— I have four children who have always been homeschooled. They learned to read in four very different ways, though there are some important similarities too (all four have me for a mother, after all). This is the first in a series of posts examining how each of my children learned to read. —
Nova is sixteen years old as of this writing. When she’s not drawing, she is either reading, or she is writing on any one of at least a half-dozen different fantasy stories she has going at any given moment. I am a reader myself, and I began collecting books for her early. Much to my husband’s bemusement, I began purchasing children’s books before the birth – I managed to hold off until I was at least five months along. (I remember the first one I had to buy: Animalia by Graeme Base. It was so beautiful, I couldn’t resist.)
I don’t specifically remember reading aloud to her while I was pregnant (though I think that is a good idea), but I did begin reading to her before she could sit up. She loved rhythmic stories such as Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb. If I have occasion to read it these days, I still read it in the same cadence she loved, keeping a steady beat with no pauses, even between the pages.
Books were her first, best toys. As a toddler, she used to sit on the floor in front of her bookshelf, put her forefinger on the top of the spine of a book, and pull firmly until it came off the shelf, repeating until she had all her friends on the floor with her. After she nearly put her eye out a time or two by flipping sharp corners directly toward her face, I transferred her books into baskets so she could make her messes with less threat of injury.
Starting to Read and Write
When she was old enough to hold the books and turn the pages herself, I would “read” to her while I was driving. We kept a basket of board books in the car, and I would recite each page (I had them all memorized by this point) and say “Ding!” when it was time for her to turn the page.
Sometime around eighteen months, when she was barely talking, she began saying a phrase I couldn’t figure out. She would walk around saying “ah goo, ah goo, ah goo” and I could tell it had meaning to her, but I couldn’t quite figure out what she meant by it. Then one day I saw her plop down with our well-read copy of Where the Wild Things Are, carefully turning each page, until she came to the page where “that very night in Max’s room a forest grew … and grew … and grew …” and as she turned each page she recited, “ah goo … ah goo … ah goo …” and I knew she was reading.
No, of course she was not decoding the phonics of the written words, but she was getting meaning from the book and understanding the story on her own, which is after all, at its heart, what reading is.
Around her third birthday, we had to send a birthday card to a family member. I handed her the card and a pen for her to “sign her name” … that is, make a scribble. She took the pen from me and carefully wrote each letter of her name. I had never shown her how to write her name or even talked with her much about the alphabet other than in the most general terms, and of course reading books such as Dr. Seuss’s ABC and Applebet, one of my all-time favorite alphabet books. I am not a proponent of programs to teach very young children to read, but it was clear to me that she was going to be one of those kids who just picks it up early and effortlessly.
Hitting a Speed Bump
Her headlong progress stalled out, however. I fully expected her to be reading independently somewhere between four and five – again, without me pushing, pressuring, or even teaching her to read, just because she was “that kind of kid.” But though she progressed almost magically on her own to the point of reading simple words or phrases, if I showed her a page with more than two or three words on it, she would physically turn her head away, stating, “It’s too hard.” Please understand, I wasn’t trying to get her to read books other than the simple picture books she loved, or even pushing her to read in any way; I was following her natural progression until she suddenly stopped for no reason I could discern.
I feel very blessed to have learned what I learned next, because it is not an avenue I would have pursued on my own, at least not so early. I was talking to a friend at church about some behavioral issues with Nova and she said, “You might want to consider vision therapy.” I had not heard of this but after she told me her child’s story, I had an appointment with her vision doctor quicker than you could say “Jack jumped over the candlestick.”
We already knew that she had vision problems. Around her second birthday, she began crossing her eyes. An exam with a regular eye doctor put her into glasses to correct her severe hyperopia (far-sightedness) and also mild astigmatism. When she wore her glasses (which she did at all times) her eyes didn’t cross, but as soon as they were off her eyes would cross again.
A Lazy Eye
Her exam revealed that she was not using her binocular vision; that is, her eyes did not work in sync, but one at a time. Look at a page of print and try to read it while alternating using your eyes: close first one eye then the other and repeat that in succession, and you’ll see why more than three words on a page was “too hard” for my daughter. Her glasses stayed, of course, as her vision was so poor, but our new eye doctor did remove the correction for astigmatism from her prescription. He said she did have astigmatism, but when she focused on something, her eyes corrected it on their own so she didn’t need the correction in her spectacles.
As I learned more about vision therapy and who needs it, I realized quite a few things about my daughter that had seemed like idiosyncrasies were, in fact, symptomatic of her vision problem. For instance, when I gave her stickers and paper, she would pile all the stickers almost on top of each other in a little square, leaving the rest of the paper completely empty: she hyperfocused on a small area that she could see easily, rather than looking at the entire paper. She ran almost sideways, looking over one shoulder. She had never crawled as a baby.
Vision therapy (which I will post about more soon) brought rapid changes in more than her reading ability, which blossomed within two or three months of beginning the therapy (though reading was not part of the therapy). She began to run in a straight line. In gym class (her fine motor skills were excellent but she lacked most of the graces having to do with large muscle skills, so I enrolled her in a fun, low-pressure gymnastics class around age four) she had always been bottom of the class, but the summer of her vision therapy, every coach in the class came up to me to mention her sudden and (to them) inexplicable improvement. She was in vision therapy for about nine months and came out of it reading fluently and running straight. She no longer crosses her eyes when her glasses are off … or at least, only when she wants to.
That’s All, She Read
And that’s really all I have to say about how Nova learned to read, because that’s all there is. I read to her extensively, I surrounded her with books, I taught her to love books. When she hit a snag in her development, I found the help she needed to get past it and get on with her reading. As soon as her vision was straightened out, she began reading without any further instruction or encouragement from me; she was already desperate to read and had the entire skill set necessary for it, she just needed working vision to implement it. She skipped over a lot of the early childhood literature, moving quickly on from the simple first chapter books to complicated books well above her grade level.
I will add this note of caution: read to your children, let them see you loving books, but don’t necessarily expect this type of response. This is Nova’s personality and how she responded to books. In the next chapter of this series, you’ll read about her mirror opposite in the learning-to-read department: her brother Lock, who received the same amount of “book stimulation” she did, but responded very differently.
Some of my favorite children’s books.
Teach a Child to Read With Children’s Books by Mark Thogmartin: This is the only teaching reading book I recommend for homeschoolers. It takes the natural learning to read process as shown by my daughter and describes the process in a way many parents will find helpful, especially if they are not avid readers themselves. It also gives ways to encourage and enhance reading while keeping it meaningful and enjoyable.
Photo is © copyright protected. All rights reserved.
See the Wordless Wednesday hub for more wordless posts from other bloggers.
Chicken pox has blessedly come and now just as blessedly gone for my four now-immune children. The pox parties are over (yes, a few people wanted to come over); life is returning to normal. Expect new posts very soon! 🙂
Yes, Lock has some on his tongue, Kyro has one directly on his lower eyelid, and Mink has one on her eyeball! Yikes!
But it was all over with very fast, without too much distress. First Nova and Lock caught it from someone at church, then two weeks later Kyro and Mink came down with it, having caught it from their older siblings. So glad they got it over with finally!
Nova and Lock weren’t too uncomfortable and made do with oatmeal baths. When Kyro (6) and Mink (4) got it, they were much more uncomfortable. I had started reading up on homeopathic remedies for chicken pox, so I had the homeopathic remedy rhus tox ready for them. Their pox ran its course much more quickly than the others! Nova and Lock had blisters for seven or eight days before everything finally started drying up. Kyro and Mink, on the other hand, with regular doses of rhus tox, were starting to dry up on the fourth day (at least three days earlier!) and their old blisters were clearing up by one week, when their older siblings had just started drying out. Love that homeopathy!
About seven years ago …
“Look, Mom, I broke my pecan in half.”
“Mmm-hmmm. Does it taste better that way?”
“Now I broke both halves in half. Now I eat them!”
“Wow! Do you know that when you break a half in half, it’s called a fourth?”
“Yeah, look. I’ll break this pecan in half, and then both halves in half. How many pieces do I have?”
“One, two, three, four.”
“Right, four. So each piece is one-fourth. Get it?”
Without responding, she eats the pecan. Okay, maybe it’s a little over her head; she only just turned five. We eat a few more pecans, then …
“Look, mom! This pecan is in thirds!”
Sure enough, there in her hand is one pecan in three pieces.
So does Nova, at five years and three months of age, understand fractions? No. But is she gaining a good basic understanding of real world math? Yes.
Will she remember this tomorrow? Unlikely. But has she gained a concrete experience of fractions that she can build on when fractions show up again in her young life? Absolutely.
Did I set out to teach her fractions? No. Did I use a concrete opportunity to help her put a name to something she is beginning to understand intuitively? Yes.
Will I run out and find some fraction worksheets to help her build on her knowledge? Not on your life. Will I keep an eye out for more concrete, real-world experiences that I can use to help her expand her own world? You bet.
Not bad for a Christmas Eve morning, sitting in your mom’s lap eating pecans, and wearing your dad’s sweatpants as a shawl.
If you choose to tell your children the truth about Santa Claus, be prepared to deal with the fallout! Several years ago, when our oldest daughter Nova was about four, and very verbal, we went out to eat a couple of weeks before Christmas. Our very peppy waiter crouched down at her eye level and excitedly asked her, “So sweetie, what is Santa bringing YOU for Christmas?!?”
With a perfectly deadpan expression, our little angel turned to him and said, “Santa is DEAD.”
The poor man, he looked as though she had hit him over the head with a frying pan. He gabbled something or other and looked at us as though we were devils incarnate.
Of course, she didn’t mean it quite the way it came out. Early on in our marriage, my husband laid down a law: No Santa! He felt strongly that this was, in essence, lying to our children. I wanted to honor his wishes but at the same time be sensitive to my children’s spirit and the very real appeal of Santa, so after much consideration I decided the best answer was, simply, the truth! I discovered later that other people have chosen this same path. Each year, early in December, we tell our children who St. Nicholas really was (and we usually give them their stockings at the same time). Nicholas was a real man born in what is now Turkey. He was a bishop in the Christian church and was martyred on December 6, AD 383, a day remembered as St. Nicholas’ Day. His generosity and loving spirit were so cherished that his story grew into the charming legend of Santa Claus. (The name is taken from the Dutch, who call him Sanct Herr Klaus; Klaus is a nickname for Nicholas, Sanct is Saint, and Herr means Mister.)
However, I have my doubts that explaining the true story of Santa Claus would have changed our waiter’s mind that we were incontrovertably Very Bad Parents. 🙂