I was only three years and four months old when I dragged a brand-new copy of Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel up into my mother's lap. She later claimed she had been reading her own books to me from the time I was a mere lump above her mons venus.
Soon's I appeared, she read to me. She claimed that reading calmed me, drew my attention to her rhythmic voice. Said I rarely cried, so long as she read to me.
YEAH! But exactly what did she read? I may have been pre-suckled on Romance Novels. (I've always been afraid to ask!) Then again, Mom may have back-washed any budding intellectual snobbism right outa me as she carried me.
I can see the 60-point screaming headline, half-sheet above the fold:
Mom was patient. And persistent. Early-on, she scanned each word she read with her index-finger, urging me to follow the words as they left her lips and found my ears. By the time I was three she scanned words as before, but began prompting me to say the words aloud, as she pointed to each one. Anytime I faltered, she said the word, then I repeated it.
Soon I began building an ever-growing passive vocabulary. The largest cluster of big words I soon learned to read was
Soon's I appeared, she read to me. She claimed that reading calmed me, drew my attention to her rhythmic voice. Said I rarely cried, so long as she read to me.
YEAH! But exactly what did she read? I may have been pre-suckled on Romance Novels. (I've always been afraid to ask!) Then again, Mom may have back-washed any budding intellectual snobbism right outa me as she carried me.
I can see the 60-point screaming headline, half-sheet above the fold:
Fetal Snobbism:
Kaboom in the Womb!
Mom was patient. And persistent. Early-on, she scanned each word she read with her index-finger, urging me to follow the words as they left her lips and found my ears. By the time I was three she scanned words as before, but began prompting me to say the words aloud, as she pointed to each one. Anytime I faltered, she said the word, then I repeated it.
Soon I began building an ever-growing passive vocabulary. The largest cluster of big words I soon learned to read was
Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel
Story and Pictures
By
Virginia Lee Burton
By
Virginia Lee Burton
With that announcement clearly in my head, could my heroes Mike and Mary Anne be far behind?
My mother was an expressive and theatrical reader. Watching her face as she read was fun.
Often she engaged her entire head and upper body as she read. Scary passages might be accompanied by body shakes and rounded-eyes, protective hugs and goodness gracious me's. Funny stuff rolled out of her mouth, accompanied by huge guffahs and shaking shoulders, as she jounced me merrily in her lap.
What can I say? My mother was a ham. She was, I came to recognize, a fully participating reader. She bounced all over the room with me dangling in her free arm. Swung me in dizzying circles, emphasizing important passages. Jolted me with emphatic phrases. Dangled me wrapped around her forearm as she struggled to turn a page. Sometimes, every word occasioned a joyous bounce. Her reading was in some ways a wildly exuberant acting out of whatever script she read to me.
It was also a merry dance of the printed and spoken word.
I now think it was also a wildly exuberant expression of her love for me.
My Mom literally threw me into books.
She read me Aesop's Fables with an air of mystery: "Oh Dear! Robby: What CAN this sly, red fox be doing in the manger? Ohhhhh! Dear me NO!" Whip-whip-zip-snap: she sweeps me up above her shoulders, examines my bottom, delivers a sharp snap with my waistband, and declares: "Nope! Still dry!"
As I bounce down, and nestle serenely into her lap, a delighted grin lights my face: "I KNOWIknowIKNOWIknow: Mommy! Foxy gotta tinkle." BigHugs! Mom thought I was quick and bright. I thought Mom was everything good.
In retrospect, I am astonished I didn't become an acrobat or professional wrestler. But NO! I became an English Teacher. Before I retired three years ago, I'd been a high school teacher, a public school administrator, and a university professor -- for nearly 50 years.
I actually only taught English and theater some seven years. Most of my time as a university professor I taught graduate courses in Educational Philosophy, School Law, and Leadership Theory.
I soon discovered that spinning my grad-students over my head and bouncing them off the walls was too dangerous and tiring to continue. Could be the old utterance "a teacher teaches as s/he was taught" may not be entirely true.
Yet, anyone who has ever studied and taught such classes, knows the truth: READING is what we teach. Good teachers on any level read and study, create a wide variety of classroom activities that help small groups of students work together to translate difficult print, and thereby help them convert print into useful knowledge. To do otherwise is irresponsible.
During my career I read and studied nearly all the time. I behaved like that because it was always necessary to update old knowledge, acquire new knowledge, and create new means to disseminate knowledge to my students.
I behaved that way because my mother taught me that reading is PLAY.
Now I'm retired. I'm interested in everything. Learning has long-since become a habit, an entire way of life. A life made real and understandable, and therefore more exciting and joyous.
I leave you with a personal question:
I'll tell you how I do it in The Reader Speaks II.
Often she engaged her entire head and upper body as she read. Scary passages might be accompanied by body shakes and rounded-eyes, protective hugs and goodness gracious me's. Funny stuff rolled out of her mouth, accompanied by huge guffahs and shaking shoulders, as she jounced me merrily in her lap.
What can I say? My mother was a ham. She was, I came to recognize, a fully participating reader. She bounced all over the room with me dangling in her free arm. Swung me in dizzying circles, emphasizing important passages. Jolted me with emphatic phrases. Dangled me wrapped around her forearm as she struggled to turn a page. Sometimes, every word occasioned a joyous bounce. Her reading was in some ways a wildly exuberant acting out of whatever script she read to me.
It was also a merry dance of the printed and spoken word.
I now think it was also a wildly exuberant expression of her love for me.
My Mom literally threw me into books.
She read me Aesop's Fables with an air of mystery: "Oh Dear! Robby: What CAN this sly, red fox be doing in the manger? Ohhhhh! Dear me NO!" Whip-whip-zip-snap: she sweeps me up above her shoulders, examines my bottom, delivers a sharp snap with my waistband, and declares: "Nope! Still dry!"
As I bounce down, and nestle serenely into her lap, a delighted grin lights my face: "I KNOWIknowIKNOWIknow: Mommy! Foxy gotta tinkle." BigHugs! Mom thought I was quick and bright. I thought Mom was everything good.
In retrospect, I am astonished I didn't become an acrobat or professional wrestler. But NO! I became an English Teacher. Before I retired three years ago, I'd been a high school teacher, a public school administrator, and a university professor -- for nearly 50 years.
I actually only taught English and theater some seven years. Most of my time as a university professor I taught graduate courses in Educational Philosophy, School Law, and Leadership Theory.
I soon discovered that spinning my grad-students over my head and bouncing them off the walls was too dangerous and tiring to continue. Could be the old utterance "a teacher teaches as s/he was taught" may not be entirely true.
Yet, anyone who has ever studied and taught such classes, knows the truth: READING is what we teach. Good teachers on any level read and study, create a wide variety of classroom activities that help small groups of students work together to translate difficult print, and thereby help them convert print into useful knowledge. To do otherwise is irresponsible.
During my career I read and studied nearly all the time. I behaved like that because it was always necessary to update old knowledge, acquire new knowledge, and create new means to disseminate knowledge to my students.
I behaved that way because my mother taught me that reading is PLAY.
Now I'm retired. I'm interested in everything. Learning has long-since become a habit, an entire way of life. A life made real and understandable, and therefore more exciting and joyous.
I leave you with a personal question:
How have YOU made PLAY out of your life's WORK?
I'll tell you how I do it in The Reader Speaks II.
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