Dating : Learning To Read

If I asked each of you if you remembered learning to read you would probably say you learned in school, or that your parents taught you. It would likely be a secondary memory. You were told later on how you learned to read or you just know you learned because you can read now. I remember learning to read. The first part of my story will be secondary memories. Learning to read might be one of my earliest personal memories. It explains many things from my life, relationships, and likes and dislikes.

First the secondary memories (or I think they are secondary memories): I was a good reader in first grade. I got good grades in reading. My teacher KNEW I could read. We would read out loud in class. My teacher would read sometimes. My teacher would have us read sometimes. I knew exactly how to read. I would look at my book. My teacher would say a sentence or two. My teacher would call on me and I would say the same thing that my teacher said. I was a great reader. I am not blaming my teacher. I know there were lessons on sight reading words. I know there were words pointed out and the sounds that you made when seeing them. I now know that other people looked at those words and associated the sound of them to the letters they saw. The books were easy. See Jane. See Jane run. See Jane jump.

I was a good reader until I got to second grade. When I got to second grade my teacher would call on people to read. My teacher called on me to read. I looked at my book. The teacher did not say the words before she called on me. The words did not come out of my mouth. I could look at my book but my book did not speak to me. My teacher let my parents know that I could not read. I started to learn to read when my parents found this out. I am glad I learned to read. I eventually was reading at grade level and by high school reading above grade level.

People in my family are/were voracious readers. My two older brothers always had books in their hands. My younger brother even though he was mentally handicapped enjoyed reading. My parents loved to read. I was a good reader. Let me explain. I am not angry at my parents. This memory popped up again when I was swimming and thinking about how we do things to make other people feel joy. It just worked its way in and I knew I needed to write about it.

I learned to read using a large children’s dictionary. I can still see the larger print on white paper, it was a big book. I sat nightly, every night for a couple years learning to read. I remember many tears, much yelling, I remember fingers pointed at words expecting me to say the right sound, and I remember being scolded when I couldn’t. I remember looking at words and saying the sounds. I learned what words meant. I was using a dictionary after all. I hated having to sit nightly doing that when my brothers could play, watch television, or even read. I would do it during the summer also. I don’t ever remember not hating it. I don’t ever remember learning to read being pleasurable. I do know that eventually I got better and my nightly lessons ended.

I do know that I didn’t enjoy reading. We would go to the library we would all get books. I would sometimes read them. I would return them and get others when we went back. I read comic books. I am old enough that they were called comic books and not graphic novels. I read when I had to. If I had a book report to do I read the book. If I didn’t I would pay close attention in class and read enough to do well on tests. Being totally honest with myself and everyone here if I hadn’t found my first adult novel I might never have learned to read (I shouldn’t word it this way) for pleasure. The first book that I read for total enjoyment was the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I did that at university when I was a senior. I enjoyed it so much I cut class for two days to finish the books. I read all day and all night devouring them.

I prefer books in series. If I am not drawn into a book early I tend to lose interest and not finish it. Reading a series allows me to be hooked and enjoy all of them. I have talked before about feeling guilty reading while I was in my teaching career during the school year. I did feel that but it could also have been that I was using that excuse to cover up other issues. I am sure it is one reason I still do not enjoy reading non-fiction books.

Once my mind is set right I can read book after book. I wonder if I would have been a different person if I learned to love to read.