What "Teaching the Reader First" Means to Me
More than ever, we must acknowledge what our readers are doing and worry less about how they are doing.
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My son laid $15 cash on my desk. The two bills were crisp; they had not spent a lot of time in his wallet. “I want to get the book.” The book he was referring to, Ready Player Two, just came out. He had been talking about it for weeks, having read the first one, and wanted me to buy it on Amazon. “I kind of want it now. Can we get the Kindle version?” I agreed and we downloaded it.
I couldn’t help myself. “Are you going to read that right away? I thought you had another book you were in the middle of…” He stopped, turned around and explained his reading plan to me. “Okay, I will only read the first two chapters of Ready Player Two, just to preview it, and then I will finish my current book. How does that sound?” I nodded, more in acknowledgement than agreement.
What is our goal when teaching readers? Is it to help them become better readers? If so, then what does it mean to be a “better reader”?
In school we often determine progress and success by the number of books or pages they read, or a score on an assessment. If they do not meet a goal or a threshold, they have not “arrived” as a reader. And yet, when we focus on these arbitrary measures for success, we risk missing the subtle but more important indicators of engaged readers, such as the willingness of a fourteen-year-old boy to spend $15 of his own money on a book.
As a personal example, every year I set a goal of 50 books read as part of the Goodreads Reading Challenge. And around this time, I find myself “x” books behind schedule and then starting to think about what shorter texts I might read to meet my goal.
This. Is. Not. The. Point. Thankfully, I have paused and instead looked at what I read throughout the year. One celebration: I have read more books by persons of color. Reading the right books has broadened my perspective in ways that reading more may not have.
These expectations we have for our readers are often arbitrary challenges. We present them like obstacles on a ropes course, then point to them and say, “Good luck.” Reading is not some wall to scale; it is an experience, one of the few in our lives that is both enjoyable and productive. We do not have to make it more difficult to experience achievement.
Teachers should still help students craft personal goals and develop specific skills. But can we first understand the reader and then work together with their strengths in mind?
This process is best supported through professional dialogue. For instance, one teacher stayed on a Zoom meeting after a grade level meeting ended. He was worried about a student not turning in assignments and only doing minimal reading. “Is he reading at all?” I inquired. “Yes, just graphic novels.” I paused. “So, he is reading, but not the texts we might prefer he reads.” We agreed that the visual nature of this genre was holding his attention. “He also likes listening to stories,” the teacher added. We now had two engagement points for the reader. It was a new perspective than when we first started our conversation. We can work with students more productively when we see them as capable and willing.
More than ever, we must acknowledge what our readers are doing and worry less about how they are doing. Everything feels new: teaching, leading, learning. And the challenge is substantial: How do we guide our students to build and sustain their reading lives when we are all at a distance? Access to texts are more limited, and we have fewer ways of ensuring they are engaged with text.
Accountability can help. I have found students do not mind accountability if they are still in control of their lives. We support independence by providing guidance on how to take responsibility for their reading habits. For example, how can I help this student find an entry point into picking up a book they want to read? What do they need right now? If my agenda is theirs, then we can move toward something more productive together. (Mental note: I did not mention “teaching” once in this paragraph.)
A few days after the purchase of the Kindle book, I asked my son what he was up to. “Reading.” Books were strewn across his bedroom, none in his hands at that moment. I held back on any sarcasm (“Are you reading by osmosis?”) and asked, “Did you get going with Ready Player Two?” He responded, “I can’t - need to finish my other book first.” I mentally kicked myself. “You know what - don’t worry about it. Read it now.” I went and found a charged Kindle and handed it to him. “Enjoy! I do that sometimes too: drop a book I am currently reading for another title I have been waiting for.” I left the room with hope that I had not ruined his interest in reading. I also gave him back his $15. He promptly announced that he was now buying the video game he’s been wanting. [sigh]
People are worried about the gaps kids might have when we come back to in-person instruction. This anxiety can lead to doubling down on ineffective practices, such as prioritizing assessment over supportive instruction. We want control over the situation, so we latch onto numbers and other hard data. And yet levels and pages read are not the gaps I am concerned most about. Rather, it is being removed from an environment that prioritizes reading engagement as much as or more than achievement. Disengagement truly inhibits future growth. What is helpful is knowing we can address these concerns now.
Follow this article with my interview with Regie Routman and what’s essential right now for literacy, along with a short video of me leading a reading conference with my son via Zoom.
Thought about writing professionally for yourself and for others? Consider using this article’s title as a prompt: What does teaching the reader first mean to you? Full subscribers have access to a writing community, with a Zoom session coming up next month. Subscribe today.