In 2nd grade, one morning in September 1973, I was asked to get up from my desk which was subsequently cleaned out and boxed up in front of the class. I was ordered, “Follow me.” Then, I was escorted back to 1st grade. I had no idea why. When I left, no one in the class laughed or anything. The early 70’s were still part of the Golden Age of school discipline, and you could still get in trouble for acting out. Not a word. Some of the kids probably figured they were next. I was later told that the move was because I couldn’t read and had to “stay back”. Looking back, the fact that I had to go to a tutor over the summer to learn how to say vowels sounds right and to learn sight words might have given me a clue that this was coming. At seven though, I never gave it a thought as I spent the rest of my time building forts, fishing, and causing trouble with my three brothers, cousins and friends. I loved outside. One of my favorite past times was throwing rocks at bee’s nests. School was for fools. I would rather have been stung by bees than be there.
That morning, I was brought to Miss Read’s class. Yes, her name was READ. I was in Miss Read’s class because I couldn’t read. I didn’t get the joke back then. That year, I was horribly behaved. I spent time in the hall, standing in the corner, and inside for recess. My behavior wasn’t isolated. All the stay-backs got stuck in one class. The poor woman. Needless to say, after a year of staying back, despite Miss Read’s efforts, I still couldn’t read well.
Press repeat for the next few grades. Every year, I was in the low reading groups. Every year, I caused trouble. My parents were flooded with phone calls and notes home. Thank God, there were no answering machines or email back then. Good luck getting a hold of them.
Finally, for a book report, I picked The Hobbit to read. I knew it had monsters in it and people died. As a kid, I was a big fan of Where the Wild Things Are (Max had problems too) and thought The Hobbit might be a book that I liked. I worked hard to read it and finally saw the book as a movie in my head. The words made pictures. Reading allowed me to have adventures in an outside fantasy world in my head. I even used the pronoun “we” in the book report as if I was part of the story. And “yes,” I had “we” underlined in red ink by the teacher and lost points. With The Hobbit, I could re-read parts and pretend to be in it. Cool. I got books. After reading the dust jacket flap, I could pick the book, controling who I was with and where we went. I could met anyone and travel anywhere. That is why I read.