Imagine if I told you, an
adult who reads for entertainment, that you’ll now be required to answer a
question with a written response every time you put down a book or an article.
The articles will have more questions, with both multiple choice and long
written responses. They’ll ask you questions like this:
What is the purpose of
this sentence? They had a tiny yard.
Is it A.) To tell you the size of their
yard or B.) To explain why they built a tree house (That’s an actual question from
my son’s homework last night. The correct answer is B.)
And books…well, to make
sure you understand what you’ve read, you’ll have to write short responses every time you read, as well as a longer
summary and review when you finish the book.
I’m a writer, and that
doesn’t sound like “reading for pleasure” to me. The thing is, I’m also a teacher. I know that
you need kids to read, and you need them to get better at reading as fast as
possible, because your paycheck depends on it. Even the ones who didn’t eat
breakfast this morning or any morning. Even the ones who speak English as a
second language. Even the ones who hate reading because it’s hard and boring
and just doesn’t make sense.
No child left behind,
right?
You need them to read, and
you have to hold them accountable, and you have to prove that you tried,
even if you can’t show growth.
My fifth grade son starts
two full weeks of standardized testing Monday. My third grader already completed
his. I expected the homework to
decrease at this point. Silly, I know. Instead, my older son’s online lessons
increased from two to five. That means five online lessons in addition to his
hour+ of old fashioned paper and pencil homework.
But the real kicker is for
my third grader. The one who already finished his tests. Instead of nine online
lessons per week, in addition to regular homework, he now has sixteen. Sixteen
online lessons per week. Plus homework. Plus projects. Plus “pleasure” reading
and responses every night. Except, when is he supposed to do this reading for fun?
I know, I know. I could
homeschool them. I could pull them from their accelerated/advanced magnet
school. But it’s not just their school. This pervasive sickness is invading
education culture in our country. I’m not venting to complain, but to
lament.
They’re killing the love
of reading.
If you want kids with
higher lexile levels, make them fall in love. Hook them with whatever hooks
them so they can’t put the words down. Make them hunger for it. Comic book
superheroes, wimpy kids, princesses, elephants, or wizards away at boarding
school. Feed whatever stokes that fire. Read aloud and silently, outside or on
bean bags or stretched out on the floor. Open up their imaginations and pour
stuff in until something sticks. Celebrate the day they’re late to class
because they couldn’t stop reading. Let
them draw their book reports, or just stand up and talk about what was awesome
or what was cheesy, or write their own fan fiction with a new ending.
Because once they fall in
love, they won’t be able to stop. They’ll read that longer, more complicated
book because everyone’s talking about it at lunch, and it has a zombie and an
evil alien warlord. Or they’ll learn what the word obsequiously means because
that’s how that freshman acted around the student body president in that one contemporary
romance.
See, my son should be able
to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows with joy and anticipation and
maybe even a little disappointment that the beginning is so long. He shouldn’t
have to worry that if he doesn’t read the right number of pages each night, he
won’t make his goal of 1,050 pages for the quarter, or that he might have to
stop and read some easier, short books in between to complete the right number
of reports.
There are some things you
just can’t measure on standardized tests or additions to the portfolio. Every kid
is different. If you teach a kid to love reading, maybe you won’t see the
results right now. But you will change the world. You’ll change his or her world. And isn't that what really matters?
Music for today: Everything Is Wrong by Interpol.
