I’ve always had a whiteboard in my office. It helps me process, think out loud, and work through what are sometimes half-formed ideas. I also like that it’s inviting. A teacher will come in to talk through something, and before long, they’re up at the board, sketching it out with me. The ideas build in real time, and because they’re out in the open, people feel part of the process. But most ideas, especially the ones worth chasing, need more than a whiteboard. They need focused time, shared language, and a little structure to take hold. Not everyone will see it right away, but giving people a chance to shape it early on helps.
Students are less likely to jump in when they see something on the board, but sometimes they do. I’ve had a few who couldn’t help but add a thought or ask a question, especially when it connects to their program. And because they’re students, they’ll sometimes draw something completely irrelevant like a smiley face, a random sketch. I leave those up, too. It tends to mean something to them to see it still there when they inevitably come back for something else. I ask their opinions as well, because at the heart of any of these ideas, whether they’re whiteboard sketches or full-blown plans, are students. That’s what’s behind what we are now referring to as CTE Reads: The Stories Behind the Skills.
There will be an assignment. Eventually. Something reflective but simple, an invitation to connect the reading to the student’s CTE program of study, their plans, or even just a moment that stood out. But the point isn’t to turn the shop into an English class. The point is to build a bridge between what students are learning with their hands and what they might discover through someone else’s story. We’re still figuring out what that looks like — what’s required, what’s optional, and how to make sure it works for all learners. This work will continue throughout the summer.
Earlier this week, I sat down with two of my teachers. Thoughtful, creative people who care deeply about their students. We talked through what CTE Reads could actually look like if we gave it room to grow. We kicked around everything from a teacher leading the whole class through one book, to weaving in a short reading and a quick activity each week. In later conversations, I found out that some teachers were already doing more than I realized, using articles and follow-up activities that fit naturally into their CTE programs of study. One of the things we kept coming back to was the need for a central place, somewhere the whole thing could live and be easy to access. That matters for students, so they can find it anytime. And it matters for teachers, who need a clear way to model and guide students through it. If we want every learner to have a good experience with CTE Reads, that means thinking about access, both in format and in content.
We need texts that offer choice, that can challenge students, and that leave room for scaffolds where they’re needed. This should also lead to future work with as a department, sharing strategies for helping students engage with text in meaningful ways, whether that’s chunking a longer read, framing the right questions, or connecting what they read to what they build, and vice versa. Like Da Vinci sketching machines in the margins of anatomy notes, the doing and the reading should feed each other. For me, the doing was writing. When I was working on my dissertation, my advisor would remind me constantly, “Patrick, marry the literature to your writing.” That stuck. And I think the same could apply here. The hands-on work and the reading should be in conversation, not living in separate lanes.
