Learning to read is magical, but it is not magic. It does not just happen by some miracle. Yet, the underlying assumption for the majority of American educators is that if you put kids in front of enough good books, they will eventually learn to read. Match a student with an engrossing book at their reading level and ta da! She will improve. How do I know? I used to be a teacher who believed this whole heartedly.
After a few years teaching middle school, I felt like I had a pretty good idea of how to teach reading. I spent days and days assessing all my students’ “just right” reading levels with the Fountas & Pinell Benchmark Assessment System at the beginning of the year. I spent countless hours sorting all of the moldy, water damaged books in my classroom by level. I provided my students with plenty of time to read books at their level, even if that meant an 11 year old got stuck reading books meant for 1st graders. I pulled small groups for guided reading where students read - you guessed it - more books at their level, but this time with me hovering over them to listen while they whisper read and answered my questions. When a student filled a reading log with completed books, I retested him. Why? I thought that if he had read enough books at his level, he would have certainly improved and be ready for harder texts.
Everything started to change when a special education coordinator assigned me to teach Really Great Reading to an intervention group. This was the first time that I taught a systematic intervention focused on word level reading. I received no training and had to figure out how to teach vowels, digraphs, and blends by reading the manual the night before teaching. I am certain I made many errors due to my lack of knowledge; however, my struggling readers improved. They could read words that they could not before, and thus, they could understand books that they couldn’t before. It was beautiful.
This sparked my interest in explicit, systematic, word level reading instruction. I enrolled in a masters level reading specialist program in hopes of finally receiving training in this type of instruction, but I was disappointed to get mostly theory and loosely structured practicums. I ended up mostly teaching myself how to teach reading through scripted, Orton Gillingham inspired curriculums. A few years later, I completed a solid dyslexia specialist certification program that rounded out my knowledge and skills.
Here’s my point: I was a well prepared and well intentioned teacher, yet I fell into the “reading is magic” trap. I thought I had joined the profession after the reading wars had ended, but I now realize that I was basically using a whole language approach. It would have been hard to avoid. The magic myth was in the air I breathed. It was embedded in the competitive and rigorous teacher prep program I completed, in the award winning schools where I taught, and in the professional books and journals that I studied.
I am so excited and inspired by the attention that the “science of reading” is getting in the press, on social media, and among teachers on the ground, but there is much work to be done. We have to change literacy education at every level. Are you ready join the effort?
