Recently, I had the opportunity to meet with the classroom teacher of a student of mine, who I’ll call Unicorn. Unicorn is an apt name because she is one of those students who must have been formed from the stuff of teachers’ dreams. Each time you interact with Unicorn, her infectious enthusiasm for learning, despite the subject matter having a history of being less than forgiving, is a rare and precious find. Unicorn’s teacher was equally eager to help our shared student. We both recognized the tremendously hard work Unicorn puts forth and wanted to see her soar. I spent an hour with this teacher and in that time was able to give her some brief basics of Structured Word Inquiry and how she could help further the work I have been doing with Unicorn in the classroom.
In lieu of a classroom spelling test, Unicorn’s teacher had the great idea to give her an index card box labeled “Unicorn’s Magic Spelling Box” where she could collect her mastered words in the contents of the box. The teacher shared this idea with me and I immediately felt awry with the idea of mastery. I knew that Unicorn’s teacher is a lovely person who is working in creative ways to help Unicorn succeed. I knew that for the ten years I spent teaching in the classroom that I, too, have used the word mastery countless times. Yet I couldn’t shake the weight of the word and the implications it has had on dyslexics (like myself) as well as humanity as a whole.
As you could predict, the word mastery has a ghastly history. It comes from late Old English mægester meaning “a man having control or authority over a place; a teacher or tutor of children” (as referenced by etymonline). As Douglas Harper writes, “In the broadest sense, ‘one who has power to control, use, or dispose (of something or some quality) at will.’” And in it’s darkest hours has been used with a sense of “owner of a living creature” (dog, horse, slave) in the 1700’s, only to rear its ugly head again in the 1930’s, having the sense of a “master race.”
Although I am certain that educators do not use the word master in the sense that it has been given in its darkest days, even the sentiment that one has authority over orthographic representation is a sentiment that I find unsettling. Too often, we put pressure on our dyslexics to perform, or ‘demonstrate mastery’ without allowing space for the dyslexic experience. Part of being dyslexic is making spelling mistakes, even when we've studied the word before. For most, if not all, dyslexics, spelling is skill that comes and goes depending on the cognitive load you’re carrying. Just ask any dyslexic how their spelling has been throughout this pandemic, I’d bet you $10 they’d say it has gotten worse. Spelling is something that shines and then fades, but the understanding, the picture, the history of words and the story of humanity…that will always be there.
What if instead of focusing on being the know-it-all speller with never a spelling blunder, we shifted to working towards understanding our language? How does it work, where did it come from and, what are its relatives? What if instead of reaching towards mastery of spelling, we worked to build a reverence for our language that leaves us wanting to learn more? I saved a quote sent to me from a former student’s mom, as we were preparing for our final session before she went off to college. Her mom writes, “Whatever path she takes in life, I know she will now be successful. She loves words!” What a powerful sentiment, “She loves words!” Not, she has yet to encounter a word she can’t spell. Not, she has mastered an arbitrary list of 12th grade spelling words. Not, she is magically no longer dyslexic and can spell all the things! No. Loving words, loving the richness of our language. This love doesn’t come from mastery, but instead a respect and understanding of the humanity, and at times inhumanity, of our language.
After receiving an email from Unicorn’s teacher about her spelling box idea, I wrote:
“In Structured Word Inquiry we say, 'you can't step in the same river twice.' Sometimes when we revisit a word family, we discover something new about it that we hadn't noticed before. It's completely normal for (Unicorn) to revisit word families that might be in the box. Instead of saying mastered I like to say that we have our picture*. We dyslexics are very visual people, and to have our picture of a word family means that we understand the base and how the base can be used to form words in the family. Having your picture is far more expansive than knowing how to spell one word. It's richer and more fulfilling; it’s the difference between knowing and understanding.”
*Shout out to the wonderful Emily O’Connor who first introduced the idea of ‘having your picture’ to me. Big love.