An uplifting and encouraging read for parents who struggle with children who do not necessarily share a passion for reading.
A few fave quotes:
But reading suffers when we turn it into a high-anxiety, competitive activity. The process suffers, our kids suffer, and we suffer along with them. I know this, not because I have any expertise in teaching reading beyond my own experience as a parent, but because during the years in which my two children learned how to read, there were many times when my desire for them to succeed strayed into desperation, my hope morphed into obsession, and instead of helping pass on my passion, my resolve got in the way. The magic moments--the ones in which my own love of reading was naturally passed on--came in their own sweet time, through the blessing of being together in the presence of good books and by the grace needed to see each of my children as individuals separate from me. Like so many of the things we do as parents, raising readers happens in bursts of delight and desperation, in the push and pull of digging in and letting go, day in and day out, both because of and in spit of our efforts. (2)
There's such a big difference between reading a book because you have to in order to write a term paper or an editorial report and reading a book because you stumbled across it, selected it, and found that it grabbed you by the shoulders and wouldn't let you go. (6)
Amen, sister!
There are so few times you can say YES to your child without any hesitation or any limits. You can't do it at snack time or bedtime or on a play date or at the grocery store or the toy store or even at the park, where it's not OK to climb up the slide when someone else wants to slide down and it's not OK to stay when the wind picks up and it begins to get dark. Camping or a day at the beach are two activities that also lend themselves to saying YES--YES, you can dig a bigger hole; YES, we can stand here in the water all day; YES, you can stay up late to look at the stars. But most of us can't camp out or hang out at the beach as often as we'd like. We can, however, go to the library and say YES to books...On each visit [to the library], we would take home fifteen, seventeen, twenty books, and pile them at the end of the girls' beds where they could, almost literally, wallow in them. It didn't make any difference that we would never read them all, that a book on extraterrestrial life was way beyond the kids' understanding, or that every once and awhile one of the books would disappear into thin air (under the bed? behind the dresser?) and I would have to pay the late fee or the replacement cost. What mattered was having the experience of abundance. (19-20)
Wallowing in an abundance of books. Isn't that a lovely image?