Reading Is Fundamental

A friend shared an article about how much the US is spending to combat illiteracy - and it doesn't seem to be working. Only about a third of high school seniors are proficient in reading. And that should alarm everyone. Estimates are the illiteracy costs this country over $300 billion per year. It affects everything from reduced earning capacity to slow-downs in production. And how does someone navigate roads if you can't read the street signs? What about ordering food if the menu board is unintelligible to you? How do kids who can't read well fill out job applications?

Knowing how to read basic English is essential to any type of job. So how is it that the majority of kids about to graduate from high school can't read well? How did they get to the end of their basic educational journey without learning to read? The public education system appears to be failing the majority of its students.

But wait, there's more. We can't blame it all on the schools; learning to read begins at home, almost from birth. When I started kindergarten in 1960, I could already read and write. I knew my numbers to 100. And I wasn't a child prodigy; that was normal for kids my age. And the 'Dick and Jane' books like the one here were on the lower bookshelves in my home.

Statistics show that kids who are read to at home as small children become readers, those who don't just read well but also enjoy it. And not only was I read to as a child (by my parents, grandparents, babysitters, and others), books surrounded me. My dad always had a novel going. His morning routine consisted of coffee and breakfast while he read the morning newspaper. Reading the evening paper after supper was also part of his day. And sometimes if an article were amusing or entertaining, he'd read it to all of us. He read everything - Sunday comics to detective stories to science fiction to history. Part of my love for reading an assortment of genres grew out of that I think.

But I had even more exposure to books than in my home. My paternal grandparents lived on Wheelock Parkway in St. Paul, not far from Farnsworth, the grade school I attended from grades 2-6. I often walked to Grandpa and Grandma Ray's house after school, and then my dad would pick me up on his way home from work at 3M. Afternoons at my grandparents' house consisted in all kinds of learning adventures. Sewed my first dress at age 9; baked my first cake at age 7. But love of reading was a big part of those days as well. My grandmother's father had moved in with them after his wife died and he broke his hip. His body was frail but his mind was active. And he loved poetry - Burns and Whittier were among his favorites, as was Longfellow. I had memorized "The Wreck of the Hesperus" by the time I was 8. I'd sit in his lap and he'd wrap one arm around me while the other held a book he 'read' from. (The reason for the quotes is by this point he was almost blind, and it took me years to put together the reality that he wasn't reading from those books; he was reciting his favorites from memory.)

In the entryway of the Wheelock Parkway house, there was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stuffed to the limit with books of all sorts - some old and falling apart, some newer; some whose dust covers had long since disappeared, while others were wrapped in cellophane (I think those volumes came from the annual library used book sale). Magazine racks held several issues of National Geographic (peach crates in the attic were the archives; my Grandpa Harvard had every issue ever published). Life, Look and Time were often laid out on the coffee table, and my Grandma Katie's knitting basket held a book or two she was currently reading. Whenever she'd go somewhere, a book got tucked into her large purse. She'd read on the bus or in the doctor's office waiting room. She often read in the car. I got a fantastic example!

Books were often the gift of choice for birthdays and Christmases. My mom's eldest brother was a history teacher; even when I was a small child, gifts from him were usually either age-appropriate historical fiction or biographies. And if I ever stayed at his home, he would read to me and my cousin before we went to bed. Oh, and he would tell stories as he tucked us in - but that's for another time.

With my Grandma Kate, passing on her love for reading bordered on the fanatical. Each year for my birthday, she would take me downtown on the 14B bus and we'd go to a bookstore that was on the lower level of the Capp-Towers Hotel. I was allowed to pick out one book for each year of my age. Then we went to Dayton's River Room for lunch (boy did I feel special, all dressed up in my Sunday best, hat and gloves and a small fake pearl necklace; those were the days women dressed up to go downtown). We'd finish up with a stop at Candyland for a popcorn ball or a bag of caramel corn for the bus trip home. The new books, of course, were wrapped up and safe in my grandma's purse so I wouldn't get my sticky hands on them. I could only have them when we got back to her house and I washed and dried my hands for her inspection.

In addition to the birthday books, Grandma Kate also allowed me free access to her entryway 'library'. I could choose any book; there were no restrictions. Although sometimes she'd have a suggestion. Her only rules were: I had to finish each book I 'checked out,' and I could not choose another book until I'd given a satisfactory oral report on the one I had just read. If perchance the report wasn't up to snuff, as she put it, I'd have to go back and re-read it and do another report. Reading comprehension was just as important to this former English teacher as literacy.

And in grade school, a lot of attention was put on reading in the lower grades. We had a great school library, and there was a program where the more proficient readers were paired with someone in their class who was struggling. I recall sitting out in the hallway at Farnsworth with a classmate, reading to them as I ran my fingers under the rows of letters. Now, many may mock this, but back in the day I think teachers understood a thing or two about reading that has since gotten lost. (Check out this article...a suggestion to parents is to actually do this as they read to their kids.) My youngest, Abbi, learned to read about the age of 4 because her regular babysitter would read to her like this.

The public library was my favorite place to go. Arlington Hills Public Library (a Carnegie Library, which sadly no longer exists) was within biking distance, and I was allowed to go there on my own. (These days you'd never let a grade school child do that!). It was my favorite place in the summer especially. The library wasn't air conditioned, but it was built of stone and brick, with high ceilings. The basement was especially cool, but even curled up on a window seat with a book, I was more than comfortable. I don't know if they do this anymore, but back then libraries used to have Summer Reading Programs, where for each book you read, you'd get a slip of paper or some sort of thing they'd put up on a huge board under your name. I remember one year the theme was 'Bookworms,' and to start off you'd get a caterpillar head with your name on it, and each finished book meant another segment of the worm. By the end of the summer mine trailed onto the floor! There were prizes for reading milestones, and there were special end-of-summer gifts for those who read the most books. You might get a book bag or even a free book; perhaps a coupon for a cone at Dairy Queen or a rootbeer at A & W.

As I talk with old friends, many have memories of these things as well. So, what has changed? Has love of reading fallen out of favor? Sometimes I wonder if the digital age has a downside. No longer do homes have volumes of encyclipedias (World Book was in our home; salesmen came door to door). Why have hard cover or even paperback books when you can just read it on the internet? No, there's something important about actually holding a book while you read, not with an iPad or an Amazon Kindle in your hands. (A recent survey indicates that 35% of 15 year olds have never read an actual book; even textbooks are online.) The most effective method of learning is to combine senses; that's why note-taking is important. Holding a book involves touch, not just sight. Add to that reading out loud and you've also involved hearing.

My husband and I both love to read, and we're very thankful to have grandchildren who do as well. Our daughter in Germany asked for copies of favorite books from her childhood when she was pregnant with her daughter; having a library of her beloved classics to share with her was extremely important. I recently came across a first edition of 'Misty of Chincoteague' by Marguarite Henry and sent it to her. I was introduced to Ms. Henry's books when I was small; Abbi also read them, and now her daughter is being brought into this delightful world of horses. My son's two kids look forward each year to the school book fair, and Grandpa and Grandma make sure they have lots of money to spend on books they get to choose for themselves.

This past October (2023) when we were in town for my 50th high school reunion, the day we arrived just so happened to be the book fair, so we got to go with them. There was just something so special about watching those kids pick out books with Grandpa John. John doesn't recall something like this when he was a kid; he said if they did have it at school, he probably didn't go because there was barely money for food and books were a luxury. For him things have changed; often at the thrift store as I'm browsing for gnomes and kitchen stuff, I find him in the bookshelves.

How do we stimulate literacy? I don't have the answers, but I do believe fostering a love of reading needs to begin at home. That's where it began for me, and I continued that with my children. I even read to them while I was pregnant. And I'm happy to say my grandkids show signs of becoming very proficient readers; both Andy's kids read well above their grade levels. Hallelujah!