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The Mommy Reading Miracle

4/25/2014

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The experts say that it’s important for your children to see you reading. Not just reading to them, but reading by yourself. I would love to make this important thing happen on a regular basis, but my kids are two and four. It’s a real challenge. My own reading takes a backseat to everything.     

Once, though, a few weeks ago on a rainy Saturday afternoon, a miracle happened. My four-year-old caught me reading to myself. Stop the world! This was a first. And I wasn’t even reading a note from his preschool or an email. I was reading a novel. 



Really. 


It was one of those delicious ones that I couldn’t put down but kept having to because I’m a mom. Moms don’t get to read novels during the day and, even worse, they fall asleep when they try to read them at night. I couldn’t wait to see what happened next in this particular book. So I was reading. Alone.

I wish this happened more often, this witnessing of Mommy reading for Mommy, but if I put my eyes on a book of my own during a normal day, that means they’re not on my children. And because my daughter, who has fully embraced being terrifyingly, terrifically two, recently tried to run up the ramp and into a skeeball machine at Chuck E. Cheese and also tried to climb up a ladder while her father stood precariously atop it and also takes every opportunity to ride the dog, my eyes stay on her at all times. She can’t be trusted.

Typically, when my kids are awake, the only reading I’m doing is written by Dr. Seuss or is about Transformers, what dinosaurs do when they have feelings, or a teachable moment with Llama Llama, most frequently when he’s mad at Mama. I’m not complaining. I love these books, even the Transformers ones, because I’ve gotten over it and I love reading to my kids. We read a lot.  

This made my son’s observation of the Mommy Reading Miracle that much more interesting.

The Mommy Reading Miracle happened, I think, because the delightfully devious two-year-old was napping, her big brother was quietly playing, the laundry was done, and it was so very quiet. But I can’t remember exactly how it happened because I was so overwhelmed by the fact that it happened at all.

Anyway, my son approached me stealthily, as he tends to do, and then asked in his suddenly thunderous little voice (which he also tends to do), “What are you doing?”

I jumped and nearly dropped the book because I was so immersed and because he was so out-of-nowhere noisy.  

“Reading,” I replied once I composed myself.

Confusion took over his face. It was as if I’d told him that Nutella was no longer on the lunch menu.

“But why aren’t you saying the words?” he asked.

I’d never really thought about how he thought reading worked. I’d bet many parents don’t. We read to our kids. Then they learn to read with us and at school. The only reading my son ever paid any attention to was the kind that we did aloud to him and his sister. Reading was an out-loud thing.

So I explained to him that when he learns to read and gets the hang of it, he won’t have to read the words out loud because he’ll be able to say the words inside his head as he reads them. He nodded and seemed to get it.

“Like a super power,” he said.

Then he asked me to read his Transformers book.

So much for the Mommy Reading Miracle.

But then I got to thinking. Learning to read really is like a super power. So many things in the brain have to work for a person to learn how to read. So many pieces of the puzzle have to fit. And yet we learn to do it. It’s harder for some than others, but it happens. It’s exhilarating, really.  

Forget a mommy reading a page-turner alone. Reading in itself is the miracle.   

We should all be thrilled and thankful for this super power, out-loud or silent.

I try to remember that as I write, working to craft stories that are worthy of super powers. Kids work hard to learn to read. They deserve it.  

Here’s to writing, reading, smiling, and the occasional surreptitious novel.

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Rhyming and Not Rhyming

4/9/2014

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As a student, I hated poetry. I despised the drudgery of figuring out what a poet meant by that or what some sort of imagery represented. I was intimidated.

As a teacher, I started to love it because I realized that I could make it fun.

I started with 2nd graders, introducing them first to the silly rhyming poems popular with children (Jack Prelutsky, Shel Silverstein, Dr. Seuss) and then some grown-up ones (e.e. cummings, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes). We explored the words and the rhythm and the rhyme and the rules. We examined different types of poems (who doesn’t love a good haiku?) and wrote our own. When I moved up to 5th grade we kept the same recipe but delved a bit deeper and mixed in more complicated poems and song lyrics. (They loved Poe. The creepier, the better!) In both grades, my students made their own books of poetry with bright covers and brighter words and shared them with parents, grandparents, and friends at our annual Poetry Coffeehouse. Each child selected two or three favorite poems and read them aloud proudly, even if with shaking hands. Yes, it was as cool as it sounds, if I do say so myself.

Suddenly, an event with guests and jazz and coffee and juice and pastries and public speaking made poetry pretty cool. It was really, really cool. Even the kids who said they hated it at the beginning liked sharing their nuggets of brilliance at the coffeehouse, nervous jitters aside.

And boy, were those nuggets brilliant.

They were funny. Touching. Meaningful. Amazing.

Exploring poetry with my students gave me a glimpse into their incredible creative minds. Children who struggled with written expression were often the ones who knocked my socks off most. And parents couldn’t believe what they were reading and hearing.

I wish I could take the credit, but all I did was show them a different way of creating, of writing, of expressing themselves. They did the rest. They sparkled. I beamed.   

The beauty of poetry is that there’s something for everyone. Many of my students were hesitant at first because they thought it had too many confusing rules. Others balked because they thought they didn’t know where to start. But here’s the thing: there are rules, but you don’t always need them. Some loved the structure of a haiku or a set rhyme scheme. Others loved the freedom of free verse. Every student had a favorite. Every student expressed his or her unique personality in some delightful way.

With and without rhyme, with and without rules, each and every one of my students communicated something that taught me about who they were. Every one.    

April is National Poetry Month. As a writer, I’m trying to get better at rhyme by participating in Rhyming Picture Book Month, or RhyPiBoMo, as it’s called. (The writing world likes abbreviations. That’s funny in and of itself, I think.) It’s a daily online rhyming boot camp of sorts, and I kind of feel like I imagine my students did – challenged, awed, and a little bit overwhelmed. But I like it.

If your child doesn’t like to write, why not try some poetry this month?  

You can start by reading some. There are so many great poetry books out there. Want to start right away? Writer’s Digest offers a great list of poems for kids with links to each one. Have fun reading them aloud together!

When you’re ready to write, visit Scholastic for step-by-step workshops from some wonderful poets (including the great Jack Prelutsky, who also gives tips for kids in this book). Then have your child try some out independently with fun interactive activities from ReadWriteThink, the website of the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE). Have them experiment with theme poems, diamante poems, and acrostic poems and print them to share.   

Now that spring is springing, spend some time outside. Have your child make observations with each of their five senses and choose words that accompany or describe them. Give them a little notebook or journal to record them. They’ll be well on their way to a fabulous free verse poem. Remember – no rules here!

e.e. cummings was always a big hit in my classroom because his poems so beautifully break all of those grammar rules I worked so hard to teach. I’ll leave you with one of my favorites, appropriate for this time of year. [in Just-]

Happy Spring, happy poets! The world is puddle-wonderful.

Here’s to writing, reading, smiling, and rhyming (or not rhyming – whatever works!). 

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    Thoughts on writing, life, and a smattering of stories.

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    Kelly Hochbein

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