If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is that I love books. (And to anyone who can name the source for that first line … a free lifetime subscription to this blog!)
Books are one of my lifelong passions. I enjoy the heft of them in my hand. I like turning pages and scanning the black-on-white text. I like flipping forwards and backwards quickly through a book, anticipating and revising my reading.
I love the experiences that I have with books. Sitting outside on a fall day, a worn copy of The Lord of the Rings propped on my knee. Reading Dracula aloud by flashlight on a night near the end of October. Tucking my daughter in at night and watching her eyes grow huge as we read about Winnie-the-Pooh’s attempt to capture a Woozle.
I am so sad when I encounter a young person who cannot read. I am sorry for the experiences that they have missed and will continue to miss. I can accept that some people will not have the same love of books that I do; I can’t accept that they haven’t had the chance to make a choice.
It has been one of the most surprising things about this career: regularly meeting high school students who cannot functionally read an article or a story. And then when I watch those same students march across the stage to get their diploma, despite their continued illiteracy, I am disappointed and frustrated. Somewhere we have decided that ‘student success’ equals ‘getting a credit or diploma’, and we’ve glorified that version of success to the extent that we are willing to graduate someone who is illiterate.
Susan’s reflection on the qualities and practices of excellent reading teachers has inspired me to consider my own teaching practice in light of those. My goal: high school graduates who can decide for themselves whether or not Barney’s Version is a great Canadian novel.
As promised, I’ve finally gotten around to reading your posts, and I’ve quite enjoyed all of them, except the comment about that annoying colleague of yours not wanting to spoil the entertainment of movies through over-analysis. Why can’t we analyze the books and just leave the magic of movies alone?
Anyways, I was hesitant to leave a reply, mostly because I don’t feel I have anything lofty to contribute, but I did find your reflections on literacy interesting. I certainly must agree with you; it’s unfortunate so many students are reluctant, if not entirely incapable, readers. And yet, there are students who share a similar passion for reading that you do.
Perhaps this is an unfair assessment, but it seems to me that students who are recreational readers (of novels) are usually of a higher academic calibre and those students who find reading to be a chore (or a bore) tend to be on the lower end of that spectrum.
I wonder if reading has finally become the ultimate divider of class, and if so, who will champion the reluctant reading-proletariat in the great new world?