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Chapter 2

PREREADING

Close reading has the potential of guiding students through analytical thinking, but the very nature of the strategy requires substantial teacher preparation. As a first step in the close reading process, students must answer a question and access background knowledge as preparation for a more in-depth reading. If a teacher asks her students to read deeply, she must have done it herself first. This is not to suggest that a teacher should read the text to establish one correct meaning, but it does mean instructors must be deeply familiar with the text to adequately guide students in close reading, including in the initial step of answering questions and accessing background knowledge. Teachers should carefully select the right text (and the right portion of that text) to meet students’ needs and abilities. Once the teacher is prepared for close reading, the students must be as well. They must be familiar with the close reading process before they begin it. The teacher must also design a prereading activity that aligns with the merits of the selected text. Then, the class can begin an effective close reading session. In the sections that follow, we consider the details of text selection, teacher preparation, student introduction to close reading, and prereading activities.

Text Selection

Choosing the correct text is an important consideration before bringing one into the classroom for close reading. This selection is more complex than it may appear at first because, while curricula are well-stocked with potential texts, not all of them are candidates for close reading. Indeed, some texts may not reveal much in close reading, while the complexity of others may frustrate beginning close readers.

There are a few technical factors that are important to consider when choosing a text.

• Student and teacher interest

• Level of complexity

• Type of text

• Passage length and purpose

Student and Teacher Interest

It is not always possible to choose a text that connects with student interests, but it does help to do so when possible, especially in the early stages of developing strong close readers. If students like the style and content of a text, they are likely to engage more as they discover the authorial moves, those choices an author intentionally makes in a text and on which we want our students to focus. If students can learn to closely read texts they enjoy, they can apply the skill to other texts and expand their ideas of what makes a text important and worthy of reading. There are many methods for discovering the interests of students and applying them to the text selection. Early in the school year, a student-background survey might provide a teacher with insights about the activities and interests of his students, and this can be invaluable information as he chooses the texts he will teach.

There are many types of background surveys. See figure 2.1, which exemplifies the types of questions that might be on a survey. Such surveys will reveal much more than the specific interests of students, and teachers can use them in many ways. However, in selecting texts that meet with student interests, the survey information can be invaluable.

Source: Marzano Research, 2016c.

Figure 2.1: Sample survey questions.

Visit marzanoresearch.com/classroomstrategies for a free reproducible version of this figure.

In addition to student interest, teacher interest is important when selecting a text. Like any person, teachers love certain texts, those filled with words that jump off the page because of their own close reading and deep engagement. Teachers who bring that enthusiasm to students’ interaction with a text are likely to engender some similar level of appreciation in their students. On the other hand, any teacher will have to use texts they find uninspiring, and some of those texts may be ones they are supposed to like. When possible (and it isn’t always possible), teachers should avoid selecting these texts for close reading because prejudices are likely to show through as they share the texts with students. As a personal example, I have a lifelong relationship with William Shakespeare, not only as a teacher but also as an actor and a director. When I teach using Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, Twelfth Night, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I know my enthusiasm for these master works as a whole and for the numerous short passages I have students close read helps them appreciate the superb level of writing. Yet I avoid teaching Julius Caesar, not because I think it is a flawed play, but because I know I would lack the enthusiasm to do it justice. Being careful about one’s own feelings in the text selection is important to providing students with the best close reading experience possible.

At the same time, all teachers will encounter situations where required texts fail to inspire them. There are reasons some texts are in the curriculum; at some point, someone saw the value of that text. Teachers might revisit a text with an eye toward finding ways to be enthusiastic about it (or at least appreciate it). Literature teachers might read some literary criticism of the text to help discover its value and support their own growing appreciation of it. Social studies teachers could review the historical moment of a text or read an expert analysis of its impact to perhaps change their opinions. Teachers of any subject area can converse with colleagues about ways to connect with a text. When dealing with an uninspiring text, teachers should do their best to prevent their biases from impacting students’ experiences with that work.

Level of Complexity

Although student interest is an important factor, so is the level of complexity. The text must appropriately challenge students to increase their reading and analytical abilities (McKeown, Beck, & Blake, 2009). Obviously, students just starting to learn the close reading process need to practice it with less challenging texts. As students improve in their abilities to read closely, as measured by a proficiency scale, teachers will want to present them with ever more challenging texts. (See chapter 6, page 87, for more about proficiency scales.)

An important consideration is the reading level of the text. Tradition sometimes dictates that certain texts are taught at a certain grade level, perhaps without due consideration of the text’s reading level. Here is an example of a challenging text traditionally taught in either seventh or eighth grade:

It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty will end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. —July 15, 1944 (Frank, 1947/1997, pp. 12–13)

This excerpt from Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl will be familiar to many. Though a traditional middle school text, its reading level is tenth grade (Flesch-Kincaid 10.2). Flesch-Kincaid reports readability at typical grade levels for U.S. public schools. This is not to say teachers shouldn’t teach the book in middle school, but it does demonstrate why many middle school students struggle to understand the text. When choosing texts, teachers should start with a clear understanding of students’ abilities and decide whether to connect with their current reading level or challenge them a bit to go beyond it. Further, it is important to examine texts traditionally taught at each grade level and understand the challenge each work represents to readers in each grade. It’s possible some texts should be taught at higher grade levels than they are, while others, though above the grade level, stay there for other important pedagogical reasons (such as preparing students for the next level of instruction). A good example is Shakespeare’s (1595/1997b) Romeo and Juliet. This text, traditionally taught to ninth graders, represents a reading level far beyond ninth grade. For example, the opening prologue speech, a Shakespearean sonnet, has a Flesch-Kincaid reading level of 14.2, which suggests its reading level is second-year college. Yet it is an important text to teach in the first year of high school to introduce students to the complexities of Shakespearean writing as preparation for other forms of that writing in the years ahead. Recognizing that the text is very challenging to ninth-grade readers would suggest to teachers that asking students to independently read and understand the entire play is probably beyond their abilities. Thus, we approach a complex text such as Romeo and Juliet in a different manner, often reading portions of it rather than the entire text.

At the same time, teachers should not be afraid of presenting students with complicated passages that challenge their understanding and appreciation of a writer’s craft. In close reading, the focus is on an author’s style and craft in addition to content. In a high-quality text, the author’s craft will support and inform the content. One may read a classical author for many reasons, and often those reasons are related to content—though style should not be ignored. Virginia Woolf, the amazing early–20th century British writer, is often seen as an important feminist movement writer, and rightly so, but one should not ignore the stylistic power of an author who can craft writing like this:

Strife, divisions, difference of opinion, prejudices twisted into the very fibre of being, oh, that they should begin so early, Mrs. Ramsay deplored. They were so critical, her children. They talked such nonsense. She went from the dining-room, holding James by the hand, since he would not go with the others. It seemed to her such nonsense—inventing differences, when people, heaven knows, were different enough without that. The real differences, she thought, standing by the drawing-room window, are enough, quite enough. She had in mind at the moment, rich and poor, high and low; the great in birth receiving from her, half grudgingly, some respect, for had she not in her veins the blood of that very noble, if slightly mythical, Italian house, whose daughters, scattered about English drawing-rooms in the nineteenth century, had lisped so charmingly, had stormed so wildly, and all her wit and her bearing and her temper came from them, and not from the sluggish English, or the cold Scotch; but more profoundly, she ruminated the other problem, of rich and poor, and the things she saw with her own eyes, weekly, daily, here or in London, when she visited this widow, or that struggling wife in person with a bag on her arm, and a note-book and pencil with which she wrote down in columns carefully ruled for the purpose wages and spendings, employment and unemployment, in the hope that thus she would cease to be a private woman whose charity was half a sop to her own indignation, half a relief to her own curiosity, and become what with her untrained mind she greatly admired, an investigator, elucidating the social problem. (Woolf, 1927/1989, pp. 8–9)

The complexities of this passage are enormous. On first reading, one notices rather readily the content, which describes the main character and her internal thoughts—first about her children, then the issue of her own social acceptance, and finally the larger social issues of the time. But that is not what is vital in this passage. Woolf’s ability to present layer upon layer of ideas folded one within another, represented through complex sentences that enfold clauses within clauses, challenges the reader and thus represents the complexity of the main character. One cannot ignore the quality of this writing; few writers can emulate it. While such a passage would be a challenge to even the most diligent high school seniors, it is something teachers should occasionally expose their students to so they can appreciate what good writing is. Such writing does not primarily entertain; it is artistically exquisite.

There are several methods for teachers to assess a text’s reading level and complexity level to match the needs of students. Reading level is a good starting point, and many textbook publishers provide this information in their catalogs and on their websites. Teachers can also establish the reading level of a text by typing (or copying and pasting) a segment of text into Microsoft Word. Microsoft Word, with its Spelling and Grammar tool, can help teachers assess many readability factors and help teachers judge whether a text is appropriate for their students. The following applies to Word 2016, but similar settings are available in most previous versions of the program. In Windows, start by accessing your File menu and then clicking Options. Under the section When Correcting for Spelling and Grammar, be sure to select Show Readability Statistics. Once in the document, click on the Review menu and click Spelling and Grammar. On a Mac, start by accessing Preferences. In the Spelling and Grammar section, select Show Readability Statistics. Then, in the Tools menu, click Spelling and Grammar. At the end of the spelling and grammar check, Word will display the Flesch-Kincaid level of the highlighted text. Another easy way to check a text’s reading level is with the website Readable.io (https://readable.io). Here you can type or copy and paste a section of text into the website and receive information about its reading level through several methods, including Flesch-Kincaid.

Text complexity is much more challenging to determine. Lexile or ATOS measurements can provide good estimates of text complexity, though they may not address all possible interpretations of a text. Thus, the best advice for teachers is to use their best judgment given the goals of the close reading session and their own experience with the text. If the text is at an appropriate reading level, teachers should determine whether the text provides students a rich experience in using authorial devices (we will discuss this more later) and presenting ideas. Making this determination is not an exact science, but a teacher’s experience of teaching a text is the best determinant of whether the text is at the correct level of complexity. If you are new to the content you’re teaching, seek out the advice of teachers who have taught the same texts for years.

Type of Text

Most academic standards (including the CCSS) look at texts in two categories: (1) literary and (2) informational. This distinction in the standards suggests a fundamental difference between these two kinds of texts. The reason for this distinction is to promote the teaching of informational texts in public school classrooms (Common Core State Standards Initiative, n.d.). This is a vitally important effort because standards-defined informational text is the most common form of text students encounter throughout their lives. That being said, the dichotomy between literary and informational texts is a false one.

Many people typically think of literature as works of creative writing, often fiction or poetry that evoke an emotional response from the reader. Literary texts use characterization, plot, and figurative language to great effect. Rhetoric, the art of persuasion, is the basis for informational text. That statement may be surprising, but any text presents a rhetorical stance, an inherent argument for the reader. For example, a text may appear to do nothing but inform, stating a series of facts. However, selecting those facts, choosing their presentation in a particular sequence, and selecting any textual structures presents an argument in favor of the information, and a careful reader can see them in that manner. When students analytically read an informational text, this can reveal authorial choices related to the author’s purpose and occasion, each of which are related to the creation of an argument and a reaction in the mind of the reader. Rhetoric is essentially the skill of argumentation, or the ability to use an appeal to build a strong and convincing argument. Already one can see the separate concepts and terminology typically associated with each category of texts. However, if one backs away from the dichotomy of informational and literary and sees a text as a text only, then one can perceive more commonality between these two categories. For example, what literary critics call figurative language (simply put, the ability to say one thing and mean at least two things) is really a rhetorical figure, a method used both in literary and informational texts. To illustrate, Robert Burns (1794) begins his famous poem with, “My love is like a red, red rose.” This is figurative language, specifically a simile, in which two dissimilar things—(1) his love and (2) a rose—are compared using the word like. Although literary critics call such devices figurative language, the larger category to which figurative language belongs is the category of rhetorical figures, and writers of argument make effective use of such structures. Many aspects of literary texts have their counterparts in informational texts. For example, there is much commonality, if not a one-to-one correspondence, between the basic elements of setting in a literary text and occasion in an informational one. For this reason, consider simplifying instruction in these areas, and when possible, approach teaching both the literary and informational elements together. That way, students can see these connections and apply similar techniques to both literary and informational texts immediately.

This may oppose the traditional approach of genre-based units (a unit on the short story and then a later unit on informational text in an English language arts classroom, or a narrative story in one unit and an essay in another unit in a physical education classroom). However, teaching the application of rhetorical elements to both kinds of texts reveals a new form of intertextual instruction, where students might read a short story on a topic and then an essay on the same general topic within a few days.

The advantage is that teachers can focus less on genre and more on text complexity as students develop close reading skills. Thus, a class can start with approachable, grade-level short stories, poems, and essays and then proceed to much more challenging texts without getting caught up in the type (genre) of text. This is more efficient in developing student skills and is wholly appropriate when the focus is on developing students’ close reading and interpretive skills.

This same approach can apply in content areas other than English language arts. For example, a social studies teacher examining the historical period in 18th century England might have students examine a satirical work of prose, such as Jonathan Swift’s (1729/1996) A Modest Proposal, as a text supporting the Irish rebellion against English landlords, as well as some of the satirical poetry on the same subject. In the same way, a science teacher might have students read an essay on environmental issues, and then turn to the more elegant prose of, for example, conservationist Rachel Carson, understanding that her work is still an informational text but filled with effective literary devices.

To be clear, we cannot teach the skill of close reading of informational text solely by providing students with literary texts, or the reverse. The skills of close reading are the same, regardless of which type of text a student reads. We must teach students all types of texts, and we must do a thorough job of preparing them to handle complex and challenging informational texts, because these are the primary texts they will encounter in postsecondary education and in life.

Passage Length and Purpose

Ideally, the passage should be rich and short. A close reading passage should offer a great deal from a small amount of text. For this reason, teachers must be aware that not everything is a candidate for close reading. Reading through an entire scene of a Shakespearean tragedy or even half a chapter of a grade-level novel is simply too much text for close reading, especially for students in lower secondary grades. It should be possible to provide the entire text for a close reading passage on a single side of an 8.5 × 11 sheet of paper. If the text requires multiple pages, consider shortening it; there is probably too much there to deal with effectively. The aim is for students to delve deeply into the text; the more text, the shallower the dig.

While it is true that different students will notice different things, the shorter the selection (within reason), the more likely there will be commonality among the students’ annotations. So, it is in the teacher’s hands to find that one passage, perhaps just a few sentences or a couple of paragraphs at most, that yields the most in terms of meaning, literary devices, argument development, or the focus of the lesson.

At the same time, it is occasionally necessary to use a passage that is much longer due to the nature of the study in a unit. It may be, for example, an important historical document that demands longer sections for analysis. An example of this appears in appendix B (page 107), which examines an excerpt from Thucydides’s (431–404 BCE/1972) History of the Peloponnesian War, specifically, Pericles’s Funeral Oration. This superb speech does not lend itself to short passages; it is so finely crafted that students must look at a longer-than-usual excerpt to see the way the author linked many elements of argument together. There are times when students should work with longer passages, but teachers must limit those occasions and be sure to provide adequate class time for them to go deeply into the longer passages.

As we attempt to determine a short, specific passage from a larger text as the subject of close reading, there are four general guidelines to follow.

1. Be sure the text is appropriate to the class level. Obviously, we want the reading level and complexity to be appropriate for the current overall abilities of the class.

2. The text should be relevant to the content of the lesson or unit. The lesson or unit may have a focus on a particular theme or literary device. The passage should be rich in this element.

3. Be sure that the length of the text fits its purpose. The purpose of the lesson may dictate how long the passage can be. If we’re looking for only an example or two of a particular device, then the passage can be substantially shorter than if we’re looking to determine the effect of multiple uses of a device.

4. Ensure that the style of the text fits its purpose. Different writing styles present different challenges to students. If the purpose of the lesson or unit is to focus on a specific, challenging style for analysis, then the style should match that purpose. If the purpose of the lesson or unit is to focus on a specific rhetorical device and its use, then the style should support (not challenge) the development of analysis of that skill.

The following is an example of how a teacher might select a short passage. Shakespeare’s (1595/1997b) Romeo and Juliet is standard fare in a ninth-grade English language arts classroom. As stated previously, it is impossible for students to close read an entire play, or even full scenes from a Shakespearean play, at this grade level. Assume a teacher has planned a three-week unit on Romeo and Juliet and will not be asking students to read every word of the play. Some of the less important scenes can be viewed on video in between readings of important scenes. In a three-week unit, the class might close read three or four passages. Which scenes the teacher chooses depends largely on the focus and purpose of the study of the play. First, the teacher identifies a list of potential scenes from which she will choose close reading passages. The four guidelines provided in the preceding list make it easier to identify potential passages. Some vital scenes that might contain close reading passages include the following.

• Act 1, scene 1 (the opening scene with the brawl in the street)

• Act 1, scene 4 (Mercutio’s Queen Mab speech)

• Act 2, scene 2 (the first long exchange between Romeo and Juliet)

• Act 3, scene 1 (the fight that causes Romeo to intervene)

• Act 3, scene 2 (Juliet’s “Gallop apace” speech)

• Act 5, scene 3 (the final scene, which includes the deaths of Romeo and Juliet)

Of course, there are many more scenes that might be added to this list. All or any of these would offer good selections for close reading. However, the teacher decides to look closer at act 1, scene 4, and particularly at Mercutio’s famous Queen Mab speech. In The Riverside Shakespeare (Evans & Tobin, 1997), the Queen Mab speech in act 1, scene 4 is forty-one lines long. Though it is possible to close read the entire speech, it is lengthy, so the teacher decides to select a shorter passage to ask students to analyze deeply. Each reader will bring a different perspective to the table that will color the interpretation of the elements (see the section Teacher Preparation). Considering the subject matter of the passage, the teacher identifies two reasons why the passage appears in the play as justification for having students consider the passage. One reason is that Shakespeare uses this passage to develop the character of Mercutio, a friend of Romeo’s who is easily drawn into excess, spirit, and anger, thus aligning with the meaning of his name as one who is changeable. Another reason for the speech is to comment on the nature of dreams, which both Romeo and Mercutio claim they have experienced recently in the scene. In the speech, Mercutio supports his earlier claim, “Dreamers often lie.” He initially wishes to make fun of Romeo’s intense sadness over the loss of his first love in the play, Rosaline. Over the course of the speech, Mercutio becomes quickly agitated, starting by kidding Romeo about the influence of the fairies in his dream and ending by being filled with anger at the power of dreams to unmask hidden emotions in many people.

To choose one piece of this speech, the teacher starts by considering the academic purpose of asking students to close read the speech. If the purpose is to focus on Shakespeare’s ability to quickly and effectively develop imagery in his poetry, the first section describing how Queen Mab arrives would be a good candidate. If the focus is on the mercurial nature of Mercutio and tracking the changes in his emotions across the speech, the second half (when he begins to work himself into agitation) would be a good candidate. The teacher could also use the checklists later in the chapter (pages 26–27) to help determine the right focus.

Assume the teacher wants to focus on Shakespeare’s abilities to use imagery. She first narrows the long speech into the section that deals specifically with that developing imagery, lines 1–17:

MERCUTIO

O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.

She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes

In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

On the forefinger of an alderman,

Drawn with a team of little atomi

Over men’s noses as they lie asleep.

Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,

Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,

Time out a’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.

Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs,

The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,

Her traces of the smallest spider web,

Her collars of the moonshine’s wat’ry beams,

Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,

Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,

Not half so big as a round little worm

Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid.

(Shakespeare, 1595/1997b, p. 1111)

This would make a fine text for close reading. However, a teacher might decide to focus students’ attention on an even narrower section. This would require and enable them to look very closely at a short piece of text. The following is an example of an imagery-filled segment of the previous selection: