I’m a former high school English teacher, and I’m currently a literacy researcher at the University of Sydney in Australia. I think that books are valuable – and I think that it’s important to understand how teens are engaging with literature and developing their literacy on Hunger Games-related fansites.

For the past year, I’ve talked with teens around the world.  My study is ongoing, and I would love to find more research participants.  If you’re between the ages of 11 and 17 and live in the United States, Canada, or Australia, will you participate in this study? 

With your parents’ permission, I will talk with you over email or Skype to learn more about your passion for The Hunger Games and how you participate in fansites. Please email me at js.curwood@sydney.edu.au for more information or to join my research. Your real name will be confidential and your privacy will be protected. I’d love to hear your story, and I think that parents and teachers could learn a lot from you.

Why is this research important?  I hear a lot of people say that, “Teens don’t read” or “The Internet is a waste of time.” And I just don’t think that’s always true.  Teens do read – if they have good books at hand. And the Internet is an incredible way to connect with other fans and develop literacy skills.  I think that adults should know about (and care about!) how young people engage with literature and fan culture.

These are the opening words of Will Grayson, Will Grayson, which is co-authored by John Green and David Levithan.  I love to read when I travel, and I picked it up before heading to the Literacy Research Association conference in December.  Let me say this: it’s the kind of book that can make you laugh out loud on a crowded plane.  But it’s also filled with teenage angst, awkwardness, and heartache.  In short, it’s a great mix of everything.

I loved David Levithan’s first novel, Boy Meets Boy, and I’ve used it in class before.  Many of his books are love stories, and it looks like his latest, The Lover’s Dictionary, is no exception.  Every day for the past 23 years, Levithan has written a story for his friends for Valentine’s Day.  John Green is also a well-known young adult author and his work includes Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns.  I read Paper Towns last year.  While the characters and their pranks are over-the-top, I was drawn into the compelling storyline.  Green is also one half of the Vlogbrothers and founder of Nerdfighters.  I purchased Will Grayson in a local bookstore, and a couple of pages in, I found a handwritten note from a local fan.  It thanked me for buying the book and proclaimed, “Don’t forget to be awesome!”  Here’s a Nerdfighters FAQ:

Will Grayson, Will Grayson tells the story of two Will Graysons who live in the Chicago area.  Other than their name, they don’t have much in common.  They meet by chance in a porn shop (which is not as bad as it sounds).  Neither of them really meant to be there, they’re both a bit heartbroken, and admittedly freaked out to meet someone with the same name.  But soon Will is introduced to O.W.G.’s (Other Will Grayson’s) best friend, Tiny Cooper.  As O.W.G. explains, “Tiny Cooper is not the world’s gayest person, and he is not the world’s largest person, but I believe that he may be the world’s largest person who is really, really gay, and also the world’s gayest person who is really, really large.”

Tiny Cooper is a central figure in the story – so much so that the book could have easily been titled Will Grayson, Will Grayson, and Tiny Cooper.  Levithan and Green each write in the voice of a different Will Grayson, and the chapters alternate this first-person narration.  Some of my middle school and high school students used to struggled with books written with multiple narrators, but each Will has a very unique voice and perspective so I don’t think that would be an issue here.  I think that this would be a great addition to any high school teacher’s classroom library, and I can see it be incorporated into literature circles that focus on friendship or relationships.

Over on his blog, John Green talks about his experience with co-authoring a book.  Consequently, I think Will Grayson might be a wonderful example of collaborative writing that teachers could use in their curriculum, perhaps in conjunction with tools like Bubbl.us, Google Docs, or MixedInk.  To open it up to more collaborators and readers, look to Novlet or Protagonize.

Image Credit: John Green

Meet Billy Bloom, a self-described twinkle queen, glitteroid, and gender obscurist.

At the beginning of James St. James‘ novel Freak Show, Billy is trying to get ready for his first day at a new school.

“Okay, here it is.  My outfit:
Don’t worry.
It’s totally masculine.
Swarthy, even.
Nobody will suspect a thing.

I’m going with a whole retro, new-wave/Vivienne Westwood/pirate look. Fab, right? What’s straighter than a pirate? Ruffled lace shirt, unbuttoned down to THERE. High-waisted blue pant, practically sprayed on. Nothing gay about that, right?

A thrift store military jacked in Prussian blue, a crimson sash, some rags tied in my hair…
Then what? Pearls?
Eye patch?
Cap’n Crunch hat?
Trusty sword?
Gold teeth?
No, no, no. It’s all too much. Well, maybe one gold tooth.”

For the School of Education’s second Common Read series, we’ll read Freak Show.  On the University of Wisconsin – Madison campus, there will be a number of events, including discussions about the book, LGBTQ rights, censorship, Gay-Straight Alliances, and even a public lecture by James St. James.

Last year, the English Journal published an article entitled Fight for Your Right: Censorship, Selection, and LGBTQ Literature that I co-wrote with Cooperative Children’s Center librarians Kathleen T. Horning and Megan Schliesman.  In conjunction with the Common Read, the three of us will give a presentation on integrating books into the curriculum that feature LGBTQ characters.  Please join us for this on November 18 at 4:30 pm in 159 Education.

But make sure you pick up Freak Show yourself.  As an English teacher, I have to say that it’s one of the best examples of voice that I’ve come across in a long time.  While the GLSEN survey shows how unsafe our schools are for many LGBTQ youth, Freak Show provides a way for teachers and students to discuss some of the complex issues around sexuality, gender identity, and heterosexual privilege.  But it’s all wrapped up in the unforgettable character of Billy Bloom who, incidentally, decides to go with a post-pirate look.  As he declares, “I’m a pirate who’s getting out of the life.  But slowly, you know.  I’m lubbin’ the land but missing my parrot.  Yarg.”

Image Credit: Dutton Juvenile Books, Cover of Freak Show

As if I needed another reason to love Sydney.

Not only is it one of my favorite cities in the world and where I met my husband, the Opera House is hosting GRAPHIC next month.

Comic books, illustration, animation, music, multimedia and other new ways of telling stories have not only changed the face of our popular culture, they now define it. Graphic novels and comic art are now a leading source of inspiration for films, television, clothing, designers, musicians and artists the world over. GRAPHIC celebrates this brave new world in a weekend of specially commissioned productions – with musical responses to graphic art and stories, workshops, panels, a film program, a games exhibition and an animation competition.

I’ll be in Australia then with my husband Michael and our eleven year old son, Cole. As part of GRAPHIC, we’re excited to see Shaun Tan’s The Arrival, set to a live score.  According to the Opera House website, percussionist Ben Walsh randomly discovered The Arrival in a book store. He fell in love with the story and thought about how he could create music to accompany it.  Three years later, his musical vision will come to life at the Opera House.

I’ve used The Arrival in undergraduate courses on children’s literature and young adult literature.  As a wordless picture book, it serves as a fabulous way to show pre-service teachers how to “read” images.  We begin by discussing how the size of images correlates to reading speed.  A series of small images, for instance, means that they should be read quickly.  With images that take up the full page, however, they should be read with more attention to how lines, colors, and shapes work together to shape the reader’s meaning making processes.

Shaun Tan will be doing a signing after the show, so of course I’m planning on packing my copy of The Arrival in my suitcase.  I’m trying to figure out how to attend some of the other GRAPHIC events, including talks by Kevin Smith and Neil Gaiman, but I’ve already signed up for the 14K City2Surf run that weekend too.  (It goes through Kings Cross, Rushcutters Bay, Double Bay, Rose Bay, Vaucluse, Dover Heights and Bondi Beach, with the 2K long Heartbreak Hill in the middle.  Doesn’t that sound like a lovely way to see the city?  Over 76,000 runners think so!  Michael, a cyclist, begs to differ).

I also teach The Graveyard Book, but Gaiman will be reading from a previously unreleased story called The Truth Is A Cave In The Black Mountains. His read alouds are incredible, and at each stop of his nine city tour in 2008, he read a chapter aloud.  I’ve used these read alouds in class, since they’re a great way to introduce readers to Nobody Owens.  Alas, Tan and Gaiman are scheduled at the same time, and The Arrival wins out for now.  But I’ll end with the trailer for The Graveyard Book anyway.

Image Credit: Shaun Tan, The Arrival

“You’re facing ten years in prison and $200,000 in fines.”

I never imagined that I’d hear those words, let alone from an immigration official.  I was born and raised in Wisconsin, a U.S. citizen by birth.  My crime?  I married an Australian.

To the immigration official, my related crimes included not adding my new husband to my house deed or bank accounts, having a pre-nup, and not taking his last name.  (In an effort to keep Michael in the States and out of jail, I went to court to legally add Curwood to my name a year after we got married).

Taken together, the immigration official thought that we had a sham marriage, so he separated us, threatened us with prison and fines, and individually administered the immigration fraud interview.  You’ll be happy to know that I remembered how we met (in Sydney), what Michael had for dinner the night before (fish) and what side of the bed he sleeps on (right). Luckily, we made it through the immigration process and my husband now holds a U.S. Permanent Resident card in addition to his Australia and New Zealand citizenship and right of abode in the United Kingdom. 

I can say that this experience has given me much more insight into the immigration process and empathy for those who attempt to immigrate to a new country, whether legally or illegally, voluntarily or seeking asylum.  When I teach classes on young adult literature, I make sure to address these issues.  Here are three fabulous books that I’ve used recently in undergraduate and graduate classes at the University of Wisconsin – Madison on the topic of immigration: La Línea, Red Glass, and Home of the Brave.

Here, I’ll focus on La Línea and immigration from Mexico.  But definitely check out the other two books, too.  Laura Resau’s Red Glass is a wonderful story, narrated by an American teenager, about the immigration experiences of her friends and family from Central America and Eastern Europe.  And K.A. Applegate’s Home of the Brave, written in free verse, is the story of Kek, a refugee from Sudan who arrives in Minnesota.  Not only must Kek adapt to a new country, language, and culture, he must deal with the past (and the memories) that are rooted in war-torn Sudan.

La Línea, by Ann Jaramillo, focuses on the story of Miguel.  Six years, eleven months, and twelve days ago, his parents left him and his younger sister Elena behind in Mexico in order to seek work in California.  On the day of his fifteenth birthday, Miguel’s father sends for him.  Immediately, Miguel thinks, “I’d been waiting for this moment ever since I was eight.  Could it be true this time, finally?  For once, I didn’t care about a birthday present.  If Papá’s note was true, my real life was finally beginning.  This was day number one.”

At his father’s direction, Miguel enlists the help of a local man, Don Clemente, who arranges for a coyote to take him across the border.  But Elena doesn’t want to be left behind on their abuelita’s rancho, and she follows Miguel on his journey, derailing his plans to cross the border with a coyote.  Soon, they find themselves being questioned and detailed by Mexican immigration officials – and then running for their lives across the desert.  They don’t know who they can trust or what will happen to them.  All they know is that they need to get across la línea at any cost.

Jaramillo, a first-time author, is an English as a Second Language teacher in a middle school in Salinas, California. She says, “More than 95 percent of my students are Mexican in origin.  Their parents work in the fields or packing sheds of the Salinas Valley.  Some of my students were born in the United States; other immigrated in elementary or middle school.”  By drawing from her own experiences and that of her students – and by integrating Spanish words and phrases throughout the book – Jaramillo reinforces the cultural authenticity of La Línea .  The School Library Journal recommends this book for grades five and up, and I can see this book easily used in a middle school or freshman classroom.

In the news recently, Arizona Governor Jan Brewer asserted that most illegal immigrants entering her state are being used to transport drugs across the border.  Following on the heels of Arizona Senate Bill 1070, her remarks were quickly denounced by experts as incorrect and downright racist.  In an Associated Press article published on MSNBC, Sen. Jesus Ramon Valdes, a member of the Mexican Senate’s northern border affairs commission, countered that, “Traditionally, migrants have always been needy, humble people who in good faith go looking for a way to better the lives of their families.”  While politicians may try to depict all Mexican immigrants as drug mules and criminals, La Línea offers readers a more realistic and nuanced perspective on the immigrant experience.

Image Credit: Square Fish Books, cover of La Línea.

In a few short days, the fall semester will begin.  I’m really excited to teach a graduate course, Curriculum and Instruction 632: Literature and Literacy.  It’s a required course for the Wisconsin K-12 reading license, and we’ll focus on how to foster adolescent literacy development and critical engagement through the use of young adult literature.

Everyone in class will read the follow YA lit:
Alexie, S. (2007). The absolutely true diary of a part-time Indian. New York: Little, Brown.
Collins, S. (2008). The hunger games. New York: Scholastic.
Jaramillo, A. (2008). La linea. New York: Square Fish.
McCormick, P. (2008). Sold. New York: Hyperion.
Peters, J.A. (2006). Luna. New York: Little, Brown.
Selznick, B. (2007). The invention of Hugo Cabret. New York: Scholastic.
Trueman, T. (2001). Stuck in neutral. New York: Harper.
Yang, G.L. (2006). American-born Chinese. New York: First Second.

I taught many of these books this spring in C&I 431: Young Adult Literature for Schools, but I added in three new books: La Linea, Hunger Games, and Hugo Cabret.  I had a really hard time choosing between the fabulous book Red Glass by Lisa Resau and La Linea; in the end, I went with La Linea but I think that it would be fascinating to teach both to a middle or high school class.

I’ve already blogged about my love for the Hunger Games, but I’m equally enamored with The Invention of Hugo Cabret (which is where the image above is taken from). It alternates between being only-images or only-print, and it’s fascinating to think about how to teach such a text. I’ve asked Danielle Kleijwegt, a UW graduate student and artist who is creating her own graphic novel, to talk to our class about deconstructing images, teaching visual literacy, and strategies for using picture books and graphic novels in the classroom.

Throughout the semester, we’ll have a couple other guest speakers, too. Loren Glasbrenner is a teacher at a middle school in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, and he will share his experiences with using literature circles. Also, Kim Stieber-White, a teacher at Evansville Middle School, will talk about her first-hand experience with book challenges and (attempted) censorship with Terry Trueman’s Stuck in Neutral. She also visited C&I 431 class this spring, and my students felt her visit was invaluable. Not only did she share key resources in justifying a book choice – including through the National Council of Teachers of English and the Cooperative Children’s Book Center – she also talked about how the challenge impacted her students and her pedagogy.

In addition to the eight books listed above, students will also participate in literature circles about the Holocaust by reading either the autobiography I Have Lived a Thousand Years or the historical fiction The Book Thief.  We’ll read part of Simone Schweber’s book Making Sense of the Holocaust, and talk about how to approach the Holocaust and other genocides though literature.  Finally, students will give a book talk on a recently published, award-winning book of their choice.

Each week’s young adult literature and required chapters or articles will either focus on a literary theme (such as immigration, sexuality, race and ethnicity, and so on) or a topic (including multiliteracies, new literacies, cultural authenticity, and more).  I really believe that undergraduate and graduate students need hands-on experience in engaging with these texts in innovative ways – and I’ve built in time to participate in literature circles, engage in small group activities, use web 2.0 tools, and much more into the class time.

I used to teach a science fiction course for high school students, and I’m always looking for great young adult science fiction.  My son Cole is now 10, and sci fi and fantasy are genres that really appeal to him too.  He’s worked his way through Orson Scott Card’s Ender series, Rick Riordan’s Lightning Thief series, the Chronicles of Narnia, and many more.

Over the winter, I read Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.  It’s the first in a trilogy, and the second book, Catching Fire is due out in September.  I couldn’t put it down, and finished it in a couple days – I then handed it off to Cole and he did the same.  (We also managed to get our hands on Catching Fire before its release, but we promised not to reveal anything!)  The book is narrated by 16 year old Katniss Everdeen, who lives in a post-apopcalytic United States.  Following a series of uprisings and disasters, the Capitol seized control.  Originally, there were 13 districts, but when the thirteenth district rebelled and was obliterated, the Capitol designed the Hunger Games as punishment for the remaining 12 districts.

Each year, one boy and one girl from each district is selected for the Hunger Games, a televised event that is set in an outdoor arena.  The winner of the Hunger Games is the only one left alive at the end – it’s a fight to the death where speed and strength are as important as cunning and intelligence.  When Kat’s younger sister, Primrose, is called to be a tribute, Kat immediately volunteers in her place.  Along with the other tribute from her district, Peeta Mellark, Kat then journeys to the Capitol.  Each district is known for its produce or industry, and District 12, located in Appalachia, is known for its coal mining.  Given that background, their Capitol attendants outfit Kat and Peeta in gorgeous flaming costumes.

Soon, Kat and Peeta have caught the attention of the audience – and of the Gamemakers, who manipulate the arena to put them in harm’s way.  The plot is complicated by Peeta’s on-air confession of love for Kat, which leaves the reader (and Kat) wondering if it’s a strategic move or a desperate confession on his part.  But if the Hunger Games leaves only one winner, then either Kat or Peeta must die.  Or can these “star-crossed lovers” outsmart the Gamekeepers and defy the Capitol?  Read it and find out.

When I asked Cole what appealed to him about this book, he noted the alternate reality setting and the action.  For my part, I loved that the book featured a strong female protagonist and that it brought up issues of government control, media bias, and human rights.  But I also find it fascinating how reading a book no longer involves a simple exchange between text and reader.

For instance, he publisher, Scholastic, has created an interactive site that features message boards, videos, and games, and Lionsgate has already acquired the rights to the film.  But what I think is really interesting is how fans themselves have found ways to interact with the characters and plot lines – as well as other fans.  They’ve created unofficial fan forums with discussions, fan art, and much more.  They’ve used YouTube to create cast lists and seek others’ input.  They’ve written hundreds of stories on FanFiction.net, offered feedback on each other’s work, and extended the story in ways the author never imagined.

As an English teacher, I spent years trying to get students to interact with books in this way.  But I learned that books that are too difficult or irrelevant to students’ lives won’t work… worksheets, vocabulary drills, and multiple choice tests won’t work either.  Literacy doesn’t just involve rote memorization or the recall of minute details – it involves truly interacting with the text, the characters, and the themes.  It involves critical thinking, hands-on engagement, and collaboration.  As teachers, we need to create environments in the classroom which allow for this.  Not only does it involve adopting new texts – and The Hunger Games is a great example – it involves cultivating new literacies and designing new affinity spaces.

I’m at the International Reading Association convention in Minneapolis this week.  It’s only Monday, but I’ve already had the opportunity to hear some phenomenal presentations from literacy and language scholars.  It’s so exciting to hear about the research that has shaped the field – and to see the new directions in which it is going.

I gave my talk today, entitled “Teaching Visual Literacy Using Hypertextual Books.”  (For a PDF of the handout, click here).  I highlighted four changes in children’s literature, and talked with the audience about how we “read” multiple modes of representation.  These changes include (1) Words that express meaning through typesetting, (2) Interactive narration, (3) Images that carry and expand meaning, and (4) Multiple perspectives in a single story.  My advisor, Dawnene Hassett, has worked extensively to identify the interactive and multimodal elements of children’s literature and to situate these changes in sociocultural theory and new literacies.

The presentation today highlighted the children’s books themselves, noted the relevant learning theories that support their use in the classroom, and showcased research in K-3 classrooms to that effect.  At the end, I wondered aloud what the future directions of such interactive stories will be.  With touch-sensitive platforms like interactive whiteboards becoming a staple in many classrooms, what does that mean for such literature?  Maybe it will look like the stories on Starfall.com – or like Inanimate Alice.  Or maybe we’re still trying to figure out how the medium is the message… and what that means for interactive, multimodal stories in the classroom.

We hear a lot about how our kids aren’t reading anymore.  Lured by social networking sites and videogames (which we don’t count as “real” reading), educators and parents alike lament how our children and teens don’t pick up books anymore.  Last year, a New York Times article touched on this subject, noting that,

“As teenagers’ scores on standardized reading tests have declined or stagnated, some argue that the hours spent prowling the Internet are the enemy of reading — diminishing literacy, wrecking attention spans and destroying a precious common culture that exists only through the reading of books. But others say the Internet has created a new kind of reading, one that schools and society should not discount.”

I wholeheartedly agree that educators need to understand (and teach!) the kind of visually-driven, nonlinear reading that occurs in online spaces.  But I also think that book reading is far from dead: we just need to give kids and teens something good to read.

When I taught high school, many of my students had never encountered a book that they found fascinating, engrossing, or thought-provoking.  It’s not just that they encountered a language arts curriculum that drew heavily from “the classics” – it’s that the texts were taught in a decontextualized, inaccessible way that made them feel unengaged or downright discouraged.

In the class that I’m teaching this semester, my preservice teachers have come up with a number of ways to integrate young adult literature into the curriculum.  Each class, we brainstorm how to teach the novels: pairing them with classics, using documentaries to introduce them, creating space for multimodal composition, and many more.

As Santoli and Wagner (2000) argue,

“Young adult literature can be a vehicle that allows teachers to present the same literary elements found in the classics while engaging adolescent students in stimulating classroom discussions and assignments.  Unlike classic literature, it can foster a desire to read.  Because it: a) employs the literary elements of the classics, b) engages adolescent students in analyzing literature along with themselves and their principles, and c) promotes and encourages lifelong reading habits.  Young adult literature deserves a valued and respected position in secondary language arts classrooms.”

Is that to say that I don’t think that we should teach the classics?  Of course not.  But do you know how many times I had a high school senior in my science fiction elective class exclaim in surprise, “Wow, I loved that book!  That’s the first book I’ve ever read all the way through in high school!”?  Far too many.  While we read Fahrenheit 451 and Brave New World, we also read Feed and Ender’s Game.

It’s so important that our students be given the opportunity to discovery what kinds of genres and narrative styles that they’re drawn to – the opportunity to become thoroughly engrossed in a character, a plot line, or a setting that they can’t put the book down.  As educators, if we can’t provide books to our students that accomplish that, I think that we need to ask ourselves who our curriculum is serving and who it is alienating – and at what price.