From the time of Gregorian Chants to the origination of the blues, lyrics have spread messages and served as oral language foundations for cultures for thousands of years, across the globe. Music from “Horace the Camel” to “Hey Mr. Tally Man” have been staples of music class in primary grades. By the intermediate grades, lyrics and music seem to start vanishing from instruction.

p: Ashley Rose via photopin cc

Yet lyrics play such an integral part as children transition to independent readers. They are immersed in lyrics via YouTube, iTunes, and American Idol (what ever happened to the Walkman?). Lyrics since the advent of pop music have consistently resonated with listeners. From lyrics inserted into love notes (authentic writing) to roadside tragedies (you know, the mix CDs that are flung out the car window after a breakup), students up through adulthood are actively trying to capture the messages contained within.

I hear teachers lament the loss of oral language. Language transforms and language is often coded. Lyrics (good lyrics) are always coded. Isn't that why people insert lyrics into love letters—to give the recipient something to think about, or woo them with (someone else’s) eloquent writing? What about the blues? Or country? How many songs do we sing out loud, expressing heartache, depression, or courage?

Lyrics contain the words, the language, we look for to express our feelings. When we connect to the lyrics, our communication becomes clearer, more expressive.

Music and lyrics deserve (re)consideration in the classroom. The right song, or CD, with the right purpose can take a learner miles. Linking short text lyrics to literature, be it chapter books or short stories, builds schema and creates curiosity. Using lyrics from Paul Kennerley's album WHITE MANSIONS is particularly useful when dealing with the Civil War; it can help teach concepts such as states’ rights and perspectives. Provide students with lyrics, read the song, and practice the “Fab Four” (Oczkus, 2010) strategies before discussing potential meaning locked within the text. After establishing working background knowledge, engage in shared reading with primary and secondary sources. From these in-class readings, student will discover answers to their questions, clarify interpretations, and gain deeper meaning behind historical concepts, such as the “Old South” or class structure.

Songs do not need to make perfect alignments to books. Some lines should be ambiguous or unrelated. This only helps the reader sort relevant information or invites them to ponder alternate perspectives. In a sense, when considering text-dependent questions or close reading, lyrics steer learners away from the “right there” question/answer and encourages synthesis of multiple texts and schema because lyrics do not outright explain ideas, like a text might. Allowing student to engage in such “out-of-the-box” thinking encourages creativity and widens comprehension.

Using lyrics in isolation works, too, depending on purpose. I prefer to model and practice reciprocal teaching with lyrics, particularly as a scaffold into content studies or theme-based instruction. If you use “Cherokee” by the famed hair-band Europe to introduce the Trail of Tears, students obtain the gist of the historical event and generate questions that will propel them into nonfiction reading. More specifically, students can glean from the lyrics that Cherokees were forced from their homes and moved on to reservations. They’ll likely ask questions such as “What promises were lies?” and “What does walked for many moons mean?” Encourage students to look and locate material that discusses the tumultuous relationship between the US Government and the Native Americans during the 1600–1800s, as part of in-class and independent readings. You may also invite kids to consider the time span of the march and the figurative meaning of “many moons”—a great invitation to literature discussions.

As Common Core challenges us to bring short text into the classroom, I find lyrics allows us to use short and complex text to help students acquire reading skills and motivate them to read “new” or “interesting” material.

Justin Stygles is a fifth/sixth grade language arts/humanities teacher in Norway, ME. He is an avid music fan an regularly uses lyrics to teacher literacy skills and comprehension in class. Tweet him at @JustinStygles (#closereadinglyrics).



Using Music to Inspire Young Writers

Use Movement and Music to Improve Reading Instruction

Wendy Mass is the NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author of THE CANDYMAKERS, the ALA Schneider Family Award winner A MANGO-SHAPED SPACE, LEAP DAY, JEREMY FINK AND THE MEANING OF LIFE, HEAVEN LOOKS A LOT LIKE THE MALL, and EVERY SOUL A STAR. Her most recent novel, PI IN THE SKY, was released earlier this week. Wendy lives in New Jersey with her husband and their twins. Her website is www.wendymass.com.

The protagonist of PI IN THE SKY, Joss, exists in dark matter and joins Annika in trying to put Earth back in the space/time continuum. This instantly gets into some complicated astrophysics. What was your scientific background before this novel and how much research was required?

Some people idolize movie stars or rock stars. I idolize scientists. I hang on their every word. Ever since I was a kid I’ve been fascinated by how things work, and why things are the way they are. This interest extends from the earth and how it can sustain life, all the way to wanting to know what’s going on at the far reaches of the ever-expanding universe.

Besides one honors chemistry class in high school (where I mostly copied the answers from my lab partner…shh), and an astronomy class in college where I only got an “A” because the teacher graded on a curve, I haven’t had any formal education in the sciences. But I can research the heck out of a topic, and that’s what I did for PI IN THE SKY. I wanted to know everything, from soup to nuts. I started by re-reading A SHORT HISTORY OF NEARLY EVERYTHING by the amazing Bill Bryson, which I had read while researching JEREMY FINK AND THE MEANING OF LIFE. I then gobbled up pretty much any book in my local library system that presented the fields of physics, astrophysics, astronomy, chemistry, and biology in a way that my liberal-arts brain could understand. I watched documentaries, I attended lectures, I contacted scientists online and asked them questions. Eventually I felt qualified enough to build a fictional story around real scientific knowledge.

Humor abounds in PI IN THE SKY, but you’ve also included quotes from scientific heavyweights like Stephen Hawking and Carl Sagan. How did you manage to have so much fun while making space for these major figures (pun intended)?

After I’d done the bulk of the research, I pulled out about 25 quotes from various scientists that truly fascinated me. I put them all on Post-It notes, and then kept rearranging them on my bedroom floor, hoping they would help me organize a plotline. My husband came in at one point and said, “Oh, so you’re planning on putting those quotes at the start of each chapter. Cool.” And I looked down and realized that of course these quotes had to go into the book. I think it gives the book a real structure, and explains these scientific concepts in a way I never could. Thanks, hubby!

As for the humor, I think the wackiness of the story itself sets the stage for it automatically. And scientists—at least the ones who have become public figures—are generally a wacky, funny bunch, so it was easy to feed off of their energy.

Many reviewers noted that they were first introduced to the sensory condition of “synesthesia” in your award-winning novel, A MANGO-SHAPED SPACE, which recently celebrated 10 years in publication. What fresh facts about the universe might a reader discover in PI IN THE SKY?

I know how much I learned while writing [PI IN THE SKY] (a ton), and if the reader comes away with even a fraction of that, I’ll be thrilled. My hope is that it leads them to explore aspects of the story later on, like synesthesia did in MANGO. There are so many concepts in this book—dark matter, wormholes, evolution of planets, stars, galaxies, life on other planets—to name just a few, so it depends on what strikes that particular reader.

You’ve said that you find a topic (i.e., space, synesthesia, candy) that interests you and then build the story around it. What are some of the benefits of starting with a topic rather than a character or plot?

Starting with a topic allows me to play around until I find the best type of character and plot to really breathe life into the topic. I have to make sure the topic doesn’t overshadow the character, though, since it has to become the character’s story that the reader cares about. I spend a lot of time outlining the character first, before plotting out the book, to make sure they feel real. Doing it in this order makes it easier for me to put it all together.

When asked why you write middle-grade novels, you said that “everyone has a voice in his or her head that stops at a certain age. With me that age is around twelve or thirteen.” How did you discover this?

Basically whenever I’ve tried to write stories for “grown ups,” the character still sounds 13 even when they’re 30. The trials and tribulations of adults don’t interest me in the same way. I guess because I’m stuck living them!

Plus, deep down, I think adults still feel like teenagers inside, like we’re trapped inside this adult life and have to pretend we know what it means to be a grown up.

Or maybe that’s just me!



5 Questions With… Jennifer Berne (ON A BEAM OF LIGHT)

Science All Around Us! Book Reviews

I know how reluctant teens can be to immerse themselves in history because I was one of them (perhaps surprising to admit for an author of historical fiction!). In the Scottish education system, at around 13 years old you’re given the choice of studying either geography or history. I chose geography. Why? Because history seemed irrelevant and stuffy—date-laden text illustrated with grainy photographs. The curriculum itself felt dusty and uninspired: coal mining and the industrial revolution, the First World War and so on. It wasn’t for me…or so I thought.

p: Xavier Donat via photopin cc

Even though I shied away from history lessons in school, I did love the idea of time travel when I was young. As a child my parents took our family to Scottish castles and country houses in the way that a North American kid might visit national parks. These castles have rooms preserved as they would have been used at the time, containing furniture, fabrics, clothes and objects from everyday life. Experiencing these details, I wondered how a girl my age might live as a Laird’s daughter, playing piano in the music room or as a scullery maid toiling in the kitchens. That was when history was fascinating for me— when my senses and my imagination were engaged.

My historical novel, BELLE EPOQUE, is set in Paris the year the Eiffel tower was under construction (1888-89). I was inspired to write the book when I read a short story by Emile Zola. “Les Repoussoirs” (“Rentafoil” in English) is about an agency of unattractive women rented out as accessories to rich socialites to make them appear more attractive by comparison. It wasn’t my intention to write a novel set in turn of the century Paris. Rather, it was my desire to know what it felt like to be an ugly girl for hire that led me to write the story. I had a visceral reaction to the Zola tale, and couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to be in the shoes of one such beauty foil—it was the “what if” moment that led me to write a novel.

The connection I made with the historical context of the Eiffel tower came later. I knew I wanted to set the book during la belle époque. Aside from the fitting irony of the name—the age of beauty—it was a time of peace, prosperity, and a blossoming in art, music, and technology. But as I researched more about the period I was surprised to learn just how unpopular Eiffel’s (now infamous) tower was at the time. Considered a monstrosity, an eyesore, I realized it was the perfect metaphor for my main character, Maude. Unlike the rest of Paris, she is impressed by Eiffel’s iron construction, and finds some comfort in its unique appearance. “Maybe something unrefined can also be beautiful,” she reflects.

“Only connect,” said E.M. Forster in his novel HOWARD’S END. That’s been my mantra towards fiction writing in general, but I think it resonates in particular for historical fiction. Thinking back on my process for creating BELLE EPOQUE, I found my character before I discovered the world events framing her story. And here lies the key to making history come alive—the human connection. As a writer, if my interest is piqued when I discover the person (real or fictitious) behind historical events, this is the same for young readers.

To write a historical novel, the writer’s task is to make history breathe, to make it feel tangible—it’s a feat of world building. In researching BELLE EPOQUE, I brought history to life in different ways—through art, music, novels, poetry, photography, and even food. I researched facts about 1889 French society, of course, but my Paris of 1889 is also the Paris of my imagination. And I was inspired by everything from period film scores to Toulouse Lautrec’s poster art.

I made many discoveries during the process of writing a novel set at the turn of the century, but what fascinated me most in comparing life then and now, weren’t the stark differences in technology, class divides, or gender inequalities—but the similarities to our present world. The experience my main character, Maude, goes through is so resonant for teens today—particularly girls. Who manages to escape adolescence without feeling ostracized at some point?

Paris was a society obsessed with beauty, with an explosion of advertising and self-improvement where women were encouraged to attain some impossible physical ideal. What delighted me in writing the novel was when I could draw a parallel between our world and that of belle époque Paris. What is history, then, if not a lens through which to see ourselves? Like science fiction, it is our world yet different. We engage with history when we recognize ourselves.

I write what I’m curious about. And I think teens will devour historical fiction (and history lessons) if their curiosity is peaked and their imaginations are engaged—and most of all, if they can see themselves reflected in the past.

Elizabeth Ross studied French and film studies at university in Scotland. She lives in Los Angeles, California, where, when she isn’t writing, she edits feature films. Her debut novel, BELLE EPOQUE (Delacorte, 2013) was published earlier this week. You can visit her at www.elizabethrossbooks.com and follow her on Twitter @RossElizabeth.



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