Readin'

I wrote the following for a little newspaper editorial column, some time back, but was inspired to post it here after reading this report of a study by the NEA on reading.

I have learned something astonishing: a person can read something, even under the pressure of reading aloud to peers, and not comprehend it. What must be happening is roughly equivalent to sounding out notes but missing the whole song.

This has happened frequently in my class. Initially, I just worried that I was assigning too much homework. It seemed people could just be coming off of a reading assignment, even a small in-class one, and when tested, they demonstrated no more knowledge of the work than would someone who had never read the material! That led me to critiquing my test, assuming that surely the fault must be my own. Was I asking for something too obscure? Were my questions too vague? I even adapted an assignment where I had students raise their own questions over a current reading—I would compile the questions, issue them as a comprehension test and--? Remarkably, even on questions they had generated themselves, the scores were less-than-flattering.

A few who know this column might attribute such a curiosity to the student body of a community college…this was, however, happening in a 400 level engineering course I taught at Kansas State University some time back.

At my present institution, I’ve gone to more in-class, out loud readings. I often model these myself, to demonstrate good inflection and delivery. I may even assign a reading for students to do at home before they are to be read aloud, hoping that their practice would make for improved in-class performance. Sadly, all-too-often what is read sounds as if it is coming from text-to-speech conversion software.

What has happened to our state of education when college students cannot comprehend what they are reading? Is it because the textbook dzn’t rd lk text messaging?

I make an effort to explain to everyone just how complicated our system of communication is. I teach them to realize that we are straining to put thought into words; then these written words are merely sound symbols organized in a way to reflect speech patterns and phonemes we all agree on in a given language. I advise them that there are discrepancies in spelling—this happens any time a language has more sounds than symbols. I demonstrate that punctuation is underrated by sharing two nearly identical texts punctuated differently and thus generating completely different messages. I generally attempt to prime the pump on an assigned reading by issuing thought questions or some other motivational trickery to get them to be attentive readers.

None of the above really matters, for the most part. People read what they are interested in, and at the college level, I often doubt we can force active, attentive reading skills on anyone. This is a pity, for students miss out on some exposure to keen ideas (even when reading aloud to class, they often miss the point). What I find even more defeating is when a student reads his/her own work aloud with the same lackluster, mindless monotone. It’s as if all the personality were extracted from the work read and from the soul of the reader.

I personally find reading to be a very special and peculiar enterprise. I experience it as an act of voyeurism—as a reader, I’m processing whatever the writer put into print…I’m seeing into his/her mind. I approach reading as vicariously experiencing whatever the writer put forward, whether it’s a swashbuckling adventure or a diatribe on teen drinking.

Too often, I find people are reading merely as a task. They are reading every word, but they are only doing so as a chore and with the sole objective of getting to the other side, the end of the chapter. When executed in this fashion, yes, they have laid eyes on every word, but they have not contextualized nor applied those words to any cognitive hooks in their heads. Reading is, from my vantage point, an associative skill. That is to say, one learns by associating new ideas to ones already on file in the mind. When either the mind has empty file cabinets or the mindset of the reader is muddy and less-than-eager to make associations—to say nothing of the myriad distractions surrounding us when making the transaction—then comprehension is forfeited.

In the days before print media, retention and comprehension were accomplished in two potent ways: story telling and song. While my students cannot seem to make heads nor tails of Jonathan Swift, they can decipher and repeat back endless rap lyrics. Those lyrics are memorable because they are rhythmic and because their content has some immediate relevance to the listener. They bounce off my deaf ears in the same way an audio rendition of “A Modest Proposal” might be largely missed by my students. When a message is wrapped in a parable, or for modern audiences, a movie, then it may likely be remembered and better understood.

Chalk it up to laziness or apathy. I will not again point the finger to multi-media making us into passive consumers of information. I will offer this, however: we need to reclaim the art and skill of reading. We need to press it, practice it, and promote it. I am seeing enjoying the written word fade from prominence in my own little lifetime. Some day it will be an antiquated luxury to engage one’s imagination in the written word. It may be likened to making one’s coffee from grinding one’s own beans or harvesting produce from one’s own garden. Why bother, when we can get it all canned?

Why indeed.

Behold!
Changes in punctuation can complete invert meaning:

Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we’re apart. I can be forever happy—will you let me be yours?
Gloria

Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind, thoughtful people who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me. For other men, I yearn. For you, I have no feelings whatsoever. When we’re apart, I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?
Yours,
Gloria