It made sense to band together to buy ebooks as a single region rather than purchasing as 22 small districts. Buying as a group helped, but our rural schools still didn’t have new money to spend on ebooks. For this project, a blended-funding solution meant starting with librarians, allocating a portion of their existing state library materials aid to the regional purchases while seeking additional resources from classroom or textbook funding.

The goal was twofold: pool money from individual libraries to leverage group purchasing, and increase the efficient use of existing funding. New York State provides $6.25 in state aid per student to each district for library materials. Asking librarians to give up even 10 percent or 20 percent of their limited book budgets was met with entirely reasonable resistance. For this plan to work, participating librarians had to retain control of their money throughout the selection process.

Working together with our librarians, we found inspiration in crowd-sourced funding sites like Kickstarter.com. On Kickstarter, people post projects to raise money from individual donors. For example, the Harvey Pekar Estate crowd-funded the creation of a memorial statue of the comic book author for the Cleveland Heights public library. Kickstarter’s site tracks pledges until the fundraising goal is reached. Then, people who pledged are charged and the project receives the money. We thought we could use a similar crowd-funding method to let librarians select books in a consortium.

The process we settled on is based on the regional price break point, when the number of individual libraries buying the ebook for their building meets the cost of buying the book for the whole region. For example, an ebook might cost one library $20 and the region $200. If 10 libraries plan on buying that book, we might as well pool the money and buy it for the region. Our selection tool is built around pledges; librarians indicate that they would allocate their money to buy the book individually. When the number of pledges reaches the set break point, the book is purchased for the region by pulling in the pledges, which will fund it.

This couldn’t have worked without three keys. First, our member librarians helped us find a delicate balance between a library giving up some limited funding and retaining control. We also credit the publishers that were willing to consider a new business model and provide regional pricing: ABC-CLIO, Britannica, Chelsea House, Lerner, and Rosen. The final key was Mackin, which worked with publishers on pricing to make this regional buying possible. Mackin’s VIA platform for digital content will give the kids in our region easy access to the collection on computers, iPads, and Android tablets.

Working through an aggregator was a deliberate choice. I might have been able to get lower prices directly from publishers and my amazing team could probably have developed a reading platform, but I wanted this project to be replicable and sustainable. I believe that this model can work for districts and consortia around the country.

Christopher Harris (infomancy@gmail.com) is coordinator of the school library system of the Genesee Valley (NY) Educational Partnership.

Photo by Hemera

Being out in the field, talking to teachers and librarians about the Common Core (CC), I’ve learned as much as I’ve taught. My world is often centered in my study (where I research and write), or in the graduate classes that I teach, or in the K–12 classrooms that I visit. In those spaces, I’ve learned, secondhand, about students being told they can only read an “L” or an “R” book—and how parents have demanded that libraries rearrange their collections from A to Z, according to carefully determined reading levels, so their kids can read totally non-frustrating texts. But it took being at a workshop out on Long Island, NY, for me to really understand the fundamental clash between guided reading and Common Core—something that many of you doubtless experience daily.

At the workshop, librarians spoke of their schools being, in effect, taken over by guided reading crews with their alphabet soup of labels and rigid instructions. That type of approach made absolutely no sense to me, so I did my homework. I learned that guided reading began as a good idea: breaking classrooms into groups by reading levels didn’t work since poor readers didn’t improve when they were clumped together, so teachers needed a new way to match individual readers, reading levels, and texts. So far, so good. Indeed, as one reading expert told me, providing a space, say 20 to 30 minutes daily, where, as part of the reading diet, a learner experiences clear sailing seems at worst harmless and at best a step toward success.

But this relatively benign approach has turned into an expensive program complete with minatory reading coaches who run around mandating to librarians what kids should be allowed to read. The second problem is that the steroidal guided reading monster is directly at odds with the Common Core.

As literacy expert Timothy Shanahan pointed out in “The Common Core Ate My Baby and Other Urban Legends,” a recent article in Educational Leadership, limiting students to below-frustration texts doesn’t necessarily help them (see, especially, “Legend 4: Teachers Must Teach Students at Frustration Levels”) nor does CC require all kids to tackle weighty tomes far beyond their previous reading ranges. In the early grades, where students are working to become fluent readers, CC doesn’t demand that they read more complex texts. And it’s precisely in that preK-to-2 band that learners may need some reading time where they don’t have to struggle. And that brings us to content.

The key clash between guided reading and CC is that those A-to-Z labels have nothing to do with content—they are about the ease of decoding. Starting in earnest in second grade, CC stresses that knowledge is a key part of literacy. This cuts two ways. Every elementary school librarian knows that a student who’s passionate about a subject isn’t daunted by the text’s difficulty—the multi-syllabic names of dinosaurs being a prime example. Curiosity drives readers on from one record, one wacky fact, one sports stat, one set of rules on how to care for pets, to another—and the text’s length or structure isn’t a formidable barrier. In turn, the Common Core standards emphasize that in order to read a student must identify details that add up to evidence and tap into modes of thinking that add up to argument and point of view. You can’t build those muscles without what librarians used to call “stretch,” or challenging, books.

Whether young people are on a sports team or practice an instrument, whether they play Minecraft or chess, they realize that to be good at something you have to work at it; you have to test your limits. Reading works the same way: you build muscles through confronting and overcoming a challenge, and you’re drawn to that challenge because you have a specific goal. We in library land know of many reading goals that appeal to students—books they want to tackle because they find them engaging, interesting, and exciting. Common Core adds the goal of preparing students for a successful life after school. That is the sort of guided reading that makes sense to me.

I was listening to NPR, and I heard a review of Carolina Clay [The Life and Legend of Slave Potter Dave] by Leonard Todd. I thought, this is just an incredible story. It’s hard for me to know why it affected me so much, but my daughter’s a potter, and I’ve worked with clay all my life. He was a writer and I’m a writer, but I’m not heroic like Dave.

What made him heroic?

He dared to write on pots at a time when he could have been killed for that, and he signed his name. That’s just an amazingly courageous act—and subversive. But it’s also quiet, because he wasn’t saying anything—he was writing it. His ability and his talent gave him that kind of confidence and power, because he knew that if he was killed, who was going to make the 40-gallon jars?

You grew up in Cincinnati during the height of the Civil Rights Movement. Did that help draw you to Dave’s story?

Oh, absolutely. I grew up in a neighborhood where I still live, close to downtown Cincinnati, which was predominantly African American at the time. All my friends were African American. We all remember the race riots, which happened about a block away from where we lived. I remember hearing things breaking and being with my African-American friends, and their parents being super-nervous and coming out all the time and telling us to stay on the grass and not to leave the yard.

Not much is known about Dave. How’d you find so many details about him?

It’s funny, I was talking to a friend of mine who writes biographies, and she doesn’t put anything in them that isn’t a fact. My biography really crosses that line and some people may not consider it a biography, which is fine with me.

The Library of Congress calls it a biography.

I couldn’t write the story of Dave without putting in things that I didn’t know he said or anyone else said, because there isn’t any record of that. There isn’t really another way to write the story, because all you have are bills of sale [of slaves] and these cryptic couplets [that he etched] on pots.

Your book feels so incredibly personal.

It’s interesting that you said that. When I worked on this book, I spent a lot of time feeling choked up and I couldn’t talk, or if the phone rang, I choked up.

What touched you the most?

It was the separation, the scenes where people are separated from people they love.

So many children and spouses—including Dave’s—were sold at the drop of a hat, and they never saw one another again.

That’s what really choked me up more than any sort of physical violence.

Do today’s kids understand how dehumanizing slavery is?

In a lot of ways, we’re failing our kids. Just recently, I went to a school to talk to a group of fourth graders, and one asked what I was working on.

I told her a little bit about Dave, and I showed her a slide of the woodcut of him on the auction block that’s in the book, and she said, “You mean he was being sold?” They’d done a whole unit on slavery, but she didn’t know that. And I said, “Yeah, slaves were bought and sold,” and she was stunned. Then she looked at me, and said, “Well, I hope the people that bought him were nice.”

What do you hope kids take away from the book?

I just want kids to realize there are a lot of ways to do what you believe is the right thing to do, and it doesn’t have to be screaming and yelling and fighting, or in any way violent.

There’s a woman who saved my mother during the Holocaust. She was a very quiet person and nobody’s ever heard of her. If I had to pick somebody, she’s the hero of my life. But she did what she did because she thought it was the most ordinary thing to do.

It’s very ordinary to want to write and read and express yourself. But because of the times, Dave couldn’t do that. So he became a quiet hero. If more kids knew about things like that, maybe they’d feel stronger themselves—and they could also do the right thing.

To read a starred review of Etched in Clay (Lee & Low), turn to page 117.

CC-licensed image by Flickr user schoeband

My 12-year-old son has spent this week getting ready for midterms. He’s working hard even though he knows, far better than I do, exactly what their weighted contributions to his final grades will be. He can name the percentage allotted to every single quiz, test, assignment, and extra-credit opportunity in all of his classes. And he claims that all he cares about is doing well enough to make the honor roll—no more, no less.

My eight-year-old, though, is taking piano lessons, and his teacher gave him the simple theme from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony to practice, which gave me a reason to sit, transfixed, in front of an iPod and listen to the entire score. What I heard gave me the one good answer I can offer my sons for why grades really are not the point of education.

Give yourself a treat; go listen to the Ninth. You can’t help hearing how Beethoven plays with you—the music driving ahead with a martial air, you can almost sense the fife and drum of the people marching; now expectant as dusk; now soaring, reaching to and beyond the breaking point up toward sky, toward transcendence, toward Schiller’s “Ode to Joy” sung in the final movement:

Can you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy.
Above the stars He must dwell.

Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.

Can you sense the Creator, world?
Seek him above the starry canopy.
Above the stars He must dwell.

Joy, daughter of Elysium
Thy magic reunites those
Whom stern custom has parted;
All men will become brothers
Under thy gentle wing.

You usually hear the chorus sung in German, but I have recording of just the chorus in which Paul Robeson sings in English (slightly shifted to the political left, so it’s not about a Creator but rather the people united, “All for one and one for all”). When the chorus swells, it’s Robeson’s earth-rattling voice that I hear in my mind.

Beethoven masterfully braids together themes and melodies, so that you’re taken on an ever-winding journey upward. Robeson’s voice tells me the same story: everything is about creation. We put our children through their paces in school not so that they will learn something, or master something, or meet any standards. No. We give them tools so that they can experience the joy, the passion, of creating. All we are doing is saying, “Here, if you know this, there is more you can make; there is another path you can map; there is another song you can compose.” School—from pre-K to postdoc programs—exists so that we can all build more from within ourselves and with our colleagues.

Young people need training, so that they can become builders. In my Beethoven-induced reverie, I was thrilled to see this headline in the San Gabriel Valley Tribune: “Walnut High students build worlds in new academic program”. The article is about a school in California where 75 tenth graders have volunteered to work with three teachers, three periods each morning, to create a society from the ground up. As social studies teacher Justin Panlilio told a Tribune reporter, “Right now, the students are designing a world we call Atlantis. They have to build the government, cultural and economic structures that bind a society together.” Creation—that’s where school leads, not rote and grade percentiles.

My 12-year-old doesn’t have the patience to sit through an entire symphony. The soundtrack of his life is more immediate. But even as he put down one set of study guides and picked up another, he saw me beaming as I listened to the music. Perhaps there was a halftone of pity in his expression: poor old dad just didn’t understand what school life is really like. But I also caught a second of wonder. “Maybe, yes, maybe,” his eyes seemed to say, “there is a wild ocean ahead for me, not just these endless streams to cross.”

Drawing from Mei Li.

Of course, this year is even more special. As the Caldecott Medal turns 75, the party is even bigger, and it will keep going until the awards celebration at ALA annual in Chicago in late June. It’s wonderful, and, because of the enduring value of the Caldecott award, it’s not just recreational. This award matters, bringing a broad readership to the winning books and keeping them in print for years to come. It’s also not just recreational because evaluations like these are at the heart of what librarians do every day as they choose materials for their collections.

Of course, this award is not without controversy—what award is? Among the issues is that the Caldecott is decided by committee, leading some to think the best books get left aside in the search for the ones everyone will agree on, and some of the choices don’t hold up over time. But the highly controlled judging process itself is key, and the Association for Library Service to Children (ALSC) continues to protect the integrity of the librarian judges and the privacy of the proceedings. (For the rules, see the Caldecott Medal Manual.) Getting to a decision requires artful mastery.

There will always be books that didn’t win the Caldecott that many argue should have. That is part of the fun. SLJ contributing editor Rocco Staino is collecting librarians’ picks of what’s gotten missed over the years in a series of video interviews we’ll post on SLJ.com in the months to come. There are also deeper reflections on the early award winners in a series of articles from
The Horn Book, rich discussion coming from bloggers, and much more in the pipeline.

I look forward to more conversation on where picture books fit into the lives of our kids. SLJ’s Trevelyn Jones, for one, hopes they’ll be better used to help kids appreciate and talk about art, even long past what’s considered to be the standard picture-book audience ages and on into the seventh and eighth grades. As a parent, I keep tapping the Caldecott winners and honor books as I read to my children, reaching for works that will enrich their language and their sense of what the world looks like and those that will spark their imaginations or transport them. I am delighted, for instance, by the pull of 1988 winner Owl Moon (illustrated by John Schoenherr, text by Jane Yolen) in the heat of the summer.

I had a special encounter with one Caldecott winner, Thomas Handforth’s Mei Li, when I visited Lisa Von Drasek, formerly at Bank Street, now the curator of the University of Minnesota’s Children’s Literature Research Collections in Minneapolis. Von Drasek showed me just a few of the choice pieces of art in the collection, including draft drawings of Caldecott-free Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown, and one from Mei Li (pictured). Mei Li, the winner of the second Caldecott Medal in 1939, was in the process of being digitized so it can be accessed more often for research.

It’s delightful that librarians made Mei Li a winner and now a librarian is preserving the art for the future. That’s the kind of difference librarians can make.

Rebecca T. Miller
Editor-in-Chief
rmiller@mediasourceinc.com

The continuing conversation about whether Dewey’s days are numbered (“Are Dewey’s Days Numbered,” Oct. 2012, pp. 24–28; “Summer Project: Kill Dewey,” Aug. 2012, p. 14) has been useful as I consider how to make my library’s collection more accessible. While I believe that Dewey still has its place, I’ve thought about fresh ways to meet the needs of my middle and high school students. As a result of the debate, I’ve added a lot more subject heading labels to my shelves, especially highlighting topics of high interest, and I’ve adjusted Dewey in the 800s section.

I abridged Dewey to 19 numbers in relation to literature, essentially eliminating the geographic/cultural separation of authors and literary eras, making this subject area an easy one for browsing. Instead of 810s for American authors, 820s for British authors, etc., all poetry by one author is under 821, and all collections of poetry are filed under 821.08, regardless of nationality or time period.

In addition, all literary criticism, without regard to the type of literature, is now shelved under 829 in the manner we file biographies, with the letters of the writer first, then the letters of the criticism’s author. A work of criticism on Elie Wiesel is now assigned the number 829 WIE BLO, with WIE placing all criticism on Wiesel together. BLO represents the critic’s last name. This book formerly was labeled 848.914 BLO. These changes make it easy for students to browse literary works by their author without knowing nationality or date, and to find literary criticism about Maya Angelou without deciding whether she is a poet or an essayist. Her poems are found with poetry, essays with essays, but all criticism about one author is shelved together.

I used the 820s because Shakespeare is too important to adjust. Shakespeare’s plays continue to be shelved under 822.33 SHA TEM (for The Tempest), and literary criticism for Shakespeare is shelved under 829 SHA and then the critic’s name.

A brief letter can’t describe the plan. We have 375 books in the 800 section, and it took seconds to reassign most books. Adjusting the online catalog records was also quick, but relabeling took longer.

Bill Fabian
Information Literacy Teacher/Librarian
McGinnis Middle School/
Buena Vista High School
Buena Vista, CO

Save Dewey redux

Sigh. I’m sure Scarlett Middle School’s library isn’t the only school library in Michigan in which the Dewey decimal system is used and taught. I wish Ms. LaPrise’s blanket statement (Letters, Dec. 2012, p. 10), “In Michigan, the students are frustrated because Dewey is not taught in their schools,” had been edited, as it is false.

Anne Colvin
Media Specialist
Scarlett Middle School
Ann Arbor, MI

content over coverage

How can teachers and librarians work together to model for students how we talk about texts, how we explore topics of study, and what initiates our inquiry into a topic of interest? Educators have long understood that speaking and listening are essential components of literacy.  But all too often, talking is left out of the curriculum, because talking takes time. With the recent emphasis on testing, we have witnessed too many quiet classrooms, with students silently reading, independent of one another.

To fully access what they are reading, students need time to process it, and that processing is often most effective when done out loud. We need to give students time to dig in and explore, to talk with one another and with adults about what they are reading, to grapple with multiple perspectives, to pose questions, and to examine the writer’s craft.

Fortunately, the Common Core State Standards require that teachers at all grade levels focus on the role of speaking and listening within the language arts and the content areas. Teams of teachers working with librarians can therefore look at their grade span standards and use the Speaking and Listening standards as a tool for meeting the Reading and Writing standards. Each informs the other. Students who talk about what they have read, who use conversation, modeled by their teachers, as a tool to access their reading, are better prepared to do the critical thinking around texts that the CCSS asks of them.

Promote Formal and Informal Conversations

What are some of the ways that school librarians can support student efforts to talk about the nonfiction texts they read? The first step is the recognition that nonfiction texts are not simply fill-in-the-blank resources useful for writing reports or studying for tests. Indeed, the best nonfiction reflects the questing and questioning that the author engaged in while crafting it. Nonfiction is not answers, it is exploration–which readers or listeners are invited to join, whether through swiftly moving, page-turning narrative, or the swell of insights, or vistas of new possibility that it opens. The more go-to favorite nonfiction books that engage, stimulate, and challenge in these ways that you have, the better.

Start your preparation by looking closely at your nonfiction and making subcategories for yourself–this one is an I-couldn’t-put-it-down thriller, that one made me see the world a new way, this one invites readers to join the quest by giving them an expert to identify with, this title is filled with the unforgettable facts my kids will want to share with one another. Then plan a nonfiction story time like a meal: an appetizer of the weird and wacky, a first course of adventure, a hearty main meal of intellectual quest, and a fine dessert of websites and games students can explore on their own. That splendid feast should whet students’ appetites for nonfiction and get them started on the kinds of thinking the Common Core requires of them.

In elementary and middle school, where library is often an integrated arts class, librarian and teacher teams can coordinate the exploration of nonfiction and informational text so that it is aligned with topics, themes, or the types of writing that students are studying in their core class(es). Having a school-wide strategy for implementing the Speaking and Listening standards is as important as having a school-wide strategy for the Reading and Writing standards that often get more attention. Grade level teams can decide which Speaking and Listening standards will be introduced in core classes, and which in the library.  At the high school level, where the library is often a place used by classes for particular academic purposes, librarians can plan with the content area departments on how best to support students in speaking and listening about nonfiction texts.

The following are some general strategies to bring more speaking and listening activities into the school library to support students as they read increasing numbers of nonfiction texts.

Nonfiction Conversation Podcasts

We often ask students to write original book reviews. But what about recording a conversation about a book as a form of book review? Pairs, trios, or even groups of students who have read the same nonfiction book can be recorded, in audio or video, discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the book. Students would first have to prepare their own reactions to the text, and then compare and contrast with one another to establish an outline for their recorded discussion.

Younger students will need more support than older students in this activity, and could create shorter podcasts. Upload the recording to a “Book Conversation” section of your school library webpage, and it is ready to be accessed by other students in the school. Such podcasts are also a way to bring community members into the school. Adults from your community can read the same book as a group of students, and their conversation can be recorded and uploaded.

Service Learning Projects

Coordinate with faculty who conduct service learning projects within the classroom, or in a volunteer or service club that meets before or after school, or at lunch. Students can start by reading nonfiction books and articles to learn more about the issues that they are working on. For example, if students are trying to fight hunger in your community, they can read a title or two on hunger and nutrition. Next, they can look at digital newspaper and magazine articles. Subscription databases have magazine articles for even the youngest of readers. Finally, students can read and discuss the information contained on the websites for various organizations that work to ameliorate the effects of hunger. Students will then synthesize their reading, consider what strategies may work best for organizing a food drive or fundraiser, and write and record a public service announcement that can be played on a community radio station, local cable access station, or both, sharing their knowledge as well as details about their project.

Creating Content for Younger Students

We know that in general, children can understand more complex information if they hear it or have it read aloud to them. Primary grade teachers often lament not having enough material that is developmentally appropriate for children, at a level that their students can read independently. Have the older students in your school research and record content that can be used by the younger children in your school. This can occur during library class or in conjunction with classroom research projects at the different grade levels.

Individually, in pairs, or small groups, students can research a topic, and create their own multimodal digital text to share. A project like this asks students to read and take notes on a topic and to compare and contrast the information and source material through careful discussion and deliberation. They will then have to outline and plan what the text will look like visually, negotiating details and differences, and finally, record their piece.

If posted on the library webpage, younger students will have access to the information. This is a wonderful project for Book Buddies. Of course, careful attention has to be paid to the accuracy of the student work. While doing all of this reading, writing, speaking, and listening, the older researchers will be enacting many of the Common Core State Standards.

Oral Histories

Turn your school library into an Oral History Center. By working with grade level teams, see if there are one or two willing to conduct oral histories as part of language arts/English class and/or in conjunction with social studies or science. Primary grade students can interview close family members or neighbors, while older elementary, middle, and high school students can interview community members in conjunction with specific units of study.

For instance, a high school chemistry class might interview scientists in the area if you have a local research center, university or manufacturing plant. Middle school students studying World War II might interview senior citizens in your area who were children at the time. For resources, go to StoryCorps or the Columbia Center for Oral History.

From left to rt: Myra Zarnowski, Marc Aronson, Mary Ann Cappiello

Eds. note: In last month’s column, “Deconstructing Nonfiction,” the authors considered the types of nonfiction texts, their purposes, and their use in the classroom.

Illustration by Jean Tuttle

After 20 wonderful years as a teacher librarian, I’ve gone over to the dark side. I’ve become a suit—an administrator—and the very worst kind, a district IT administrator! (Cue Darth Vader’s theme song.) Before you turn away in horror and disbelief, here’s a quick tell-all from the Evil Empire. I’m going to share some shocking (and instructive) secrets from the Death Star of Administration, explaining why principals should be your best friends and colleagues. I’m also going to stop using Star Wars metaphors.

My fade to gray didn’t occur overnight. I have worked as an instructional technology facilitator in Vancouver’s (WA) public schools since 2008. During the first three years, I was also Skyview High School’s full-time teacher librarian. Then, in 2011, my role changed: I spent half of my time in the library and the remaining half in the IT department. Depending on the day of the week, I was either “The Man” or I was working for him. And despite enjoying the opportunity to blame myself for whatever was wrong either with management or with teachers, in 2012, I was finally asked to make a choice between those two options. I think you’ve heard about receiving an offer you can’t refuse….

While I still see myself as a teacher librarian, last July, I became a real-live administrator with a spiffy title—manager of instructional technology and library services. During the last few years, I’ve been able to reflect on many of my own beliefs and assumptions about working with administrators. As a former teacher librarian, I’m also well aware of other perceptions that teachers have regarding management. Speaking now as a teacher—and not as a manager—I’ve come to realize that the reality is far more complex than a simple equation of us vs. them. Teacher librarians have far more in common with principals than we realize. I’d like to share some ways to find common ground with our friends in the corner office.

When I was in grad school, Joyce Petrie, my wise and now long-departed professor at Portland State University, explained in detail how library administration and building administration are a lot alike. She was right. Now, speaking from experience, I teach my University of Washington graduate students that school librarians often have more in common with principals than with their fellow teachers. Why is that? Like principals, we manage budgets, purchase materials, evaluate employees, and make executive decisions, ranging from selecting materials to determining instructional outcomes. Unlike many teachers, we know virtually everyone in the school by name and maintain positive working relationships with all of them. We also excel at putting a wide variety of district policies and programs into practice. Most importantly, like principals, we’re often the only ones in our schools who do the jobs that we do. I often hear teacher librarians say that they feel misunderstood, isolated, and even lonely in their positions. Empathy check: Do you think principals just might feel the same way?

If it hadn’t been for my many wonderful teaching colleagues, I wouldn’t have been the 2012 Washington State Teacher of the Year. But it all began with my Skyview High principal, Kym Tyelyn-Carlson. Over the course of five years, our professional friendship evolved beyond library advocacy and became a two-way exchange between educators who both cared deeply about the success of our school. We discussed everything from staff socials to strategic planning. When she called me into her office in May 2011 and told me she was nominating me for teacher of the year, it was less about my librarianship than it was about her perception of me as an educator. Well beyond my library role, I had become a trusted confidante, consigliere, and colleague. Kym isn’t an exception. I’ve enjoyed good and frequently great relationships with the six principals I’ve worked with during the last two decades. I’ve always seen them as allies rather than adversaries.

Before addressing the opportunities for media specialists to connect with principals, I’d like to dispel some common misconceptions. First, there’s a widespread belief that building and district administrators always think the same way. More often than not, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Get a principal to talk off-the-record, and you’ll find out for yourself. Despite the mysterious district meetings and the inscrutable binders on their shelves, principals struggle with translating district policy into practice as much as we do. In more than one meeting, I’ve heard them express frustration, uncertainty, fear, and powerlessness in the face of the same issues that teachers confront. Like other educators, building administrators are concerned about daily challenges such as poverty, student readiness, literacy, fear of violence, and assessments. In addition, many district policies and programs are often created with insufficient input from or consultation with building administrators. Like many teacher librarians, principals are the ones who must explain and train faculty in the policies and practices created by managers like me.

And what of the conspiracy theory that administrators are “all in it together”? Ask any superintendent: they’d retire and die happy if they could only get their administrative leadership teams to plan, work, and lead based on an authentically shared set of values and priorities. Even the highest-functioning educational administrations grapple with issues of nurturing and maintaining social capital—communication, relationships, leadership, and sustainability. Just like individual schools, district programs and departments work with specific challenges, leadership models, and cultures.

Are there bad principals? Yes. And bad teachers? Of course. Are there tyrannical administrators and administrations? Yes, probably. Do administrators circle the wagons when challenged? Yes, in the same way that teachers and librarians do when they’re threatened. Do administrators meet in secret to devise evil plans? Unlikely. I have found that most district conspiracy theories are often conflated with honest mistakes, incomplete planning, imperfect implementations, and/or poor communication. Speaking for my district, our leadership team cares deeply about students and it respects and values teachers and staff. We work very hard to get it right. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we could have done better.

This is where teacher librarians come in. By cultivating strong relationships with principals and even district administrators, we can strengthen library programs, not to mention improve schools and districts. I am wearing a suit because of relationships with both teachers and administrators, built on shared work, planning, and success. Here is a quick list of ways to create those relationships, even when you’d think it might be impossible.

Seek out win-win opportunities. Identify what keeps principals up at night and then offer to help. Right now, three big trains are barreling down the tracks—Common Core, new teacher and principal evaluation systems, and 21st-century student skills. In addition to running a school, principals are accountable for these vaguely defined and game-changing reforms. Choose one, learn as much as you can about it, and then offer to help your boss. Join them on district or regional teams. Offer to provide leadership in your building. You’re likely to be surprised at just how enthusiastically they say yes.

Give before you receive. Teacher librarians often conceive their relationships with principals as quid pro quo, beginning with the question “What will you do for me?” rather than, “What can I do for you?” Pay it forward with the goal of building trust, rapport, and a valuable relationship. Many years ago, I took up an offer by our former chief information officer to lead our district’s library automation project. I had a vested interest in the job being done right, and she wanted the implementation to go smoothly. Thanks to our partnership, the project was a success. A few years later, she asked me to join her team as an instructional technology facilitator.

Bridge the gap. Because of our hybrid roles, teacher librarians can effectively bridge the artificial divide between teachers and administration, and promote communication, collaboration, and advocacy between and across various roles and functions. In the same way that my recent leadership role blurs the definition of “The Man,” teacher librarians can provide unique building and even district leadership. Teachers often grapple with crossing a line by appearing too supportive of administration. As a teacher librarian, I never saw a line because my job was different. I necessarily had to see things from a systems perspective that included not only building administration and teachers, but also district interests. That’s why some of our teacher librarians currently lead a district task force to develop a digital citizenship program. They are working with administrators to develop a systemic digital content strategy, and they’re participating in state and district groups connected to the Common Core. Like principals, the best teacher librarians see the big picture and can build partnerships that ensure success.

Identify successes. Most teachers hesitate to call attention to their work or to be praised for it. But principals always want to be able to share good work with parents, peers, and their bosses. When teacher librarians see innovation, creativity, and greatness in the classroom, they should share those stories with the principal. Principals appreciate the ability to see and value success in others. More importantly, they value hearing about good things beyond the library program. In addition to building rapport with your principal, everyone wins. Teachers get the recognition they deserve. The principal better understands the great work that’s going on. And the school may well get some praise at the district’s next meeting. As a proponent of creativity in the classroom, I made it a point to highlight innovative teachers who dared to emulate Apple and its slogan “think different.” More often than not, Kym would nod in agreement. In those moments, we were of one mind, not about libraries, but about great teaching.

My friends and colleagues keep checking up on me and asking how I like my new job. I tell them it tastes like chicken. To me, the only significant difference between what I’m doing now and what I’ve done for years as a teacher librarian and an instructional technology facilitator is that there’s a different title below my name. Sad as it might seem, that changes a lot in my relationships with others, both among teachers and administrators. To many teachers, I’ve gone over to the dark side. To some administrators, I’m now part of the club. But here’s the reality—there’s no dark side; and there’s no key to the executive washroom. Thankfully, my teacher librarian colleagues still see me (and themselves) for what we are—occasionally lonely, frequently misunderstood, and loving the jobs that we do. Just like principals.

Mark Ray (Mark.Ray@vansd.org) is the manager of instructional technology and library services at the Vancouver (WA) Public Schools.

Common Curriculum

Ready or not, here they come. Currently adopted in part or in full by 45 states, the Common Core (CC) standards are seemingly on everyone’s mind. At almost every school I visited this year, teachers asked me to address the Common Core in my workshops. Planning lessons with CC in mind presents a challenge, but it doesn’t have to be difficult. New sites and services are popping up on the Web every day with the express purpose of helping plan lessons around Common Core. Let’s take a look at some of them.

Online resource Common Curriculum is designed to help educators align their lesson plans with CC standards. Common Curriculum provides an online plan book, which enables you to keep track of your class schedules and write your lesson plans. Enter a lesson into your Common Curriculum planner, then click “search for standard” to find a match for your lesson plan. Including more text in your lesson will improve search results, I’ve found.

A free application, Common Curriculum also enables users to attach files and links to their lesson plans, which really makes it easy to organize those digital materials in one place. Common Curriculum also has a built-in blogging feature. Once activated, the blog option will automatically post your lesson plans for you.

The heart of the Mastery Connect (see screencast below) service is an assessment tracker in which teachers and administrators can monitor each student’s progress toward meeting specifically selected Common Core standards. That data can be extremely useful in planning lessons. In an especially nice feature, Mastery Connect offers an app for iOS and Android that makes all of the Common Core standards available for immediate access from a smartphone. The app has been used by teachers more than 5.6 million times, according to the company. And you needn’t go it alone when planning your lessons. Mastery Connect offers an online network in which teachers across the country can connect to share ideas and lessons planned around the Common Core.

Need some inspiration for planning a Common Core-related lesson? There are a couple of places to start your search. The One Laptop Per Child project (one.laptop.org) recently created a wiki of elementary school lesson plans aligned to Common Core standards, XO Plans For You. Select your grade level, then a content area to find sample lesson plans. The lessons are archived as Google Documents, which you can download and or save onto your Google Drive account.

Popular virtual penpal service ePals has recently launched its own Common Core standards resource. The ePals Common Core Implementation Center is a bank of free project plans created by teachers and ePals staff. Search for projects by grade level and content area—currently limited to ELA and science. Many of the projects, though not all, involve using ePals. There are alternatives, if you don’t choose to use the service, but it might take a bit more creative effort on your part to make those particular lessons work.

As you plan your lessons in the new year, remember these free resources and take some of the stress out of aligning your plans to Common Core standards.

Richard Byrne (richardbyrne@freetech4teachers.com), a high school social studies teacher, writes the award-winning blog “Free Technology for Teachers.”

Photo: Stockbyte

Fans of baseball, football, and basketball, you all have something in common: it’s easy for you to tell what team is on the field, which one is off of it, and when players are changing their roles from offense to defense. In baseball, of course, three outs and the team at-bat retreats into the dugout, picks up its mitts, and trots back onto the field. In football, there are many variations and tricks of the trade. For example, a “hurry-up” offense is designed to move so quickly that the defense doesn’t have time to substitute fresh players onto the field. But in general, the exchange of players in our nation’s major sports is a slow and stately process that’s based on principles that kids learn when they first begin playing a particular game. There’s one sport, though, that’s totally different from the others—and I suspect it has a lesson to teach those of us in library land.

Unlike other sports, in hockey, players “change on the fly.” That is, a coach signals a group of players to jump onto the ice even as the others are whizzing off—the exchange happens in the middle of a play, as the puck is speeding down the ice. Hockey is such an exhausting sport that players only last a few minutes playing at full tilt, so a coach is constantly deliberating over whom to put in while trying to outguess the other coach’s moves. It’s a speeded-up, live chess match on ice.

I’m put in mind of hockey because of some recent developments in digital publishing. We’ve long known that Overdrive offers libraries subscriptions, rather than full ownership of books. Now Amazon has gotten into the act, offering its Prime members (who pay an annual fee) an ebook subscription. It strikes me that collection development is similar to the easy ebb and flow of offense and defense that I first described. A librarian knows her collection, sees where she needs to add titles, and from time to time, weeds those titles that have outlived their usefulness. But subscriptions are more like hockey.

In the digital subscription world, a librarian isn’t expecting her collection to remain the same for any length of time. She subscribes according to her current needs, knowing that the materials she has made available to today’s patrons may significantly change in the near future. For instance, she wants the latest and greatest of, say, news and financial databases. But in a subscription model, the constant churning and turnover isn’t just a matter of adhering to the latest dateline. A librarian may gain, or lose, an entire chunk of her collection as her subscription funding comes and goes, or as publishers’ digital policies change, or as patrons’ favorite digital devices shift.

What if we embrace a library model that’s part baseball and part hockey? What would such an arrangement look like? Print books, and some databases, would move in and out of the library at a leisurely pace, similar to ballplayers taking and leaving the field between innings. But digital subscriptions would constantly change on the fly: with new materials in, the old out, and the librarian playing the role of a highly tactical hockey coach, constantly matching ever-changing needs to ever-evolving resources. If that’s the case, the question isn’t “What do you own?” it’s “What do you need this very second?”

I can imagine a two-sport library, but there’s one caution. As you hockey fans well know, there’s one thing that can stop the rapid change of lines: when the game itself stops. The NHL and its players spent much of 2012 embroiled in a battle over money, and as a result, the players lost more than half of the current season. The one real danger in a subscription model is that it could break down totally and publishers could turn to some completely different plan. Well, if that happens, then librarian-coaches will just have to change partners and dance—on the fly.

McGraw Hill SmartBook

Despite the much-publicized grumblings about CES being less relevant this year due to the direct absence of big players like Microsoft, Apple, and Google, there were clear trends and several standout products at the January Consumer Electronics Show, which will likely impact K–12 education. Here’s a short list of highlights from CES, starting with an overarching trend that’s bound to affect a wide range of devices in coming years.

The future of display technology, foretold. Just the other day, I eyed a ceiling-mounted projector in my library that cost over $5,000 back in 2000 and still works, but just can’t cut it in today’s wide-screen, HD world. Considering the prospect of replacing it, I wonder, where will it end? Well, thanks to CES, I think I know: Ultra HD. It’s the display standard that’ll set the new bar for virtually all screens in the future.

Also known as 4K or Quad HD, Ultra HD was originally driven by digital cinema’s requirement for a high-def display dense enough to look good on really huge screens. Ultra HD displays, those boasting a horizontal resolution on the order of 4,000 pixels (a common one is 3,840 x 2,160), are definitely headed for a living room TV near you. At about 8.3 megapixels, Ultra HD has four times the pixels of HDTV. It’s not just about TV, though: Panasonic debuted a 20-inch Windows 8 tablet at CES with 4K resolution, and Qualcomm announced that its newest Snapdragon 600 and 800 mobile processors are now engineered to handle Ultra HD, too, so expect Ultra HD to make its way onto the screens of even the smallest personal devices. We’ll also see more OLED screens in the marketplace, with their richer colors and higher contrasts. Samsung has introduced super-thin, bendable, nearly unbreakable OLED displays. The technology, called Youm, could make curved screens and other yummy new display form factors commercially possible. Plus, Youm mojo could prove valuable in school settings where only the toughest screens survive. Some think Ultra HD could be the ultimate display resolution, the finest display we’ll ever need… or want. Do I believe that? No. But it should satisfy us for a while.

Adaptive ebooks and courseware. Imagine textbooks that actually revise themselves on-the-fly to adjust to an individual reader’s comprehension. That’s the idea behind SmartBooks from McGraw Hill Education. They’re multi-platform etextbooks, readable online or off, that adapt to how students respond to periodic review questions, reinforcing material that needs more attention. The company uses student behavior models to create the most efficient path toward subject area mastery. McGraw Hill Education is yet to set SmartBook prices, but expects them to be comparable to standard ebooks. Pearson was also reportedly at CES promoting similar adaptive products.

Gaming pioneer Nolan Bushnell, founder of Atari and Chuck E. Cheese, also believes that software that adapts to learners—keeping them on the optimum edge of their ability—maximizes academic achievement and learning enjoyment. That’s the idea behind his company, BrainRush. See how it works yourself: I challenge you to visit www.brainrush.com and take one of their sample lessons. Unless you immediately nail the drill, you’ll feel the software adjusting to your mistakes. I took the lesson on South American countries and could sense the software repeatedly trying different ways to get me to stop confusing Guyana with nearby French Guiana. Eventually, I caught on. And Paraguay is north of Uruguay… duh.

Robotics for students of all ages. Fans of Lego Mindstorms robotics kits, popular in classrooms and homes for well over a decade, will be happy to hear that a new set, Lego Mindstorms EV3, is scheduled for release this spring. The $350 kit reportedly includes 17 different bot designs. Builders can follow plans on paper or tablets, or they can invent new robots freestyle. The kit includes a variety of new and improved sensors and capabilities, has a Linux-based, programmable brick that aspiring hackers can mess with, and is compatible with Mindstorms NXT components. Students can remotely control their robotic creations with apps for iOS and Android, and curricular support is available at www.legoeducation.us.

While the Mindstorms kit is recommended for ages 10 and up, younger kids can have hi-tech fun with Cubelets from Modular Robotics. Cubelets are blocks that simply snap together; no wiring or programming is needed. Each block has either a sensor, logic, or action function. Put them together in different ways and they do different things. Kits start at $159.95.

The XO Learning Tablet. Remember the One Laptop Per Child initiative and the so-called $100 laptop from back in 2005? Well, the One Laptop Per Child nonprofit has now unveiled a commercial product, the XO Learning Tablet. Manufactured by Vivitar, it will be available in the U.S. through retailers, including WalMart, sometime next fall for a price rumored to be around $149. The 7″ tablet will feature front-and rear-facing cameras and can function as a standard Android tablet in parent mode, or a heavily skinned, child-centered, and career-focused Android tablet for kids as young as three. When it’s in child mode, young users choose a professional aspiration—say scientist, for example—and then get access to a vetted set of apps relevant to scientific pursuits. (Alas, school librarian is not currently a career choice.) A robust parental dashboard gives adults full control over their child’s access and provides detailed reports on how the tablet is being used.

And who knows what else? One of the great things about CES is that, warts and all—and no matter how cringe-worthy its keynote address might happen to be—the annual trade show retains its spirit of playful innovation. That was demonstrated this year by the number of creative products at CES that were funded through the grassroots online platform Kickstarter. Who can foresee how these products, no matter how whimsical they seem now, might wind up touching the future? Consider the Puzzlebox Orbit Brain Controlled Helicopter. While it may seem like nothing more than an impractical plaything today, the company is encouraging the development of the open-source BCI (brain-computer-interface) that controls the toy copter. BCI technology is already impacting “serious” fields like vision science and prosthetics, and—who knows?—it could even wind up affecting the most serious profession of all, education.

First, a tangent: anyone who has spent time grappling with the Common Core (CC) English Language Arts standards knows that they have significantly raised the stakes on text complexity. Books that, say, we once thought were a challenging choice for fifth graders are now considered appropriate for fourth graders.

Why has the bar been raised, even though, just a few years ago, No Child Left Behind focused on kids who read below the old, less demanding, grade-level standards?

A key reason is that the metrics for upper YA titles—the types of books that teens have been assigned as the ultimate high school challenge—are 200 Lexile points below what high school seniors will be facing the following year in college. If K–12 education is a fire truck ladder, then we’ve built it too short to reach the escape window. In order to make sure that students are prepared for college, we needed to add more rungs to the ladder.

CC increases the text complexity so much that by kids’ final year in high school there are, as far as I know, no YA nonfiction books that meet the new education guidelines. To remedy that situation, students must necessarily read adult books, primary sources, or academic books. Fine. So if that’s where we’re leading students, how do we get them there?

An adult history book assumes that the reader already knows—or can know, or should know—something about the topic. If, for instance, a writer talks about the 1798 Alien and Sedition Acts in a biography of John Adams, he assumes that the reader has studied them in school or can quickly Google them. The author’s job is to give an engaging take on what the passage of those bills tell us about Adams, and how this fresh perspective helps us see Adam’s time, and perhaps our own, in a new light. Since the reader knows the basic information, the originality is in the author’s thinking and presentation, and a source note may simply list where he got the primary source.

YA and academic books, though, have different goals. Books for young readers don’t presume our audience already knows the story. Indeed, even as we’re presenting what we hope is an enticing view of either an unfamiliar event (such as the race to make the first atom bomb or the outbreak of an 18th-century Yellow Fever epidemic in Philadelphia), or a familiar one (like the Great Depression or the 1963 March on Washington), we need to make sure that our readers understand both the basics and our new take. We have to treat the information itself as potentially new to them. This puts those of us who write for young adults in the same place as an academic historian, since he or she is presenting original research that’s aimed at shifting how we view the past.

Thus we, like the academic historian, need to let our readers into the process: Where does our information come from? Are there other perspectives? Are our sources reliable? We can’t presume that our readers have the necessary background, so we need to provide them with it; that’s why our citations need to be annotated. We need to show kids how our claims, our knowledge, are cooked.

Authors who merely cite sources without discussing them are seeing YA history as using a story to pass along settled information. This is appealing to fiction fans, who enjoy the narrative flow of a nonfiction book (and are thrilled that it doesn’t resemble a textbook), but for whom the information is the medicine which the spoonful of narrative sugar makes palatable. Not being familiar with either the content or the way that historians construct knowledge, they don’t miss what they don’t know. Those who question, discuss, and compare their sources see YA history as using a story to acquaint readers with the process of how knowledge is created. This is at the heart of historical writing, but may be totally unfamiliar to fiction readers, who often enjoy speculating about character and motivation in novels, but may have never learned that the same kind of thinking must be applied to our understanding of the real world.

I think annotated citations are great even for kids in the youngest grades, because we want them to be pestering us, demanding that we explain “How do you know that?” But by the upper-middle grades and certainly by high school this is no longer a choice. Our books are always as much about the construction of knowledge as about the information itself. To put it a different way, our highest goal isn’t merely that history should read like a novel, but that it should be as much of a puzzle as a math problem and as open to interpretation as a poem.

“Well-written” in nonfiction necessarily means “well-considered.” History is, ultimately, an invitation to the reader to participate in the process of thinking about, and thus re-imagining, who we are and how we got that way. That is what college offers. We can only make the link by sharing our process of discovery with our younger readers.

Coda: Right now, a related debate is going on among prominent historians and history educators. Stanford’s Sam Wineburg recently wrote a marvelous critique of Howard Zinn’s work—featuring his poor use of sources, which was then criticized by NYU’s Robert Cohen. For my take on the debate, with links to the Wineburg essay, see http://nonfictionandthecommoncore.blogspot.com/2013_01_01_archive.html; and for Cohen’s critique, visit http://hnn.us/articles/when-assessing-zinn-listen-voices-teachers-and-students.

Launched in October 2012, StarWalk Kids currently offers 150 gorgeously designed pre-K through grade 8 ebooks from about 60 authors in its growing collection, which is expected to swell to 400 titles by the end of the 2012–2013 school year, according to Liz Nealon, cofounder of the product’s parent StarWalk Kids Media.

Tightly curated for exceptional quality, the collection is about 60 percent highly illustrated nonfiction, and all titles are simultaneous-access licensed, making a subscription to StarWalk Kids a solid way to support Common Core State Standards (CCSS) for reading and writing. Each title includes vetted links to author and illustrator information, plus a “Teaching Links” PDF that lists the related CC standards, with ideas for extending learning through supplemental classroom activities.

StarWalk ebooks are basically device agnostic and can be enjoyed using virtually any device with a Flash-enabled Web browser to display the excellent, proprietary StarWalk Reader. IPad users will also soon be able to stream StarWalk Kids titles via an HTML 5-based app currently awaiting Apple approval. Users can have titles read to them by professional narrators, with or without text highlighting, or they can read selections themselves.

Teachers will appreciate the simple yet robust toolkit built into the StarWalk Reader, which includes the ability to highlight, add notes, zoom in or out, and jump to a page by either entering a page number or mousing over the bottom of the screen to reveal page thumbnails and selecting any of them. Educators and parents can also use StarWalk’s advanced search feature to browse the collection by Lexile level, alphabetic reading level, CC standards, and other criteria.

Whether its ebook titles were initially published in print or are digital originals, StarWalk Kids is meticulous about design and offers only fixed-format ebooks to preserve their visual integrity. While they’re perfect for viewing on interactive whiteboards, computers, and full-size tablets, the obvious trade-off for that visual consistency is that StarWalk Kids titles aren’t as easily viewed on smaller devices like smartphones as reflowable text ebooks would be.

It’s also worth noting that non-subscribers can buy many StarWalk Kids titles à la carte to enjoy on Kindle Fire and Nook tablet models.

For more information about StarWalk Kids and to sign up for a free trial, visit www.StarWalkKids.com.

For our part, we saw a disconnect when SLJ’s public library spending survey revealed that a mere nine percent of public librarians actively collaborate with their peers in K–12. After we published the results in “It Takes Two” (May 2012, pp. 26–29), we learned about many partnerships, and we also heard from many from both school and public librarians who seemed burned out by failed outreach attempts.

Yoder and Lowry may be a rare breed, but, as is abundantly clear in our cover story, “Partners in Success” (pp. 22–28), they’re not alone. Many like-minded librarians are reaching across institutional walls and redefining their turf—and their institutions are changing, too. Considering the yawning gap between what kids need from libraries and the resources currently available to them, innovation in this area is urgent.

At first, I was inspired by the spark between two professionals that ignites a new partnership. I still am. This kind of grassroots initiative is grounded in knowing the kids, and, when it works, helps build the case for more. Now, however, I’m even more convinced that our institutions need to act with the same responsiveness and creativity.

We need more of what’s happening in Nashville. Talking with Metropolitan Nashville Public Schools’ Kathryn Bennett brought this home. I met Bennett, a library lead teacher, at Library Journal’s December 14 Design Institute at the wonderful Warrensville Heights Branch of the Cuyahoga County (OH) Public Library. It was great to see her at this public library event—after all, there’s plenty of insight into learning spaces in any good library.

Naturally, we fell into talking about Nashville’s Limitless Libraries initiative. Bennett is a big fan of the project, which, she says, wouldn’t be nearly what it is without the “Memorandum of Understanding” between the school and Nashville Public Library (NPL).

As NPL’s Tricia Racke Bengel details in her overview of how Limitless Libraries came to be, the memorandum enables the library to use information about students, with parental permission, so their student IDs serve as library cards, streamlining access to the collections. Racke Bengel, who was named a 2012 LJ Mover & Shaker for this work, describes a process that was certainly disruptive. The project keeps expanding as it enriches the lives of Nashville’s kids.

After reading cover story writer Marta Murvosh’s exploration of the state of public and/school library collaborations, I’m even more convinced of the need for us be actively reimagine how we serve our kids. And we must break down the silos that stymie that work.

Toward that end, SLJ will be giving more attention to collaboration in 2013 in an effort to forge a model to help us join together to approach challenges as a greater community. We’ll focus on these partnerships as part of the first SLJ Public Library Leadership Think Tank, currently in planning for April 5 in New York City. The daylong event aims to provide a public library companion to SLJ’s dynamic Leadership Summit, aimed at tackling school library issues. My hope is that the two events will, in a sense, ping pong off of one another to foster deeper dialog on the commonalities shared by all librarians serving kids. Collaboration will also be a theme in the upcoming Be the Change webcast series, which we bet will be the start of a robust leadership initiative.

Let’s change the world together. Happy New Year!

Rebecca T. Miller
Editor-in-Chief
rmiller@mediasourceinc.com

In the tablet market, the push to unseat the iPad had competitors slapping an HD tag on every supersize device they produced, while Apple went small, releasing its seven-inch iPad Mini in October.

Nothing small about ebook prices for libraries, with Random House tripling prices for that market, with $28 titles ratcheted to $84, and Hachette doubling prices on their backlisted titles. Amazon finally devised a school model—but using it as intended violates their terms of service.

So what’s in store for 2013? I see three key areas: changing ebook business models, access to more content, and affordable new hardware. The first two points are strongly linked. By exploring new business models, we could access collections of resources, which have been previously unavailable to schools. To make this work, we have to find ways to overcome the roadblocks to ebook lending experienced by public libraries.

School libraries, I believe, will be the coming focal point for ebook licensing. We have strong relationships with our K–12 publishing partners, but now we must reach out to the trade houses. As the print market weakens, the time is right for schools to present a new business proposal.

The fact is, the big trade houses aren’t very keen on “selling” ebooks to libraries. To justify its $84 ebooks, Random House implied that libraries owned the titles, but applied so many restrictions that ownership was effectively obviated by all the fine print.

So let’s give them another option. Rather than seeking to own ebooks, school libraries should instead seek more favorable deals in a short-term lease market. Support classroom instruction with two-month book rentals, or license titles for three-year terms to avoid locking the school into endless recycling of the same novels.

If publishers are concerned about the impact on consumer sales, we can point out that these ebooks are for instructional use and not pleasure reading. By writing licenses that restrict ebook use in classroom settings, we’re giving up some access but opening up a huge new world of content. Besides, we can always buy print books for independent reading.

Finally, 2013 should be an exciting year for hardware. By year’s end, I expect we’ll see sub-$100 tablets, not knock-off brands, but fully supported devices akin to the Kindle and Nook. We might also see color digital ink readers with better support for illustrated books. But the main hardware issue will be accessibility. Two high-profile lawsuits in 2012 established that schools and libraries purchasing ebook readers must buy accessible devices. Currently, none of the E-Ink based devices (Kindle Paperwhite or Nook Simple Touch, for example) are accessible, according to ADA definitions. Make sure your district considers accessibility if it’s planning to buy mobile computing and reading devices this year.

 Christopher Harris (infomancy@gmail.com) is coordinator of the school library system of the Genesee Valley (NY) Educational Partnership.

Photograph by Tallulah Photography.

In The Reluctant Journal of Henry K. Larsen, his older brother brings a hunting rifle to school to kill his merciless tormentor—and then takes his own life. Where’d that idea come from?

There were two books of Wally Lamb’s that I pulled little things from. But in The Hour I First Believed, the protagonist’s wife is at Columbine when the boys open fire. There was a line in that book about the fact that one of these boys had an older brother and for some reason it just kind of punched me in the gut, and I thought, “Oh, my god, I never thought about the fact that these people—and in that case, one of them actually was a monster—but these people have their own families. They have siblings. What would it be like for the surviving brother?

Why is there so much humor in such a troubling story?

I can’t write a book without humor, and this was certainly as dark as I have gone in any of my books. What really worked for me is that the story is told in first person. When you’re dealing with a 13-year-old boy and his perspective on life, at that age, we tend to be very self-centered, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. There are going to be things that make readers laugh in terms of his interactions with other people, his impressions of other people, because they’re his private thoughts. So when Henry is first meeting his neighbors and Farley and Alberta, that’s a very natural way to bring humor into the story, even though Henry never thinks he’s being funny, of course.

Did you use humor to deal with the world while growing up with a single parent in Ontario, Canada?

Oh, my God, that’s such a great question! Nobody’s ever asked me that before. Yeah, I did. I was a performer from a very early age. We would try to get parents to sit down and watch a play that I had made the neighborhood kids rehearse and memorize. I think I actually had a little book of kids’ plays that my mom had given me. And so I would force all the other kids into participating, and we would put on performances, and they would involve really bad jokes.

Henry’s family and his friend Farley are huge pro wrestling fans. How’d you write so sympathetically about a sport that you’re not really into?

I was having lunch with a writer friend, and he said—and I think Alberta says this in the book—that wrestling is “like a soap opera for guys.” Suddenly, the penny dropped for me. I thought, OK, that makes a certain amount of sense. Now I understand why people might enjoy watching this.

You got your first break writing TV screenplays after serving snacks to the cast of Degrassi Junior High. Were your muffins any good, or were you a lousy baker like Henry’s sassy girlfriend, Alberta?

That’s really weird that you asked me that, because I don’t think I’ve ever made that connection before. I didn’t make the muffins, I bought them. But the kids on Degrassi wrote a poem to me at the end of the first season. It goes like this: “An ode to Susin, the Brand Muffin Queen, we eat them, we die, then we turn green.”

Sadly enough, after we first spoke, there was another school shooting.

I was devastated by the news. I got a message from a woman who lives in Connecticut that moved me beyond words. Here’s what she wrote: The Reluctant Journal of Henry K. Larsen has really had me thinking after these recent horrific events at Sandy Hook Elementary. One big problem I had prior to reading this book was that I was ignorant of the feelings of a shooter’s family members. It has helped me to pray for the members of the Lanza family who are also suffering at this terrible time.

In turn, her students have been guided in the inquiry process and taught how to make connections. They are learning how to develop intriguing questions for further discovery and research, investigate a topic, construct new meanings, develop opinions and supporting arguments, apply new understandings, create final products, and reflect on what they learned. These teaching practices, all of which are called for throughout the CCSS, place this school librarian at the core of education in her school and a model for others to follow.

As Poser’s familiarity and understanding of the Common Core grew, she realized she had an opportunity to take a strong role in the implementation of these new standards. With the ongoing support and encouragement from her principal, Lenny Santamaria, she attended several workshops on the Common Core and alignment with NYC’s Information Fluency Continuum. She began to recognize where the information literacy skills she has taught for the past 17 years merge with the CCSS. She also noticed, however, most educators did not express the same confidence.

Success with teachers and parents

To make inroads, Poser started to share her knowledge of inquiry with staff, parents, and students. She gave a workshop on text complexity for staff and attended curriculum-planning meetings, providing resources and informational text to complement instructional units. She expanded her collaborative relationships and developed engaging projects with new teachers in the school.

She analyzed the collection and looked at how to enhance it. The shift to Common Core called for more non-fiction texts, and Poser thought outside the box when it came to expanding the library’s collection. She won a grant for a specialized collection on the American presidency that provided $5,000 for new materials. Then she developed a collaborative inquiry unit with the art teacher around the new collection, introducing students to primary sources, speeches, policies, and biographies of these U.S. leaders.

Meanwhile, Poser created book displays thoughtfully highlighting engaging nonfiction at varying reading levels. The titles circulate often and change regularly, focusing on Poser’s Picks of the Month, which features tie-ins across subject areas with both fiction and nonfiction.

Collaborating with the principal and parent coordinator, Poser helped create an informational pamphlet for parents that explains the Common Core and highlights the resources available through the library. Additionally, she facilitated a workshop at a PTA meeting, introducing parents to the library’s website, walking them through databases, and demonstrating how to use the online catalog from home. She even showed them how to cite sources.

Poser also developed new programming that reached out to parents and students, inviting them after school hours to Warm Up with a Good Book and Vote for Books. Both programs focused on nonfiction titles and brought parents into the physical library space, helping them make connections with their children and the resources available to support the Common Core.

Real-world connections

The Common Core forces students to connect ideas outside of the classroom to the real world. To meet the standards, students and teachers need to develop new dynamics like the ones modeled by Poser. They also require us all to overcome the angst that these changes make many educators feel. Librarians like Christine Poser are key to a successful transition. With the support of administrators, they can have a huge impact on the implementation of the new standards.

Melissa Jacobs-Israel (Mjacobs7@schools.nyc.gov) is Coordinator, NYC School Library System, NYC Department of Education, Office of Library Services. To submit an On Common Core opinion piece, please contact Rebecca T. Miller at rmiller@mediasourceinc.com.