READING, WRITING AND BATHING: PERFECT COMBO

We introduced writing in the bathtub and boy did the Grandlove take to it; sort of like a duck to water.  He loved the water and the markers that even worked on the bottom of the tub.  We are big believers that learning can take place in almost any locale, and this proved to be a success.  I just had to share his first encounter with bathtub markers.

99% OF AMERICANS CAN READ: Or can they?

When I was researching where the U.S. ranked in the world for literacy, I found the ranking a bit confusing when the following information is considered. According to the report, 99% of adults can read, but when you examine the data a bit closer, the truth is somewhat disheartening. Thought that I'd add this information on here, since we are in the middle of the census process, and we will be seeing new data from this year's census collection.


National Assessment of Adult Literacy (NAAL)
The US Dept. of Education, Institute of Education Sciences has conducted large scale assessment of adult proficiency in 1992 and 2003 using a common methodology from which trends could be measured. The study measures Prose, Document, and Quantitative skills and 19,000 subjects participated in the 2003 survey. There was no significant change in Prose or Document skills and a slight increase in Quantitative skills. As in 1992, roughly 15% of the sample could function at the highest levels in all three categories. Roughly 40% were at either basic or below basic levels of proficiency in all three categories.

Thus, if this bottom quantile of the study is equated with the functionally illiterate, and these are then removed from those classified as literate, then the resultant literacy rate for the United States would be at most 65-85% depending on where in the basic, minimal competence quantile one sets the cutoff.

The 15% figure for full literacy, equivalent to a university undergraduate level, is consistent with the notion that the "average" American reads at a 7th or 8th grade level which is also consistent with recommendations, guidelines, and norms of readability for medication directions, product information, and popular fiction.

Methodological Issues
Jonathan Kozol, in his book Illiterate America, suggests that the very high figures of literacy may be due to poor methodology [8]. The Census Bureau reported literacy rates of 99% based on personal interviews of a relatively small portion of the population and on written responses to Census Bureau mailings. They also considered individuals literate if they simply stated that they could read and write, and made the assumption that anyone with a fifth grade education had at least an 80% chance of being literate. Kozol notes that, in addition to these weaknesses, the reliance on written forms would have obviously excluded many individuals who did not have a literate family member to fill out the form for them. Finally, he suggests that because illiterate people are likely to be unemployed and may not have telephones or permanent addresses, the census bureau would have been unlikely to find them (and that if they did, these people might be especially reluctant to talk to a stranger who might be a bill collector, tax auditor, or salesperson).

Books: A Sensual Experience

I've written about this long-lasting love affair I've had with the written word, before, but as is often the case I've remembered other things I thought I'd share.

When I was growing up, public library visits were frequent and I was left to indulge any flavor of books my hunger desired. For awhile I read every Dr. Seuss book that I could find. My mom was always practical and she did try to persuade me to read more mature books, but once I showed her that beyond the silly pictures were words whose meanings I had to decipher, she backed off. I was only in the third grade and I did stumble over the words, but when I sat cross-legged on my bed reading aloud, my room filled with palatable flavors of wonder.

Biographies intrigued me, as I wondered how someone would live a life worthy of being recording in such detail. Again, my mother brought me back down and explained that even when there was dialogue, it sometimes was embellished by the writer. That helped me relax, because I sure didn't want to remember every conversation I had to give to the author of my biography. Helen Keller was my favorite biography. That should have been a clue to how my life would take a dramatic turn later on.

Books were honored in our house. No dog eared pages, allowed. Sign your name neatly on the card for the librarian. Return the books on time. Read every day, even if just a little bit.

Now, people are giving up on the feel of the paper as it caresses the fingers turning the pages. Smelling the aroma of a freshly bought book or the musty aroma of the second-hand book that had escaped from your house years earlier. Those reminders of how precious books are, quickly are fading like yesterday's cut flowers. In spite of technology, we must contain to enjoy the experience of paper, thoughts, and ink. Books are treasures for young and old; for rich and poor alike; for city folks to country bumpkins.

Books are the great equalizer. Sit down with someone who loves books and all barriers disappear.

We need books.

We desire books.

More memory treasures

I remember back when I was small watching my brother spend hours with his comic book collection. Glancing over his shoulder, I queried, "How do you know which pictures you look at next?" To my young eye, there were a bunch of boxes and colorful drawings in each and I didn't understand what order I was to direct my eyes.

Being who he was, he huffed,"When you know how to read, you follow the words."

I was now determined to learn to read, so that I could enjoy his comic books. My mom assisted me in this quest, by reading to me everyday and supplying me with those precious Golden Books. One of my favorite books was "Nurse Nancy" because it came with its own small supply of band aides in the back. I also loved "Little Black Sambo", "Pokey Little Puppy" and "Cinderella."

At the time she worked in the stockroom of Woolworth. For those younger than me, let me just say that Woolworth was like a Walmart, only cooler. There was a lunch counter, anything you might need for the house and best of all a toy department that was like a little girl's dream come true.

My mom got to see all the newest toys, before they even made it downstairs. Everything from the upstairs stockroom was moved by way of the conveyor belt. I can still see those rollers and the thick, black rubber mat that slide around them. Sometimes, I even got to push the big red button to make it start moving. It would sort of jump and then the rollers moved the belt in its never ending journey.

On rare occasions I got to go with my mom to her work (now I wonder if it was a necessity or just because she wanted to take me.) I was a social kid and all the people who worked there seemed to enjoy the time I spent with them. At break time we would eat at the lunch counter and I remember the paper straws in the coke glasses and watching the lunch lady make up the toast for the sandwiches. Funny how that same meal tasted better there than at home.

I was happy hanging out with my mom and didn't fully appreciate the hard labor involved with lifting of the heavy cardboard cartons and standing all day long on the cement floor price marking the merchandise. Back then everything had its own price tag, because there wasn't such a thing as bar codes and scanners to read them.

When I was six, hula-hoops were a huge craze and the manager of the store had me demonstrate them in front of the store. I was able to keep quite a few going at one time and for years afterward, my mom would tell that story with pride in her voice. Each time she told the story throughout the years, the number of hula-hoops I spun grew but I never corrected her.

When I first started this writing it was going to be about my love for reading, but somehow it morphed into something else. I know that my love for reading is entwined with my love for my mom, because she encourage my exploring worlds through words. No wonder that I spent most of my teaching years sharing that love of the written word with my students.

I have a tee-shirt that has a funny picture on the front of a lady sitting by a huge stack of books and the words, "There is no such thing as too many books." I totally agree with that, with one caveat, when you are moving there are TOO MANY DARN BOOKS to carry.