Since the 2019-2020 school year marks the 10th
Anniversary of this blog, on Fridays, I’m resurrecting and updating old posts
that sparked a lot of conversation or that still have a lot to offer people
teaching or writing nonfiction. Today’s essay, written by the uber-talented award-winning author Jess Keating, originally appeared on November 15, 2017.
As a writer of both
fiction and nonfiction, I experience a lot of variety when it comes to readers.
Some kids prefer stories and narrative, while others embrace facts and figures.
Both are equally valid, but as a society, we often send the message that stories
and storytelling are the key to connecting with others. How do we
connect with friends or share parts of ourselves? We tell stories. It’s
something we’ve been doing since the dawn of humanity.
Right?
But what about the kids
whose strengths don’t connect them like this?
When we portray
narrative as the most powerful way of connecting to each other, we’re leaving
out a lot of kids. To dig into this, we need to look at the
hidden benefits of expository nonfiction. To avoid generalizing kids and their
tastes, I’ll use myself as an example.
I was a “nonfiction”
kid. STEM-focused. Analytical. I loved facts and figures, and clear diagrams
labeling what something was, how it lived, and so on. Don’t get me wrong—I
loved stories (and still do!). But stories aren’t as easy to share, especially
when you’re learning the ins and outs of your social world. If you’ve ever seen
someone fumble the punch line of a joke (or done so yourself!), you know that
even short narratives have their dangers. Some kids intuitively grasp narrative
and become storytellers from a young age. But what about the rest?
In contrast, expository
nonfiction is easy to share. And when something is easy to share, it has
incredible social benefits.
Think of how you feel
when you’re attending a cocktail party, or some function where you don’t know a
lot of people, but want to make a good impression. That’s what it’s like every
day for kids, especially at school. The stakes are high. They want and need to
connect socially, but for those STEM-focused, “facts and figures” kids,
narrative is easy to botch. It can also require long stretches of time,
uninterrupted.
Yikes.
Enter expository
nonfiction, to save the day. Well crafted expository nonfiction is all
punch line:
“Did you know sea
cucumbers breathe out their butts?”
This is a fact I share
with many kids, and their response is instantaneous: they love it. But more than
that, it becomes immediately apparent that they want to share it. It’s
neat. It’s fun. It’s just edgy enough to sound cool. For those kids, this
simple, goofy fact is more than a fact: it’s social ammunition. It’s a doorway
to open a conversation, make an impression with another kid, or catapult to a
belly laugh with someone.
It’s a way to express
some part of themselves, or their personality, that’s handy, simple to
share, and extremely adaptable. Different kids will embrace different subjects,
and that’s perfect. There should be enough expository nonfiction to fit every
kid’s personality and interests.
By giving kids quality
expository nonfiction, we give them access to more than just facts: we give
them confidence. Confidence to start a discussion or join in on one.
Confidence to connect with someone who has a similar mindset. A solid tidbit
that embodies a kid’s personality can be just as engaging as a new outfit,
fancy shoes, or a well-timed story shared around the lunch table.
As a child, I felt a
rush of excitement when I learned some new fact or figure. That fact was mine.
I owned it. I couldn’t wait to share it, and more than that, I felt like I was
participating in real science, just by knowing something and passing it along.
It’s a remarkable feeling for a kid.
Confidence is great, but
what else? We’re also sending another important message when we share
expository nonfiction with students. We’re telling kids that facts alone can be
enough. No window dressing, no intros or poignant endings. We’re saying
that facts can be wondrous enough to be meaningful. Truth, at its core, is
more than enough and deserves our attention.
This might seem like a
small point, but consider that this is how many kids see the world. By not
focusing enough attention on expository nonfiction, are we tacitly telling kids
who connect with it that their strengths and perspectives don’t
matter?
By invalidating or
underestimating expository nonfiction, we also invalidate and underestimate the
kids that speak this language: the language of facts, figures,
statistics, and patterns. Every kid should feel like the lens through which
they see the world is valid, and better yet, exciting. Expository
nonfiction validates kids as seekers in their world, and encourages them
to pursue their goals (particularly in STEM fields). It shows kids that their
worldview is valuable, and just as worthy of attention and interest as
that of any other kid.
Another hidden benefit
of quality expository nonfiction lies in its essence: with it, we say that some
things are knowable. To an adult, this isn’t that big of a
deal. But think back to when you were a kid. How much of your life was really
knowable? With friend dramas, teachers, parents, difficult school subjects, and
the stressors of life, what could you depend on no matter what? Suddenly, a
solid truth feels like a hug.
Life can be tough and
uncertain for a lot of kids, and solid facts and figures can provide a foothold
in an otherwise rough climb. With STEM-focused expository nonfiction, we’re
showing kids that something can be trusted and learned through a reliable
method. Chimpanzees use tools. Earth orbits around the Sun. Every known
thing builds a picture of reality that can help stabilize a tumultuous inner
world.
Not all kids will relate
to this, but for those who do, there’s a quiet confidence to be found in
knowing how trees release oxygen for the rest of us to breathe. Expository
nonfiction can be a social tool, a validating perspective, and an emotional
balance.
I meet expository-loving
kids every day. Sometimes they’re quiet. Sometimes they’re class clowns. But
all of them deserve to feel like their strengths and world view are valuable.
Representation matters, in all facets of the word. By including expository
nonfiction on our bookshelves, we’re one step closer.
As a zoologist turned middle grade and picture
book author, Jess Keating has been sprayed by skunks, bitten by
crocodiles, and been a victim to the dreaded paper cut. She is the author of
the award-winning and quirky ‘World of Weird Animals’ series, which kicked off
with Pink is for Blobfish, the picture book biography Shark Lady, and
middle-grade novel series Elements of Genius. Jess has a Master’s of Science, a
love of nerdy documentaries, and a pile of books threatening to take over her
house.
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