Reading as a Garden
Before crafts and writing, I was a classroom teacher for over ten years. I taught kindergarten-second grades (along with handwork to third graders). I considered the path to reading one of my most important quests. And, as conversations swirl around reading and children learning to read, I want to serve up a tray of goodies and a cup of tea and chat like I once chatted with parents of children in my class at school. Most schools treat reading as a straightforward path. Follow these skills- learn the alphabet, learn your sounds, and tada, you can read!
Reading is not nearly that straightforward for some children. Especially when I was a “Reading Teacher” and my own daughter struggled with reading. Turns out that she has dyslexia, which was easy to overlook in younger grades because she was bright and engaged and eager to learn. Often, children that don’t meet benchmarks, or goals, by certain ages are called “Reluctant Readers.” They’re not reluctant in my experience. If anything, they want to read so badly. They want to curl up like their peers and wander through stories. They simply, through no fault of their own, haven’t followed the traditional path to reading acquisition (which is a fancy way to say they haven’t “learned to read”).
These are big ideas and big discussions that I’ll keep adding with ideas, insights, and, hopefully, inspirations. Writing Forest Fairy Crafts connects to this idea about creating a world where children are empowered. Not only do children learn to make things, but non-fiction can be an excellent resource and practice for beginning readers. More on that soon.
First, let’s start with a story. Imagine that you need to grow a garden. You’re responsible for a patch of dirt. And you are promised, if you do your work, if you show up, if you dig and plant and care for the soil, you will enjoy the fruits of that labor. Sweet strawberries and blossoms with jewel-tone petals. Leafy shade and lush greenery. The hard work will pay off so many times over.
You can do this. After all, everyone wants to help.
But the soil is full of stones. It’s not easy. Instead, it’s heavy toiling work. The sun is hot and the dirt is hard and maybe your tool is a spoon. Still, you work and work and work because it will be so worth it.
Yet, somehow, every single day, when you return, the rocks are still there. They’re heavy. They’re constant. And just when you think you've made progress, you return to find even more rocks!
You glance over to your friends’ gardens. They must be struggling too. Except they are munching on sweet strawberries. They sprinkle water on growing vines. Their gardens are easy. And they say to you, “We just followed directions. We planted seeds and the seeds grew. Why can’t you do that?”
Then, at some point, the adults get frustrated too. Maybe if digging rocks isn’t enough at school, maybe you should dig more rocks at home. And when you say that your spoon is bent and broken, they say that you can do it because they believe in you. Or maybe you’re lazy. Maybe should practice digging rocks at recess instead of playing with the other children.
By the time a child is called a reluctant reader, they have probably been digging at rocks for years. And, somehow, we think more digging will make reading better. We think that more flashcards, more drills, more time sounding out words will change everything. Sometimes it does. One of the reasons this happens is that some gardens are developmental. Meaning that a student’s garden grows a little later, but it’s part of brain development, so the rocks kinda melt away (usually around 7-9 years old- late enough to cause concern but not long enough to cause lasting skill deficits). Another group is found to have a learning disability that drops tons of rocks into a garden. And targeted lessons can help a student make progress with the rocky soil.
By far, the hardest challenge to overcome is when the rocks become a weight around reading for life. When “practice” becomes a chore. When that “Reluctant” label lasts even after the soil grows strawberries and wildflowers. That label can last long after the rocks are cleared out of the soil.
My goal as a teacher was to hold every student as capable. To recognize the hard work. To realize that reading skills did not equal effort. And to assure children that I was there to help them, to make their garden easier, not to make it all their fault if the soil didn’t grow a garden as easily as their peers.
What can we do, as adults, to help children struggling with reading?
We can recognize the effort. We can say, “You’ve tried so hard, let me read a few pages so you can have a break.”
We can observe without judging. We can see them wildly guess at words that don’t make sense, or sound out every single letter in a word like "s-o-m-e-d-a-y”. We can notice that they do great with books about machines but struggle with stories. We can notice patterns without saying things like, “Why are you like this?” or “Just try,” or “You could do this yesterday.”
We can believe kids. When they say something is hard. Or they have a headache. Or it doesn’t make sense. Believe them. I understand wanting children to work hard, and encouraging them to rise up to challenges. At the same time, there’s incredible relief in hearing, “I believe you.” Believing children can build trust that helps both of you work forward together instead of pushing a “reluctant” learner towards a goal that you both wish they could reach faster. And, trust me in this, they may have very good reasons for struggling. I’ve worked with many children that discovered years after we worked together that they had a processing disorder, learning disability, or additional challenge that meant twice as hard to get half as far as their peers. Struggling was not their fault. Listen to children when they say something is hard.
We can let them read what they like. Who cares if it’s an “easy” book or board book or graphic novel or any other book that doesn’t fit an academic agenda for part of the day? Who cares if they pretend to read a weighty novel to match their peers? You can set aside time for focused practice, and give time for self-selected reading. Let them fly through pages sometimes. Let them have “easy” days where they read the book that you know they have memorized. Let them feel what success feels like. One of the challenges in our learning model is that, once a child masters a skill, we give them a new skill and a new skill. Children do enjoy challenges, and need new quests, but balancing that with comfortable confidence pays off every time.
Let them read wrong. When we call attention to every mistake, that can make children hypervigilant for mistakes. If the error doesn’t change the story, let mixed up words slide. Especially if they can tell you what the story was about at the end.
Let them know when they’re reading well. We can focus on mistakes and miss the ten words that were read fine. At the end of a page, for short texts, notice that they read “the, cat, went, to, the,” wonderfully. Reflect places of strength alongside where they needed help.
Let them read more than books. Let them read food boxes and brochures. Let them read non-fiction. Let them read recipes. Let them read directions about how to put favorite toys together. Let them read rules for games. Let them read until they’re tired and then help out with reading with them (or for them).
My hope is to collect more stories and ideas in the coming months. As a parent, I relied on other teachers to help me understand how to help my daughter. But with all sorts of questions about school during Covid, I want to share my insights with parents and students that may not have the usual school resources.
My main quest for young studetns was to nurture an interent and fascination with stories and non-fiction. Skills can come in time. We can help them dig rocks. But if they learn that gardening is awful work, that attitude lasts long after they can successfully grow (or read).
One of our goals with Forest Fairy Crafts was to create books that could inspire meaningful reading for children. I look forward to sharing how we hold that vision, and how that can inspire children of all skills and abilities, in the coming weeks. We can create magic. Because reading, like growing sweet strawberries, is one of the best magics in the world.
