For years, I’ve been spreading a lie.
Whenever I have given author talks or writing workshops, I have spewed the same nonsense.
Heck, I really spewed this nonsense when I taught university classes.
Hundreds of times I’ve said this ridiculous phrase:
“I’ll never forget the moment I learned how to read.”
Then I go on to describe what an avid reader I’ve been since the moment that’s seared into my memory of reading Hop on Pop for the first time.
During these author talks or whatever, I always go on to say something asinine like, “From that moment on, it was like I understood a secret code. I couldn’t wait to devour the world that had been opened up to me through the twenty-six letters of our language.”
I’ve really believed that.
Until I had four kids, and I got an up close view of the process learning to read is.
To be clear, what a painful process it is.
Sam and Elisabeth have become pretty strong readers this year. But, still, sitting next to them every night, while they hone their skills kills me. Listening to them sound out words is like watching a dog trying to put on a shirt.
You just want to grab it and do it yourself.
I mean, clearly the dog-shirt analogy breaks down. Because why would you need to grab a shirt to put on a dog?
But, listening to a five-year-old stumble through Hop on Pop every night does make me want to grab the book and read it myself. Maybe it’s because the twins each get their own book and do this dueling reading thing. One is sounding out “M-M-Mouse on H-H-House.” While the other one is reading WAS as SAW on every page. In separate ears. Very loudly. Until all three of us are crying.
Because reading is a process, the tears and dueling reading isn’t always the case. Some nights they both read beautifully. And separately. And my story about instantly! and miraculously! learning to read in one day seems almost true.
But other nights, I realize that story is a lie. I realize that reading is such a process that I am still getting better at it every day. Sam and Elisabeth are getting better at it every day. (Thank YOU, LORD!)
This is all good news, because it’s taught me some patience with Nate, who also likes to practice his reading. At the same time as Sam and Elisabeth, of course.
There will be no instant moment when he can suddenly read competently.
It will be a process.
With any luck, it will be a process he works through at a different time than his brother and sisters.
