It happens to me every year—and every year, in some form or another, I give in to it. The recklessness of spring.
In high school, I ditched classes and drove to the city. In college I skipped classes with two boys – one who’d be my husband and another who’d be the best man in our wedding – and went to Reed’s Lake where we wondered if the melting ice would hold us as we walked on it. Spring sneaks into my windows these days, and I think about taking off work, buying flowers, or walking alongside the Huron River during lunch and thinking about this new place I live in and barely know a thing about.
Lately, I’ve been curious if recklessness itself can be used to learn, or, perhaps more radically, if recklessness is in fact needed to learn. That’s the thought I had on a windy Thursday afternoon as I sat considering what story to read to the classes that come see me in the library where I work.
I was sitting at a table under the giant sky roof that, in the afternoon fills this spot with so much sun it is sometimes difficult to see words on the page. I put my hand on my temple to create a shadow that dulls the shine so I can read. I love sitting here because the sun warms my shoulders and neck, and from every angle I see stories. I’m surrounded by possibility.
That afternoon, I wanted to shake things up. Get the kids moving, and smiling. That’s when I thought of baseball. I went to the catalogue, and looked up all the baseball books that were in the library. I pulled them from the shelves, and decided on The Bat Boy and His Violin, by Gavin Curtis. It’s a story about a boy who helped a baseball team win games by playing his violin in the dugout. You’d have to be a bit reckless to do that, don’t you think?
Sight Word Baseball
I made four bases and stuck them around the library, then wrote the words from the book on cards and labeled them, “first base,” “second base,” etc. Thus, “Sight Word Baseball” was born. If a student read the word correctly, she’d get to run to that base.
I have a half an hour with my classes, and that’s including time to look for and check out titles, so I decided to only use the six words from the book. However, this is a game you could play to practice grade-level sight words and spelling words, and even comprehension and analysis questions for older grades. Middle School students would love this game.
Reginald, that’s the boy in the story, wants to play his violin. He’s not interested in baseball. His father, who is the coach for The Dukes, strongly suggests Reginald be his bat boy, promising him his own violin concert in their living room instead of the church basement. Reginald agrees, and makes several mistakes during the first game. His father tells him to take a break and “play that fiddle for a spell,” and Reginald, feeling sad, plays “Swan Lake” to match that feeling. The baseball players love it, and so does his father, so he keeps playing, and suddenly home runs are being hit as Mozart and Bach sound in the summer air.
A lot can go wrong when we’re reckless with our gifts. People could laugh. They could say “What are you thinking?” They could get angry. Mistakes could be made. In my case, I worried the students would get rowdy, or frustrated because maybe the words would be too hard. I worried the teachers would say this was a stupid idea; that this wasn’t how the other librarian did it. These concerns though, are like running around with spring on a day it’s not supposed to be here and asking, “How long are you staying?” This visit is a gift. Use it without worry about how long it’ll stay, or when it will come back. Sit in the dugout with the big leaguers, make something that springs from how you’re feeling, and see what happens.
“Are you ready?” I asked a wide-eyed student standing next to me.
“I’m ready,” she said.
I revealed his and she stared at it, wondering, while her whole class was silent.
“What sound does the h make?” I whispered.
“Hh,” she said.
“Good job!” I covered the h with my thumb and asked, “What word do i and s make?”
“Is,” she said.
I pulled my thumb off of the i and the s.
“What do you have?”
“His?” she said quietly. “His,” she said again, a bit louder. “HIS!” she jumped up, throwing her hands in the air.
Off she went, rounding the bases while her classmates cheered.
“Me next!”
“Pick me!”
“I can do it!”
And they could. And I could. And spring shined in at every window, reckless.
Photo by Vicki C, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.
This book not only provides a delightful introduction to the letter Bb, and the sound it makes, but loads of other literacy skills including exposure and repeated practice with high-frequency words, games to play, and guidance for grown-ups that is grounded, humorous, relaxed, and supportive. The illustrations will bring lots of smiles, and give lots of cues, all along the way! I can’t wait to send this book to the beginning readers in my life!
—Donna Z. Falcone, early childhood educator
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Sandra Heska King says
My word, Callie. You know how to tell a story. And that this has baseball in it makes it even better. I’m guessing those kids look forward to coming to see you.
Favorites:
if recklessness is in fact needed to learn
“A lot can go wrong when we’re reckless with our gifts.” (A lot can go right, too.)
“And spring shined in at every window, reckless.”
Callie Feyen says
Thank you, Sandra. I figured you can’t go wrong with a baseball story, and this one is great. I actually had no idea of the history behind the story.
That last line with spring recklessly shining is a good one, isn’t it? That’s L.L Barkat’s line. When I first sent this her way, she sent it back with that last sentence and I got the shivers. 🙂 Hooray for phenomenal editors.
Bethany R. says
What a beautiful piece. Glad you let yourself shake things up a bit—sounds like you made your own story in the library. (My kids would love this.)
Callie Feyen says
Thanks, Bethany. Yes, a lot has needed to be shaken up since about August of 2016 (maybe even before that), and I’m finding a lot of good stories in this way of reckless living. 🙂
Jody Collins says
I did that with basketball when I taught 2nd grade (my favorite year). We wadded up paper into balls and the kids got to toss them into a basket when they spelled the words correctly. They got as many tries as they needed since, as you and I know, sight words make absolutely no sense in the way they sound.
Fun post…..
Callie Feyen says
What fun! I used to play that with my middle school students. Nothing like throwing paper ON PURPOSE in the room. 🙂
Sonya says
This is great Callie. The recklessness necessary to learn, to teach, to use our gifts. Thank you.
Callie Feyen says
Thanks for reading, Sonya!
Donna says
Ah Spring! Three cheers for baseball fever and reckless risks! I’ll bet Library time is their favorite part of school!
Callie Feyen says
That’s so kind. Thank you, Donna!