Image source |
Although Calkins’ work is
not directly referenced in Australia as much as it appears to be in North
America, the kinds of ideas she espouses, certainly do permeate, via the
ubiquitous Balanced
Literacy, which readers of this blog will know is really just Whole Language 2.0.
I’ve had a careful read of Calkin’s essay,
and would like to share some reflections here.
Firstly, there’s the title, which does seem
to have a slightly petulant, foot-stamping edge to it. Calkins is right, in the
sense that no-one “owns” the science of anything. Science is its own master, and
does not have one face for some, and another face for others, despite Kenneth
Goodman’s extraordinary statement
to Emily Hanford earlier this year, that “my science is different”.
Reference to “phonics-centric people” in
the opening line is hardly a major piece of epistemological détente (and nor is
“the new hype about phonics”), and portends the inevitable straw man, that we
knew was going to turn up somewhere in the essay, and there it is on page 4: Should
schools increase the focus on phonics at the expense of everything else”? Of
course, Calkins does not cite evidence that anyone on the science of reading
side of the debate argues this, for the simple reason that they don’t.
Calkins’ other straw man argument early on
is that phonics is not all that “kids” (her word) need in the early stages;
they also need instructional support in vocabulary, comprehension, fluency, and
writing. As has been resoundingly
argued by science of reading advocates for decades.
Calkins does, however, make some statements
that support longstanding arguments by advocates for the science of reading,
such as (p.1):
- “It is true that young children need explicit instruction in grapho-phonics"
- “Children need to be taught the ways in which 26 letters combine to make words”.
- “Immersion in a sea of books is not enough”.
- “Speech is like walking, inborn and innate. Reading and writing are like driving a car. They don’t come naturally”.
Predictably, though, Calkins writes (p. 2) “I
do not know any school system that doesn’t ascribe (sic) to the belief
that explicit instruction in phonics is one of the foundations for learning to
read and write”. This is classic Balanced Literacy-speak for “phonics is in the
mix”, or “phonics is one of a range of approaches” used. Calkins refers to
instruction needing to be planned and systematic but stops short of specifying
what this should look like in the classroom – except to say it should be “based
on research”. That is the kind of non-specific advice from influential people that helped to get us into this mess in the first place.
Calkins' attempted sleight of hand in re-packaging multi-cueing (also known as three-cueing, or search-lights) as an assessment tool rather than a core instructional approach is almost laughable, and will fool no-one. Alongside its actual assessment partner, Running Records, it is a widely promoted and defended teaching method in Balanced Literacy circles in Australia and no doubt in other English-speaking countries smitten by Whole Language and its descendant pedagogies.
Calkins' attempted sleight of hand in re-packaging multi-cueing (also known as three-cueing, or search-lights) as an assessment tool rather than a core instructional approach is almost laughable, and will fool no-one. Alongside its actual assessment partner, Running Records, it is a widely promoted and defended teaching method in Balanced Literacy circles in Australia and no doubt in other English-speaking countries smitten by Whole Language and its descendant pedagogies.
There is a growing emphasis in the US on
schools and school systems needing to identify children with dyslexia
and provide appropriate instructional support. Dyslexia seems to be something of
an Achilles' heel for Calkins, as she acknowledges that such children account
for 5-15% of learners, and argues that these children need “structured
multi-sensory phonics support” (p. 7). But hang on a minute, wasn’t she claiming
earlier in her essay, that all children need structured, explicit phonics
instruction? Now she is arguing that
the type of instruction children with dyslexia need is materially different
from the type of instruction that typically developing children need. This does
not align with current
conceptualisations of dyslexia interventions, which call for increased
dose, intensity and frequency of instruction, rather than approaches that are
materially different from those used in Tier 1.
Equally worryingly, Calkins argues that it is
unrealistic to expect classroom teachers to meet the needs of children in their
class with dyslexia. This statement is alarming at a number of levels. It is
common for children with reading problems (whether formally diagnosed as dyslexia
or not) to go
undetected for too long before any intervention is provided. Calkins’ world
view will see these children languishing in classrooms, because the version of “explicit
phonics instruction” they are receiving is in fact not sufficiently robust to
avert or address their difficulties. Calkins makes no reference to how such
children should be identified and supported (or by whom), nor to the opportunity cost for them of the time
that elapses before they receive a diagnosis (if, in fact they ever do). Such
children seem to be the acceptable collateral damage (in some cases, what Reid Lyon described as "instructional casualties") of a system in which
Calkins claims it is not practical to properly equip pre-service teachers to explicitly
teach phonics to novice readers. She goes so far as to acknowledge, however,
that there is a school-to-prison pipeline filled with “children with untreated
dyslexia” (p. 7) and that such children are at high risk of psychosocial dysfunction. Hey ho.
In spite of claiming to be “on board” with
the science of reading, Calkins’ lack of authenticity on this is betrayed by
the fact that she suggests an unethical state-auspiced experiment, in which one
consortium of school districts adopts a "serious study of phonics", while another
consortium adopts “other horizons as their focus” (p. 7). If she was truly on board with the science of
reading (as she claims), she would know that experimenting on children like this
would be akin to withdrawing antenatal screening from one group of pregnant women,
while continuing it for another. What is to be gained here at this point in history?
The essay is a little over seven pages
long, but remarkably light on for references, relying instead on the writer’s
presumed authority. Disappointingly, it includes a thinly veiled ad hominen attack on APM Reports journalist Emily Hanford, who has made it her business in recent years to turn over every rock she can find on the issue of reading instruction. Attacking people, rather than their arguments, is very low down in the food chain of intellectual debate.
Apart from the major logical
inconsistencies I have identified above, I felt this essay was permeated by a
slightly testy, defensive tone, reflecting perhaps a desire to be on the right
side of history, but the irritation of knowing that this requires some reluctant major
concessions to be made. It reminded me a bit of those semi-contrite apologies
that politicians make, when they know they have transgressed in some way, but
they are regretful rather than remorseful.
The concessions do not go far enough and on
every page, Calkins’ true Whole Language/Balanced Literacy biases seep through,
revealing that though she wants to be on the right side of history, she is running
with the hare, and hunting with the hound.
That, however, is not how
science works. (C) Pamela Snow (2019)