While still thinking about the integrity of authentic choices from yesterday, I remembered Nathan. Always an avid reader, he discovered the Hardy Boys books in fourth grade. They were exactly the right thing for him. They guaranteed a particular kind of story, he liked the constancy in the cast of characters--they felt like people he would enjoy knowing, he loved the blend of mystery and adventure, and he sure was glad there were lots of those books!
When he had read a couple of them, he confided to me that he had set himself a goal: he planned to read the entire series, in order. His face was bright with knowledge of an accomplishment; based on his liking of what he'd read, and the number of books in the series, he had an insight. He had discovered the concept of scope, one of what Eleanor Duckworth would call 'wonderful ideas.' He had been inspired by the thought of learning all there was to know about a subject. He, Nathan, would know everything about the Hardy Boys mysteries.
That day he borrowed the next books in the series with some awareness of ceremony. And he was constant. During each library period he would return a pair of books and take out the next two. From time to time there were some difficulties when the next in sequence had been borrowed by someone else. To deal with this, he amended his goal. He allowed that if one in the sequence was out, he could advance to the following title, catching up when the missing book became available. Occasionally he added another novel or two to his borrowing pattern. Sometimes it was for book reports, at other times 'just because.' But to me he seemed a little hesitant, as if he believed he was undermining his goal in some way, or might be seen to be slackening his commitment.
And so it went. Fourth grade. Fifth grade. At some point toward the middle of that year, he came over to talk. "I'm stopping here," he said of his progress. "I figured out that the Hardy Boys books are all the same story, even though the names and mysteries are different." When I asked him to explain further, he drew me a chart.
Using a timeline approach, he sketched out the basic formula for the basic Hardy Boys' plot. The book would open with an everyday event in the life of Frank and Joe Hardy. They would happen upon something that caught their interest. An event would occur casting a more questionable light on whatever it was that they found. Investigation would follow, revealing a hidden problem. A number of suspicious events would occur. They would discover a bad guy who would accidentally reveal some additional information. There would be an attempt at solving the problem which would fail. Joe and Frank would have to improvise a new plan or enlist someone new. A mighty struggle would then occur between Joe and Frank and the bad guy(s). Somehow the Hardy Boys would gain the upper hand and would prevail, bringing justice to the situation.
When he had finished his explanation, I could see Nathan's disappointment. The Hardy Boys had let him down. They had not remained the bringers of exciting adventure and daring that he had expected. When he wryly said that he could write a Hardy Boys book, I answered that he certainly could. He had absolutely figured out how the books were designed and written. Moreover he had every reason to be proud of himself: he understood the entire series, even without reading to the end.
And now thinking back on it, I imagine all the things that might have kept him from this vast understanding. What if an adult had discouraged him from his goal? What if he hadn't had the determination? What if a well-meaning person had told him not to waste his time, or had forbidden him from continuing? Had they preempted his use of his free time in pursuit of his goal, would he have come to such a conclusion? It goes back to one of those questions I mentioned yesterday, "How could the book have been better?" That fundamental question, if answered by the student, is the one that assists him or her in becoming a better chooser. Learning to choose has to include such helpful missteps, if we are to grow. It is the pinch of a too-small decision that prompts us to break out of it, to quit it, or to try a better way.
I thank the fictive Franklin W. Dixon for what he gave Nathan at the age of ten. While Nathan's disappointment didn't stop his habit of voracious reading, it did give him several gifts. Though Dixon's work was not a field worthy of Nathan's dedication, I do know it sharpened his ability to choose--he made the choice to abandon his earlier goal for the right reasons. Dixon's work also gave Nathan the impetus to generate a big plan. Ultimately that plan allowed him to recognize a colossal pattern and become a big-picture thinker. That's no small potatoes for a formula book.
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