How I Learned to Love Reading

Is this how to fix the crisis in reading?

Among the pundit class, there’s been much wailing and gnashing of teeth over the decline in reading. It’s especially alarming among young people—so much so that teachers are increasingly reluctant to assign entire books in high school (or even college).

The students simply won’t read them. Or maybe they can’t read them.

This chart has been widely shared, and it tells a sad story. Reading during leisure time among teens isn’t just declining. It has collapsed.

Source: Financial Times

I’m fretting over this too.

And it’s forced me to revisit my own childhood and teen years—and recall how I learned to love books and reading. Maybe there are lessons there for parents and educators today.

And I want to emphasize the love part. That’s even more important than pedagogy and test scores. Unless a child develops a real affection for reading, all the teaching in the world will fall short.

That was definitely true in my case.

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When I was very young, my mother worked as a telephone operator for AT&T. This meant that I was often watched over by babysitters. I have sad memories of most of these experiences—I missed my mother when she was at work, and no caregiver could take her place.

But there was one babysitter I adored—because she read stories to me. This is the only lasting happy memory I have from my childcare experiences. But it’s a delightful memory.