Jan
29
Kicking and Screaming
January 29, 2013 | Tagged kobrant, learning, reading | 5 Comments
How did I learn to read? I think the title of this blog post pretty much says it all. When I was a child, I hated learning to read. The combinations of all those different letters would just swirl around in my mind until I grew dizzy from the effort of trying to make sense of them. Sure, preschool was easy. You were only expected to know the first letter of your name and you could just improvise with finger-painting for the rest. Kindergarten, though, that was the big league. That was where you learned just what those letters meant when jumbled together. And I was none too happy about being forced to learn that.
Growing up, I had always been fond of stories. I was five, though, I had it easy. My parents would read books to me while I sat on their laps and stared at the pictures. If there was ever a word that flashed across the television screen, I could just ask my older brother to read it for me. Even when I grew older and wanted to create stories of my own, I would simply dictate them to my mother and then illustrate them myself. I did not see the need to learn how to read when I could get other people to do it for me. Why ruin a good thing?
In kindergarten class, I dutifully learned how to shape my letters along with my peers. Yet, my parents wanted me to do something more. Every night before I went to sleep, my father would summon me to over to him. “Read with me,” he would say, but what he really meant was “Read for me,” which had been my mantra up until then. All my life, I had been demanding that others read for me. I had wanted the information that these letters unlocked, but did not want to put in any effort to uncover this information myself. My father just ignored my whining. He made me read every night, helping me to sound out the words when I was too frustrated to continue. I am not really sure when those nightly reading sessions became less of a chore and more of a joy. But now seventeen years later, looking at my waist-high stack of books to be read, I think this is one instance where I can say that my father was right.
Comments
5 Comments so far
Have you shared this post with your dad, Taylor?
There’s such a nice arc in this wry post from the involvement of the reader (the second-person “you,” which lightens your tone a bit) to the more personal, “I”-centered reflection on your parallel relationships with reading and your father. Subtle work.
I personally enjoyed reading your post because it reminded me of my youngest brother’s experience with reading. Being the youngest of four children, he depended upon his elders for every little thing. My mother used to say he would eventually mature and realize that, one day, his responsibilities would be his own, including the heavy amount of reading assignments still to come.
Around eighth grade, he took the reigns of his academic career and stopped asking for anyone’s help with schoolwork. In this context, I think of literacy as adaptation and your post made my reflection upon my younger brother’s academic growth all the more clear! Thank you!
As Taylor’s dad, I must say two things…1) Taylor has always been an “I’ll do it myself” kind of person driven by her own time table. If I helped her learn to read it was only because she decided it was time for her to let me help her. 2) I’m sure I was right at least one other time.
Taylor, your post was somewhat novel to me because your experience seems to be the inverse of mine in many ways.
On an individual level, I didn’t start school until 3rd grade so I never experienced the startling transition from the lax expectations of preschool to the “rigorous” reading and writing curriculum of Kindergarten that you describe…It seems somewhat unfair and reminiscent of the De Parle article.
On another note, your story is interesting to me because in all the kids I’ve worked with and all the young children in my family, I’ve only ever encountered one person who didn’t enjoy the process of learning to read.
Emma, in your comment, what is the antecedent of “it?” What, exactly, is unfair? I think you mean the contrast between your formal education experience and Taylor’s, but look out for floating signifiers.
@Taylor’s dad: fair enough, but it sounds like you’re a stalwart ignorer of whining, nonetheless!