Prologue: Giroux the Giraffe

(and the Philosophical Underpinnings of Radical Change for Curriculum Design in the Children's Literature Classroom)

Chapter One: The Curriculum That Lived

The Metaphor

There was once a curriculum who lived on Children's Book Drive. This curriculum was not particularly special, nor was she particularly valued. Or so she thought. Little Lit255 was like most other curricula in the city: CCCS (some thought this stood for "Colorado Community College System," and others thought this stood for "Crazy, Crappy, Curricular State," but in truth, no one really knew anymore), in that it was stuck. It couldn't transfer anywhere! Unfortunately, everyone in CCCS thought that curricula who lived on Children's Book Drive were not as important as other curricula in the city, such as those who lived on Bio Boulevard or Literature Lane. Little Lit255 was about to get a change though -- a change in which everyone who loved the curriculum would see to it that Little Lit255 could transfer anywhere she wanted.

The Reality: We Can be better

As a literature discipline (LIT) for the Colorado Community College System, we have not been responsive to the needs of our communities, and to a lesser degree, our students -- but the biggest area in which we can improve is in our commitment to the discipline itself -- to the subject matter. Children's literature has a number of issues with respect to the curriculum, and what follows is a plan not only for addressing the curricular issues, but also for continued review of curriculum within the LIT discipline. The first step in this process follows: an examination of needs...through the lens of Chicken Soup for the Soul.

Chapter Two: Chicken Soup for the Curriculum Designer's Soul

Becoming a Disney Princess

I often assign a career analysis paper in my composition classes. The assignment is called, surprisingly enough, the “Career Analysis Paper.” I teach a standard college composition class, and we have students from all careers and of all ages. The assignment itself is not very interesting, and I always treated it as just a box to tick on the way to more interesting assignments, though admittedly, no paper in that class was very interesting.

That changed several years ago when Krystal walked through my classroom door.

She was just out of high school – a confused kid with no idea what she wanted to do with her life. The semester began, and she kept offering me everything but her assignments, and the excuses became really creative. I simply figured that she was blowing me off. But finally, on one Wednesday morning, when I was simply frustrated with trying again and again to get her to write her outline, I sat down with her and tried to figure out what was wrong. Almost immediately, she began to sob.

“Mr. Neely,” she said, “how can I analyze a career when I have no idea who I even am right now?” The issue was not that wasn’t taking my class seriously enough; rather, the issue was that she was taking the class too seriously. I had given her an assignment (and many others too) before I even knew what she needed as a student. As we talked that day and the next, it became clear that she had many dreams and desires, but that she couldn’t necessarily encapsulate them into one singular career.

“If you could do absolutely anything, what would it be?”

“I can’t tell you that, Mr. Neely,” she said. “It’s dumb.”

“Seriously,” I said. “Tell me. I promise I won’t laugh.”

“Okay,” she began, and she hesitated for a full minute or more. “Okay. I want to be a Disney Princess.” I looked at her straight in the eyes.

“Then that is what you should write about.”

Chapter Three: ABCs

Chapter Four: The Dance

Model of Curriculum Design

Chapter Five: Curricular Goals, Objectives, and Assessment