Reading is Power

I walked into my former employer's middle school, where I happily taught for 5 years before I moved out of my element into high school journalism, full well knowing that it was not only a tricky job, as most high school journalism teaching jobs are, but also because the high school was affectionately known as "the shark tank."  Here I was leaving the friendly waters of my confines of teaching gifted kids and working with reading teachers in a coaching model - where I had it safe, where I had it good, and where I could balance my life a bit.

I took this job so that I could stretch myself, be stimulated, and grow as a teacher.  Little did I realize how I would be begging for approval, all over myself - from my family, my ex husband, my kids, my principals (and there were many) and the parents of my students.  I was reminded of this, when, in my trepidation thinking about entering that building, and hanging my head low so I wouldn't be recognized.  But alas, I could not hide my face, my mannerisms, or who I was.  One by one, as dismissal was proceeding, and I walked with my eyes focused on the cracks of the sidewalk, on every blade of grass I passed by, my former colleagues greeted me with a smile, a wave, a greeting and hugs.  

At first, I looked up at them as if to earn back their approval, but as I looked in their eyes, I realized I already had it.

And as I walked into the cafeteria, and greeted reading specialists from all over the County, some

familiar, some not so familiar, I realized I was back in my element.  I was fortunate enough to listen to Yaris and Burkins about the very same philosophy of teaching reading that I espouse - let the kids do the work.  It shouldn't be the teacher doing the rain dance around them while the kids point and have their hands out waiting for the spoons of information and "right" answers we feed them in order to think we're making a difference.  Their books, "Reading Wellness," and "How to Say Less so Kids Say More," are great reminders of the metacognition that has to go on in kids' heads when they read.  Self-efficacy is more than half the battle with struggling readers.  

So, I became enthused and invigorated and renewed by what I heard, and although most of the crowd were elementary reading specialists, I realize the value of their advice applied to not only beginning readers, but those in middle school who word call, and those in high school stretching to understand "Beowulf" and Shakespeare, and those in middle age who still struggle with life in general.

And then they closed their talk with the reference to the blog entry about P.D. Eastman's book "Go, Dog, Go."  Now, that brought me to my own a-ha moment, my revelation, my own metacognition about my struggle.

Not only was that story so bittersweet to me in my reminiscent mood that I was already entrenched in -- because it was one of the only stories, if not THE only story, that my youngest son, Jack, would have me read to him - over, and over, and over, and over again --  but because of the underlying message that I never got, even though I reread and reread and reread this book umpteen times.  By the time he was in 1st grade, I was "Go, Dog, Go"'ed out.  I told myself if I never saw that book again, it would be too soon.

But no - I didn't see the female dog, begging for attention, so desperately seeking approval from one lone male dog, who lorded his superiority over her, and so crassly and carelessly, without filter,

dismissed her.  I didn't see her outrageous attempts for attention, her desperate cries to be worthy, to call out and seek recognition and validation.  Until.....Yaris and Burkins brought that blog post up in closing.  

You see, you can be 5, and you can be breaking the words apart, segmenting and blending, but not understand what you are reading, and you can be 8, and concentrating so hard on the words that you miss the picture that is giving you the clues as to the meaning, and you can be 13 and looking to your teacher to ask, "Is this good?  Is this right?" and you can definitely be 16 and completely skipping the

reading instead turning to Cliff's Notes for the abridged version because you just don't "get" it.  Or you can be 52 and realizing for the first time that you don't need to wear some crazy version of a party hat to fit in and that any male dog that treats you like crap shouldn't faze you.  Or for that matter, any dog at all. 

So, you go, girl.  You wear ANY hat you want, and don't you beg for attention, don't you beg for approval. You are in and of itself the epitome of just enough.  

Reading is power.  Rereading is more power.  Even when you're 52.