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I’ve always loved reading, and when I was able to, I started writing (with my lefty). Both skills came naturally to me, just like breathing. I come from a family that cherishes these skills, so I never questioned whether they were popular hobbies amongst children.

 

These days, I watch with growing concern, how much or rather, how little, children read of their own accord. Unless mummy, daddy or granny insists on it, kids prefer to reach for the tablet and scroll through home-made videos on Youtube. Reading takes too long, it’s boring, when will the story end?

 

You ask them to write a creative piece and it’s an arduous task. You have to keep reminding them to put in adjectives, extend the sentence and make it more complex; it’s like pulling teeth, and teachers/ parents are pulling their hair out in the process.

 

So what’s the solution? Take the tablet away and hand them a book instead? Get them a Kindle and let them scroll through an ebook? I agree with controlled device time, but I’m really talking about kindling (pun intended) that love for reading in children. How do we do that?

 

Well, it’s definitely not by forcing it on them or standing over them with a ruler or pot spoon. Sadly, that’s how many past generations were taught spelling and grammar: it was just something you had to do, and do well. I still shudder at the memory of my Standard five lessons teacher making me hold out my hand for not being able to remember the meaning of a word. The ruler hit my hand, but nothing hurt as much as the shame I felt, being made to stand like I’d done something wrong.  

 

For another child, that approach might have been the reason why he/she stopped reading. And as I reflect on it now, most of the children in that class, who were sitting and looking at me, seemed to have fear in their eyes. They felt sorry for me, but they were also glad that it wasn’t them who’d gotten punished with the ruler.

 

After that incident, the sheer dread of being embarrassed again, made me recite the vocabulary lists over and over the night before his class. I HATED…his class.

 

I’m sure many of you reading this, have a similar story to tell. Forcing me to recite my vocabulary and grammar didn’t make me love reading & writing. It got me to pass an exam, I’ll grant you that, but there was no heart in it. Not in the teaching, nor the learning.

 

So now that we know that’s not the answer, what is? I’m definitely no expert on literacy but here are a couple things that I think, worked for me:

 

Books were plentiful at home and more cherished than treasure: I grew up in a house with many books, and my family treated them like precious commodities. My grandfather actually built a library in his home and I used to watch him as he sat at his desk, tap-tapping away on his type-writer, glasses on his nose, hardly even realizing that I was peeking at him through the doorway. Initially, he never let me go into the library without him present, but as I got older, he’d send me to fetch a book and it was like he’d bestowed the greatest honor on me. I was always amazed at how he could tell me which shelf it was on, what it looked like and which books were next to it. Having a library at home was awesome, and to me as a young child, magical.

 

I saw my parents & grandparents reading: My grand-parents had special chairs/ spots in the house to read. I instinctively knew not to disturb them, and busied myself with paper and crayons during their reading time. When I learnt to read, my grandmother would ‘suggest’ I read books like “Heidi”, “Ballet shoes” and “Pollyanna”. I’d roll my eyes as she handed me the hardcover volumes she’d brought back from her annual trip to London, but secretly, I loved those stories. 

 

And my parents were the same. My dad had (and still has) a National Geographic Magazine collection and my mum used to get a ‘Good Housekeeping’ magazine every month. If anyone was traveling from the U.S., it’s what she would ask for. If I needed pictures for a project, I would have to beg her to cut something out. Those were precious to her and if you messed with them, ‘licks’ would be alive and well in my house. 

 

Even to this day, don’t try to separate my parents from reading the Sunday newspaper. They’re still, both avid readers.

 

Bed-time stories were part of my nightly ritual: It went like this: Get into bed, mummy would tuck the mosquito net under the mattress (aka..tuck me in), she’d instruct me to say my prayers and wait as I recited them. Then, she’d read from a collection of bed-time stories and when it was over, it was “Good night” and lights out. 

 

They bought us quality comic books: Okay, so technically, my parents bought them for my older brother. But trust me when I say, “The Adventures of TinTin” formed my childhood. Because of TinTin comics, my sister was able to inform her class that ‘gaol’ was the same as ‘jail’ (her English teacher was impressed) and my brother’s  primary school Principal had a good old laugh when he wrote “It warmed the cockles of his heart” in an Creative Writing Competition. I loved TinTin and was devastated when my brother lent his collection to a friend, who never returned it. For years, we had to rebuild it, issue by issue. Point to note: A friend who doesn’t return books, needs to be demoted in your social circle or dare I say, excluded altogether.

 

So to the parents/ guardians, you can’t expect your child to love reading, unless you model the behavior yourself. We can’t blame our children for being glued to their tablets, when they see us glued to our phones. 

 

Take them to a bookstore as frequently as you take them to an arcade or a toy store. Pick something up for yourself and have them choose a book too. Get them a beanie/ plush chair and a little bookcase…set them up in a corner and while you read close by, let them do the same.

 

And what about the teachers? They’re so many new approaches out there now. I don’t remember learning ‘Sight Words’ or focusing on “Phonics”, but I see these terms popping up in my nephew’s notebooks. Whatever your approach, I think the most important thing is to make it fun.

 

Again, from my own experience, I loved the teachers who:

 

Played word games/ gave me word search puzzles: They injected a bit of a game-show competition into the class. Who could find the word the fastest, who could run up to the board and put the letters in the right order, or spell a word correctly and dunk a colorful ball in a net, make words with magnetic letters…the teachers were creative and they made it fun. 

 

Let me draw first: I’d be asked to draw a picture of what I did over the weekend or of my favorite animal (it almost always looked like a misshapen pig). And after I drew and coloured to my heart’s delight, then I’d be asked to share what I drew with the class, get clapped and finally, asked to sit and write about what I’d drawn. Motivated by the applause (even though I knew my pig was actually meant to be a dog), I’d focus on the details: its name, its color and what it was like.

 

Didn’t laugh at me when I mispronounced a word: In primary school, I had a teacher called Mrs. Solomon. I don’t know where she is today, but she was one of the kindest and most motherly teachers I’ve ever had. She would lend me books she’d bought for her own children, and let me read to my heart’s content. She entered me in a National Reading Competition and patiently coached me for it, without scolding me for saying a word the wrong way. Her correction was gentle and she was patient. 

Told stories after lunch: Before I could read for myself, I was read to, at school. After lunch, my teacher would select a book and read animatedly/ dramatically from it. She would turn the book to face us, so we could see the pictures and form a solid picture of what was happening in our minds. I loved that time, because at that age, I really didn’t know that there were books outside the realm of fairy tales. Everything ended ‘happily ever after.’  

 

Didn’t make me feel like something was wrong with me for being left-handed: I include this last point, because the opposite of what should have happened, did. I initially loved Penmanship, until one day, when correcting my work, my teacher asked me to rewrite something. When I started to do so in front of her, she said “Oh, that’s why you write that way. You’re left-handed.” I felt like that was something ‘wrong’ to be and I eventually dreaded going up to her to have my work corrected.

 

So to the teachers, I can’t tell you how to teach literacy. As I said, I’m no expert, but I believe there are factors that can either kill or kindle the love for reading/writing skills in your classes. Your approach, your feedback, your tone, the very words you say, leave indelible marks on how students feel about these skills. Give them hope, give them courage and give them confidence.

 

I am eternally grateful to the educators who did that for me and I dedicate this blog to my grandparents: Leslie & Bertha Sankarsingh (Thank you and I hope I keep making you proud).