In response to a request from Life Without School, I decided to write about the lessons I learned as my children learned to read.
My oldest, Wanderlust and my youngest, Giggle Goose learned to read in a similar manner…. sitting on my lap with Pathways to Phonics. At the age of 5, they were content to sit with me for 10 to 30 minutes a day and flip through the book page by page. I was content with this as well. It was comfortable and cozy. It was the ‘dream’ of a homeschooling mother.
My lessons came from my son, Jumpin’ Bean.
When JB was 5, I had him climb onto my lap. It was time to open up Pathways to Phonics and “teach” him to read. I flipped to page 1. The vowels. The letter “A”. ”Ah” I said, pointing – just as I had done before.
He looked at me, squirmed and flipped to page 35. He tried to read it, but then said it was too hard. I ‘oh, so patiently’ flipped back to page 1. Then, he wiggled. squirmed. and got down to play.
Okay, I think. I can wait… because I am oh, so patient.
One week later. Same scene. One month later. Same scene. One year later. Same scene.
“I am a failure as a homeschooler and I need to forget the whole thing and put them into school where a real teacher can teach him to read – because I obviously don’t know what I am doing” I screamed at myself.
But, I had read things about the benefits of delayed reading and I comforted myself with stories from other homeschool mom’s that didn’t worry about reading at a young age. I revisited journals I had written in years past that reminded me about why I homeschool. The feelings of self-doubt faded. Then my father would call and say, “Is JB reading yet? Isn’t it about time he start?” The anxiousness crept back into my fragile homeschool mom psyche. I redoubled my efforts.
“Come, JB.” I said. “We are going to read. We are going to start at page 1.”
He still squirmed. He wriggled. He whined. He cried. He flipped to page 72 and said things like, “I can’t do it”.
So, I tuned out the nagging voice of my father and the nagging voice in my own head and put my faith in my belief that kids know how to learn – and they don’t need my help. I backed off my son and I worked on myself. What is this nagging need I feel as a mother to have my child reading by a certain age? What have I learned in all this?
- I can’t “force” kids to learn
- I need to trust my instincts – and not give in to society’s idea about how it should be done
- I need to trust my kid’s instinct – they know how they learn best
- I am not as patient as I think I am – and need to work on it
So I waited. Another year went by. And another. My own feelings of anxiety came in waves, but I did my best to remember that these were MY issues I was dealing with – not his.
Meanwhile I was reading aloud book after book; A Story of the World, Little House on the Prarie books, Harry Potter books, Eragon, and on and on. He loved to hear these stories. He begged for more.
Then, one day JB picked up a book - Harry Potter – a big fat chapter book with long sentences – and he read it…. cover to cover. It was the first book he had ever read.
“Horray” I said to myself. “He is finally reading!!!” We went to the library to find him more books. He didn’t want any other books, only Harry Potter would do.
I forgot all the lessons I thought I had learned before. I talked to the librarian about stories that might interest him. I piled up books in front of him and asked him to pick one. I promised to read with him – alternating every other sentence or paragraph. None of it worked. All he would do is read Harry Potter, again and again. Here I was, mettling again. Here I was getting in his way – again.
“Back off” I told myself. “Give him the space you know he needs.”
Some time went by. I continued to work on my own fragile psyche. And one day – he picked up a new book. He has been devouring books ever since. His latest project is writing a story, The Hammer
My lesson was learned – again. I hope it sticks this time… (what can I say? I’m a slow learner)
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