It seems that all of our emphasis in schools on improving reading scores has created a sense that reading is an end unto itself. In fact, let’s be clear that no one reads simply to check off some list that they have read something (except, of course, in school). Reading as a life skill is never really an end game, as much as curiosity is, or knowledge-seeking is. We all read for a reason, even if it is pure escapism into a salacious romance novel or a page-turning thriller.
The idea of reading practice as we assign it in school sounds logical. The more that struggling readers read, the better readers they will become. They might even grow to like reading, to be less reluctant. While reading is certainly better than not reading, repeated exposure to that which we don’t enjoy is not a surefire solution unto itself. Just think of what would happen if, let say, you forced your pre-teen child to listen to Bach’s cantatas each night in hopes that he or she may eventually appreciate Bach or even cantatas. Even more perplexing is this: One has to wonder if listening to cantatas each night would give them insights on how to compose one. Probably not, though I think some daring parent should give this a try 🙂
Count me among most who would like to see our children read more in all their classes. We already know that reading builds stamina, increases vocabulary, and improves fluency. To be sure, the extant research shows that struggling readers struggle because they have not read enough and one remedy is to have them read more. Still, some caution is in order here in light of what we see in some of our classrooms, and in response to an excellent essay proffered by C.S. Lewis.
Though most of his essays deal with faith, he also writes about broader issues around belief and culture. In his essay entitled Lilies That Fester, Lewis covers a lot of ground (too much to discuss in one blog post) in pondering our chicken-and-egg conundrum. He makes the case that doing religion (like going to church) is quite a bit different than being religious (like reading your Bible and leading a godly life).
He adds that doing culture (visiting a museum to learn more about art) is much different than being cultured (visiting a museum because you enjoy art). So, let me put it this way: Does someone become cultured by visiting museums and later learning to appreciate what these museums offer? Or does one have to first be cultured (to appreciate art, for example) to enter the museum in the first place? What if we dragged someone kicking and screaming into a museum every weekend for six months? Would a more cultured soul emerge on the other end?
Instructional Leadership: Reading = complex texts
Of course, we pose these questions because (in schools) the same can be asked of our approaches to reading and writing. Yes, we all agree that reading and writing more will help students become more learned, though sometimes it feels as if we are dragging struggling readers (or reluctant readers) into complex texts day after day with the dire hope that something might just rub off on them. It really does sound logical. If so, what happens if we make them read, even if every part of their being is set against it? In truth, the reading instruction we see in some classrooms isn’t far removed from that.
While I cannot argue that struggling readers should read less, I do want to caution that struggling readers (in fact, all readers) should be asked to read more of what they want to read and (to a greater degree) when they want to read it. Yes, yes, with some forced (and teacher-led) exposure to new authors, more complex structures, etc. as a way of growing our children into the deep thinkers we wish for them to become.
This balance we seek begins with admitting that we have moved away from reading as an activity we do in school (which can be fun) to an assignment we do in school (which is never fun). As we currently view things, reading is something we do so as to analyze and annotate to such a degree that our reading instruction sounds more like a threat and less like a promise. Allow me to loosely quote from Roland Barth’s excellent book Learning By Heart. If we are not careful, we can turn our message in schools from “Read or you will hurt yourself” into “Read or we will hurt you.”
Instructional Leadership: Reading = Discovery, Inquiry, Curiousity
Of course, we do not want the pendulum to swing too far the other way either, where our kids are not reading much at all in school. We have made that mistake before. Still, even if we are successful in reading more and more in the content classrooms, all this progress will be for naught if we end up frustrating kids in having them view reading (and writing) as nothing but a chore (and a bore). Though reading something heavy and complex (like a textbook) is necessary sometimes, so is teaching kids that reading is more typically what people do as part of their process of discovery, of inquiry, or curiosity.
One answer to this messy literacy business is easy. Have students read more things that they enjoy and give them time to read when (gasp!) there no assignment in store. Save the heavy stuff for the teacher to provide via read aloud or shared reading, and so he or she can model deep thinking, and (yes) give students opportunities to practice these complex skills in bite-sized, manageable amounts.
If we do this well, our students will be better readers and they will leave us with a greater appreciation for the joy of reading. Somewhere along the way we have made reading a subject and, alas, that joy has been lost. Here’s how C.S. Lewis puts it: “Those who read poetry to improve their minds will never improve their minds by reading poetry. For the true enjoyments must be spontaneous and compulsive and look to no remoter end. The muses will submit to no marriage of convenience.”
Yes, of course, reading poetry will improve our minds but not if we read solely for the purpose of improving our minds. And not if we offer up poetry as just one more passionless assignment in our dire search for some remoter end.
If you don’t believe me, just ask the muses, for we have much to learn from them.
