaning.
I'm
not sure how much of "Captain May's" gator stories were
rehearsed lines, but I suspect, as a guide of boat-loads of
"students," he recognized the pattern important to a
successful boat ride a long time ago. "Captain May" had
given us the tools to find the gators, practiced with us, demonstrated what to look for, and
then, after many false sightings and close calls, we were rewarded with a successful alligator view. This is how
we should be teaching.
Later,
as my family continued through the plantation's gardens and marshes,
we kept an eye out for alligators. We knew what to do, we knew how
to find them, and we had been rewarded with a success. We often ran
into a family with three of those children from the boat tour. They
were also looking for hidden alligators.
As teachers we want the hunt to continue; the strive for learning to persist. We have to make our students' tasks relevant, engaging and rewarding. Once we get that right, our students will be seeing alligators everywhere!
Isn't it a marvelous feeling when the stars align and a lesson goes off perfectly? (Did you catch the adverb I slipped in that sentence?) 
But I wanted to start out with a bit of "word-play" to get my students motivated. In my language arts classrooms, my students and I play with words frequently. When I want the students to use a part of speech, it's important that they have examples of how it can be used effectively. They must understand how each part of speech and each word they choose can lead the reader along different paths. 
Had the word been stupidly, clumsily, articulately, the sentence would take on an entire new meaning. 
This year, after reviewing the general rules of adverb use and jotting this details and examples down in their notes, I read from the mentor text, Animalia by Graeme Base. 
Students had to create a silly sentence
