JOURNAL OF ADOLESCENT & ADULT LITERACY 48:1 SEPTEMBER 2004 66 © 2004 INTERNATIONAL READING ASSOCIATION (pp. 66–69) doi:10.1598/JAAL.48.1.6 “Reading” Miss Moonbeam: Lessons learned from a mannequin Lori Norton-Meier Lori Atkins Goodson Norton-Meier is editor of the Media Literacy Department. Goodson teaches at Wamego Middle School in Wamego, Kansas. MEDIA LITERACY Miss Moonbeam, the eighth-grade language arts “student teacher” at a middle school in rural Kansas for her third consecutive year, stands in the corner of the classroom near the window. Commanding attention from students, teachers, and other visitors (and startling a few), her black hair is tied by pieces of purple yarn into two ponytails that fall onto her shoulders. Today, her attire includes an ankle-length denim skirt—pinned in the back (though it still sags from time to time) to fit her model-sized waist—and a school spirit T-shirt. Her accessories include a Kansas State University neck chain that holds a key to a motorcycle, an orange Hawaiian lei, pins that say “No. 1 Teacher” and “Read!”, and a pair of University of Kansas Jayhawk earrings. She’s also draped in a graduation cap and gown (one student has suggested it’s about time!) and metallic sunglasses (left by a former student). The wardrobe supports the idea that Miss Moonbeam is no ordinary student teacher. A mannequin purchased from a department store, Miss Moonbeam has been quietly helping guide the English and literature classes in the school for three years now. Her arms are bent at the wrist; her hands are palms up as if gesturing. She looks to her right, away from the window. On her left wrist hangs a purse. In her right hand (the one known to fall off from time to time) she carries a book—something that the students change fre- quently to support their interests. Today, it’s one of the books in the Lemony Snicket series. She stands amid a mountain of pillows the students use during silent reading time. Miss Moonbeam is a quiet woman—a little shy around the students, yet she’s always there for them. She’s had tricks played on her—in the summer, the custodians place her by the entry door of the school so passersby will think there’s someone on the premises. (We’re still waiting for that first police report that accuses Miss Moonbeam of breaking into the building.) Some students have brought wardrobe additions, while others have borrowed her ever-changing collec- tion of hats, necklaces, earrings, and glasses for special events around the school. They’ve offered to paint her nails and braid her hair. Custodians, from time to time, move her to the classroom door to give her “cooperating teacher” an extra surprise to start the school day. She’s been insult- ed by colleagues and substitute teachers who say she doesn’t belong in a school, and she’s been