I was the kind of kid that summer reading programs were made for. It took nothing more than a little competition (a challenge to see who could read the most) to turn me into a library regular.
I was the kind of kid that summer reading programs were made for. It took nothing more than a little competition (a challenge to see who could read the most) to turn me into a library regular.
I came to love the written word so much that I can't recall ever wanting to be anything but a writer or to work at a newspaper or for a publisher, and over the years, my enthusiasm doesn't seem to have waned.
Sadly, according to an Associated Press poll, one in four adults read no books at all last year. Twenty-five percent did not crack open a cover. The same poll reported that the average adult reads only four books per year.
While I suppose I should savor being above average for a change, this is one area where I'd rather have lots of company. Especially in my own home.
My husband makes his living writing, editing and teaching writing, so it's not surprising that he's a voracious reader. He can wander the aisles of a bookstore for hours. The range of his curiosity is immeasurable.
Not so with my girl, who recently decided reading is "nerdy." Her blade cut deep. How could a child who has been surrounded by books since birth, who has been read to and written with, whose monthly Scholastic book orders occasionally threatened to reach car-payment levels, suddenly declare reading to be the height of not cool?
I'd have been less shocked if she'd come home with a barbed-wire tattoo and multiple piercings.
Celeste has always read (and seemed to enjoy reading) the books assigned to her by her teachers, but nothing has lit the fire that would have her reading for pleasure or curiosity. I keep hoping she'll stumble across the one that gets her hooked. I thought she'd found it last spring, when she tore through "The Giver" by Lois Lowry, loving it so much that she made us read it, too. But her fervor soon faded, and we've not found another that enthralled her that way.
I was the kind of kid that summer reading programs were made for. It took nothing more than a little competition (a challenge to see who could read the most) to turn me into a library regular.
I came to love the written word so much that I can't recall ever wanting to be anything but a writer or to work at a newspaper or for a publisher, and over the years, my enthusiasm doesn't seem to have waned.
Sadly, according to an Associated Press poll, one in four adults read no books at all last year. Twenty-five percent did not crack open a cover. The same poll reported that the average adult reads only four books per year.
While I suppose I should savor being above average for a change, this is one area where I'd rather have lots of company. Especially in my own home.
My husband makes his living writing, editing and teaching writing, so it's not surprising that he's a voracious reader. He can wander the aisles of a bookstore for hours. The range of his curiosity is immeasurable.
Not so with my girl, who recently decided reading is "nerdy." Her blade cut deep. How could a child who has been surrounded by books since birth, who has been read to and written with, whose monthly Scholastic book orders occasionally threatened to reach car-payment levels, suddenly declare reading to be the height of not cool?
I'd have been less shocked if she'd come home with a barbed-wire tattoo and multiple piercings.
Celeste has always read (and seemed to enjoy reading) the books assigned to her by her teachers, but nothing has lit the fire that would have her reading for pleasure or curiosity. I keep hoping she'll stumble across the one that gets her hooked. I thought she'd found it last spring, when she tore through "The Giver" by Lois Lowry, loving it so much that she made us read it, too. But her fervor soon faded, and we've not found another that enthralled her that way.
When I heard about First Book's "What book got you hooked?" competition (www2.firstbook.org/whatbook), I went to the site hoping their list of favorites might spark some ideas. (The site is hosting a competition where they'll award 50,000 new books to the state that gets the most votes. West Virginia placed third last year, and is currently third again this year, with less than a month to go before ending.)
I skimmed the voter favorites and saw some titles that would've made my own list ("Put Me in the Zoo" by Robert Lopshire, "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak, "Charlotte's Web" by E.B. White), but I wasn't sure what might strike the fancy of my fickle 11-year-old. She's at that age where so many books seem too young and others seem too mature.
To me, reading is every bit as important as a healthy diet, doing homework and getting enough sleep. But it seems wrong (and it may be counterproductive) to force a child to read.
My 13-year-old niece, Madeline, is a ravenous reader. When she visited this summer, she brought a duffel bag filled with novels. Since Celeste looks up to her cousin, I hoped she'd catch the book bug, but I think she's immune.
My husband and I read all the time. Seeing one of us with a book is a daily event. But apparently, we're the epitome of not cool. How does a parent battle the not cool factor?
It's a shame the Kindle, Amazon's electronic wireless reading device, is still so expensive ($359) since that kind of technology might be what it takes for her to view reading as cool. But until they become more affordable, we're considering canceling our cable. If her entertainment options are diminished, she might rethink her opinion that reading is for nerds.
Karin Fuller can be reached via e-mail at karinful...@cnpapers.com. Her columns can be accessed easily online through her blog at thegazz.com.
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