The Book Whisperer

I find myself drawn to readers in public places as if we share a common bond. We wild readers, freed from school reading demands, gloriously indulge our reading habits, proudly carrying books wherever we go and brazenly reading in front of other people.

Needing pictures of children reading for my upcoming book and discovering that I took few pictures of my students actually reading in my classroom this year (hey, I was teaching, not snapping photos); I sent an e-mail to my former students asking for pictures of them reading in the wild. I received several charming photos of adolescent heads bent over books in all sorts of random summer spots—under trees, in lounge chairs by the pool, even one posed in front of the gates of the White House.

Summer for me is one long quest for reading spots, but if I were to pick one wild location which epitomizes my reading this summer, it would be in an airport. Attending several conferences out of state and jetting off to Disney World with the family, I have spent countless hours in airports this summer. I always cart along a book or three for the interminable waits at airplane gates and while flying. I am not alone in this regard; I spy scores of readers in airport lounges and on planes.

Reflecting on why reading is such a ubiquitous activity in airports, I realize that airport reading offers many conditions which reading teachers strive to develop in our classrooms. Perhaps my anthropological observations can impart a lesson or two:

Books do not have restrictions. Low-tech, solid, and without sharp edges (other than editorial), books are the perfect carry-on. Take two—no extra charge, weight limit or plastic bag required. No one cares what you are reading, either.

Time is abundant. Traveling burns up hours of time with little else to occupy you but reading or sleeping. I often read one novel during the outbound trip and one during the return. Luxuriously reading an entire book in one sitting is a rare indulgence.

A wide range of reading material is available. Every terminal contains a bookstore or magazine stand. If you are desperate, check the pocket in the back of your airplane seat. I often find abandoned treasures, although, the copy of The Red Badge of Courage I rescued on my last trip screams summer reading list, not a vacation book!

Books build connections between readers. With little else to draw us into conversation, our shared love for Twilight connects me instantly to the 14-year old boy waiting for the same plane. On another trip, my curiosity sparks an exchange with the man reading Freakonomics two seats over who heartily recommends the book to me.

Reading is a journey of its own. Wedged into a hard plastic seat, desperate to block out the noise of bustling commuters, I find the magical wildlife preserve in my copy of Fablehaven a more enchanting destination than my three hour layover in Atlanta.

If these ideals, promoted by many reading experts, can spring up organically in a bustling airport, why are they so hard to cultivate in a classroom? What blocks the runway and prevents our young readers from taking off?

Posted by Donalyn Miller at 2:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Wandering the aisles of my local Barnes & Noble, I approach a table bearing the sign “Summer Getaway Favorites.” Thumbing through the stacks of paperbacks and new hardcover releases, I see the usual summer fare—fast-paced thrillers from favorite authors like Janet Evanovich and Lee Child, weepy beach blanket reads, and thick historical epics. Summer runs on a different schedule; we savor the slower pace of vacations and the longer days. Juicy like peaches, heart-pounding like theme park roller coasters, lazy like panting dogs, summer books represent everything we appreciate about this time of year.

After selecting a few delectable titles, I continue down the main aisle towards the Young Adult section. What delicious finds await me there? Drawn towards a matching Summer Reading sign, I stroll over to check out the summer recommendations for teens. Lord of the Flies? Bless, Me Ultima? Guns, Germs, and Steel? Siddhartha? These are the hot books for summer? What is going on here? The aforementioned titles are wonderful books, but they stand in stark contrast to the fun, escapist books displayed on the adult table across the bookstore.

Nearby, a gangly boy of about sixteen picks through the stacks, finally selecting Kate Chopin’s The Awakening, a tragic novella about a woman who is trapped by the social confines of early 20th Century society (definite chick book). I cannot hold back my curiosity, blurting out, “Are you sure that’s the book you want?”

Something in my demeanor must look motherly (or teacherly), he does not move away from me like I am a weirdo. He sighs, telling me, “It is on my school’s summer reading list and it looks short.”

“Summer reading list? Your school has a summer reading list?”

The boy continues, “Yeah, we have to read four books off the list over the summer and take tests on them when we go back to school.”

I discover later that Barnes & Noble, responding to demands for such required reading list books all summer, puts the most requested ones on a special table for this purpose.

Checking my new acquaintance’s list, I encourage him to take Lord of the Flies, instead. He marches over to the checkout line, clutching just the one book, and I wonder to myself how long it will take him to read those four books. He doesn’t seem enthusiastic.

Thinking back to my teenage summer reading days, I would not have been thrilled, either. I would have resented that list because it kept me from reading my own books. I remember lying in my backyard, slathered in baby oil (hey, we did not know about skin cancer back then) riveted by my copy of Jaws, grateful that I lived in a landlocked place.

I learned many skills during my childhood summers--skills I did not learn in school—how to dive, pick a watermelon, pull out bee stings, and read for fun. Hours and hours of reading over my school vacations are probably why I am such a big reader to this day. Freed from required reading all year long in school, summer was when I read what I wanted.

Would you be surprised to learn the number one reason my former students tell me that they don’t read much in middle and high school? They have too much homework. Think about it, these once avid readers cannot carve out any reading time because of the demands of school! The only time they ever get to read their own books is when school is out.

So why do it? Why require students to read specific books over the summer? Why tie school performance to summer reading? It is well-known that many kids don’t read over the summer, perhaps requiring students to read at least a few books guarantees they read during the break. Perhaps our curriculum load demands that we commandeer part of children’s summers in an attempt to “get it all in.”

We suck up their evenings, their weekends, and now their summers, too? Don’t we resent it when our schools do this to us?

We must remind ourselves that readers who leave school and keep reading are those people who discover reading is personally valuable. When are kids learning from us that reading is pleasurable? When does reading ever get to belong to them and not us? If every book students read, even in the summer, is a book they are assigned to read in school, when do they pick up that reading is an engaging pastime, an activity adult readers pursue for fun?

One hundred feet separates the adult summer reading table from the teen one, a metaphor illustrating the distance young readers must travel before reading becomes an endeavor they can exercise some control over. I imagine many falter on this journey and never make it.

Posted by Donalyn Miller at 1:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)