You should know right away that I peaked in kindergarten. My most distinct memory from that year (1989 or so) is of reading aloud for my teachers and them crowding around, very impressed by my five-year-old skills. You should also know that I don’t like attention. I remember feeling uncomfortable with their recognition, so I purposely stumbled over the word “Pilgrims,” even though I could read it with ease. I don’t remember what happened after that. Nevertheless, the die was already cast. Contrary to my little heart’s wishes not to be abnormal, I was in fact a Reader. Capital R.

What is a Reader? (Capital R?) It’s someone who doesn’t go a day without cracking a book. Who would rather curl up with a novel than watch Netflix or hang out with friends. Who has shelves and shelves of books that cause a giant headache when it’s time to move. Someone who’s already read all of their book club’s picks. Most importantly, it’s someone who needs to read. If you’re here now, I probably don’t have to explain that last part to you.

I would call my family a Reading family, my dad especially. Every night of his life he has sat in the living room, in his “fancy chair,” as the grandkids call it, listening to jazz or some offbeat album he’s found and reading until he’s ready for bed. It’s a comforting ritual for his family, I think. We know where Dad will be each night. He picks books up at yard sales and secondhand stores and usually gives them away when he’s done with them. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve reading with my dad. Patrick F. McManus’ silly, semi-fictional memoirs particularly stand out. But it was always less about the book and more about being with my dad.

Now I’m a mom of four, pushing forty. I have teenagers down to a preschooler. I still read like crazy, but the habit has mostly morphed into audiobooks and eBooks. This distresses me. I saw somewhere once that if you want your kids to read, then read. Let them see you doing it. That certainly makes sense with my dad’s example. The problem is, my kids can’t see me reading a book I’m listening to, and if I’m reading on my phone, I might as well be scrolling Instagram for all they know. I want to do better. Above all, I know that I can’t make them read. And I’ve definitely tried. To paraphrase Regina George, “Stop trying to make reading happen. It’s not going to happen.” That is, it’s not going to happen if mom is forcing it. And it’s not going to be a book mom suggested. At least not for my teenagers. I take comfort in the fact that for all my book-craziness, I do remember not reading terribly much in high school. Between work, social life, and homework, it took a backseat. But it eventually found me again and I know it will find them again, too.

Moody teenagers aside, we also have some ADHD and mild dyslexia in our family and one of the many things I’ve learned through that experience is that not everyone needs to be a Reader. Most people are going to be readers (lowercase r) and that is still a wonderful thing. I’ll keep my shelves full of books that are there for them when they’re ready. I’ll mix the graphic novels my third-grader brings home from the library with Roald Dahl and L.M. Montgomery and Beverly Cleary. (Oh, Ramona!) When my daughter rereads the dystopian series that her friend lent her for the third time instead of the beautiful copy of Little Women I bought her for Christmas, still uncracked, I won’t stress it. At least she’s reading! And I won’t worry over my four-year-old who can’t seem to learn his letters when his older siblings were reading sentences at the same age. Everyone has their own pace!

Of course, above all, I’ll keep on reading. For I, dear friend, am a Reader.

We met Abby and her husband during college, over 15 years ago. They moved into our cul-de-sac with their adorable baby boy and I instantly loved them all. She had been studying anthropology. We watched American Idol together every week (our guilty pleasure) and even started a book club (straight up pleasure). In the years that followed, we shared Thanksgiving meals, outings with kids, and many conversations about pregnancy and parenting. Abby and her family lived for a time on the Caribbean island of St. Kitts. I don’t believe she knows just how much I look up to her and admire her many talents. But she is aware that I’ve been praying we live in the same cul-de-sac in heaven.

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I love reading, I always have. I was the kid you’d find reading with a flashlight long after tuck in and as an adult, if I can find a day to while away plowing through a good book, I’m there! As a parent, when my oldest started to follow in my footsteps, my heart soared. It’s been a completely different road for my youngest, who’s seven going on eight, and just started 2nd grade. While he can read well, he’s struggled to find that sweet spot where he wants to read versus feeling it’s a chore. He’s finally rounded a corner and here’s what worked for us. 

Let Them Read What They Want

In the early years, the rule was to read for 15, then 20, then 30 minutes a night. It was clear that the books sent home with school weren’t super engaging, so I encouraged him to find things or books he wanted to read. He read anything from Highlights, toy catalogs, picture books from his room and even Minecraft instruction books! Eventually this moved into graphic novels and finally onto early chapter books.

Share the Love of Reading

One of my son’s issues with reading was that it was a chore, a homework assignment. He felt that if he could read, wasn’t that enough? His dad and I would share what we read every day—news articles, recipes, travel books, books for pleasure, Facebook! We’d talk about how books could take you to new places—both real and imagined. We’d take him to bookstores, libraries, school book fairs and let him choose books. He’d watch his teen brother repeatedly read the Harry Potter series. We continued to read nightly to him. And we made him read—every weekday—even during the summer. As we worked with him, his confidence grew. The irony is that he didn’t see it!

Find Their Passion

Despite all the books on the bookshelf and watching the rest of the family reading, it was a challenge to find the book or series that really made his heart and mind sing. I reached out to his teachers and asked for their recommendations and based on that, we finally bumped into a couple series that did the trick. 

While he initially gravitated toward the Bad Guys series, I don’t love graphic novels for emerging readers—too many made up words and it’s hard to follow on the page what to read next. I also questioned the subject matter. I will make a shout out to Narwhal and Jelly, though. Super fun, but again, lots of made up words. My oldest liked Nate the Great, Calvin & Hobbes and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, but none of those fit my youngest very well. 

In the end, the Eerie Elementary and Dragon Masters series are what lit a fire for him. While he hasn’t finished the Eerie series, he’s still madly reading the Dragon Masters books and already plotting his next series, including tackling Harry Potter! 

His dad and I are thrilled he’s finally starting to see the joy that reading brings. Now that’s he’s truly back in class, he’s talking with his friends about what he’s reading and what they’re reading. What could be better?

This informative post was written by my amazing sister-in-law. She is fully committed to her family, running half and full marathons, her work as a project manager, and introducing others to Beautycounter products. She inspires me on the daily! She is gifted at finding deals on books, and as you can tell, keeps on looking until she discovers the ones her boys respond to best. Thank you so much for sharing your journey and helpful conclusions, Holly!

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I remember the day my five-year-old daughter came racing upstairs, thrilled to announce that she’d read her very first book on her own. What a happy moment as a mother. Although my children are teenagers now, they still love to get caught up in a good book. With truly wholesome literature harder and harder to find, that has become a challenge, but thankfully there are good resources out there to help us find new titles, like the Good and Beautiful Booklist. Otherwise, they don’t mind reading a favorite book over again.

How thankful I am for the wonderful worlds and ideas opened up to us through good literature!

I first met Sabina about 14 years ago through a mutual friend. Life adventures took her to a different state soon afterward, and I did not keep in touch as I should have. But we reconnected earlier this year and I have been so blessed by our communication. Sabina drops everything to help the one in need. Her talents and outstanding qualities are too many to list. She’s the kind of person who makes you question if she’s mortal or an angel in disguise. Either way, I’m so grateful she received, ran with, and passed on her love of reading to her children, then gave us a glimpse of the joy that accompanies it. 

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Growing up, I was always an excellent student but reading was never something I did for pleasure. In fact, it often stressed me out. If we were reading aloud in class I would try to count the paragraphs to pre-read my part before it was my turn. One particular moment in high school, when I nervously read “bowel” instead of “bowl” in front of my class, is burned in my memory. My face was hot as I uncomfortably joined my classmates in laughter at my mistake. I wish I could say I love reading, but I don’t. 

Fast forward 20 plus years and I am the mom of 4 boys. As they grow up, I am hopeful they will all enjoy reading more than I do. Aside from mandatory reading before doing X, Y, or Z, we have found a few things that have helped foster their literary interests.

Bedtime is always a challenge, to put it nicely. However, when we pull up a chair and sit outside their rooms and read for all of them to hear, they often settle in and eagerly listen. It is fun for them to discuss each night what the last thing was that they remembered from the night before, so we can start the book in the right spot. We have gotten through several books this way and need to pick it back up as schedules settle into more of a routine.

My favorite audience is a captive audience. We find ourselves on road trips often and great things happen in the car: car games, exploring the meaning of life, talks about the birds and the bees, and audiobooks. Audiobooks have been a game changer. After listening to one book in a series, my boys are often more likely to pick up the next one because their interest has been piqued. Audiobooks are a great way to introduce kids to something they may not have otherwise given a chance.

The number one thing I have discovered that helps my kids find their own love for reading is to abandon what I think they should read and let them take the lead. We have read books about dinosaurs, natural disasters, world records, fantasy, historical fiction, and of course the occasional book about boogers, flatulence, and how to identify wild animals from their poop. As long as the books aren’t inappropriate and it’s something they will pick up on their own, I call it a win!

I am happy to say, it looks like we are well on our way to having children who enjoy reading more than their mother does! We still implement mandatory reading times, but several of our kids can be found with their reading light and a book after we have said goodnight, and it makes my heart smile.

Misty and I grew up together in the same town. We attended the same schools and the same church. So it was only fitting to find her in one of my university classes, too. Only that time she was the T.A. We delivered babies on the same day in the same hospital. She lovingly shuffled down the hall to visit me that evening. Now we both live about half an hour from our hometown, our husbands work for the same employer, and our oldest boys have enjoyed being in classes together. I love being in the school of life with her and appreciate any time we’re able to get together! Thank you for sharing your family’s reading experiences with us, Misty!

tawnyember

By way of introduction, I am a father, husband, and physician. I carry a lot of titles, but one of the most interesting to date is being an author. I can’t write about my perfect grammar or extensive training in literature because, frankly, I don’t have it. So, how did I become an author? It was a process, and by sharing with you this short narrative, I hope you understand there was a big change for me turning into a book lover. I am willing to bet the same thing that changed the tide for me will apply to your children. 

Let me be clear, if you have a child who doesn’t like reading, I am talking to you. As a generalization, I was that child. I can count up the number of times my childhood included cuddling next to a parent or sitting next to a campfire with a good book without using any fingers, because the total is zero. It wasn’t part of my life. Reading for enjoyment at an early age was a struggle. Honestly, I would pick books from the elementary school library based on the cover or imaginative drawings hidden in the blur of words. My reading time was spent sketching those drawings. It made me an art lover more than a book lover. When the last drawing was copied, the book would sit in the bottom of my backpack until I made the trip to the library to find my next canvas. If the book was lucky, I would flip through the first chapter or two, but it was an uphill battle. I wasn’t the little engine that could, and I didn’t have enough steam to chug over that hill. The last page, the caboose, never had a chance. 

There was a turning point for me on this railroad, but it didn’t come until junior high. I had proudly started this vast new world, leaving behind elementary school childishness, as a blue ribbon accomplished cartoonist. It was no wonder I didn’t understand why we needed words at all. My art could say it. Until one day, a teacher pushed me up the hill. 

I had a great English teacher. I’m not talking about the one that miserably gave me an “F” in ninth grade English because I couldn’t diagram sentences. This one was different. With a smile, he made us read as a class. He patiently allowed us to make errors, giving us the boost we needed, as we each took turns reading a paragraph at a time. Sometimes we got derailed, with my teacher offering mundane prizes for our reading accomplishments. He once offered to show us his James Bond license plate. It was nothing but a plate that read “007,” but I was sure proud to see it. However, the real prize was the book itself. This book kept me tied to the rails. It wasn’t like before. Despite the cover being an uneventful picture of the desert and not having a single image to sketch, I loved it. I never would have considered it a candidate to pick off the library shelf, but because of my English teacher, it was in my hands.

Remember that absent memory of me reading as a child? An image of me sitting in English class replaced it. Initially there was resistance. I wanted to put down the book and draw, but my English teacher wouldn’t let me. He kept shoveling coal into my furnace. Eventually the fire lit, and black smoke, pouring out of my smokestack, sent me racing up the hill. Reading soon allowed the images that I used to draw to come to life in my mind’s eye. I could see what I was reading! The story was gripping. The end of each class period was met with a sigh and seemed like an uneventful interval until the next class period, where we could start reading again. Class after class came until the caboose finally went over the hill. 

In the end, I can’t say I developed a love for reading. It became something much different. My drawings used to take me somewhere. It was a place I could only reach through paper and pencil until I found reading. The words were a railroad crossing that blocked me for so long. I needed someone to read with me to lift the crossing guard and allow me to pass. It was unimaginably powerful. 

I am no English teacher, but I believe reading with your children will have the same effect. I wish I was better at it. If there is one key to being successful, I would keep in mind you can’t just read anything. A book your child doesn’t find interesting can be as boring as reading the microwave instruction manual. Images they conjure of food being radiated at one gigahertz is not going to move the caboose anywhere. For me, reading to my daughter may involve a book about unicorns and all their magical powers or the inner workings of the Minecraft video game. Bless my daughter’s soul. It is what she wants, not what I would choose. She may not know it until a few chapters deep, but that burden of pushing up the hill is on my shoulders now.

Finally, let me answer the question of how I became an author. In short, a lot of reading is required as a training physician. The years passed as I went to school, and the number of medical journals I studied became mind numbing. Academic reading robbed me. It became an educational process, not a means of enjoyment. My special place was lost, and I missed what I once had. Toward the end of my medical training, a sliver of free time was all I needed to start. I wasn’t just writing; I was lifting the railroad crossing, catching a glimpse of the James Bond license plate, chugging up the hill, and drawing the world only I could see. I was going home. 

Check out Brian’s best selling book, William McFadden and the Puzzle Organ.

We were lucky enough to meet Brian and his wife during our college years. We lived in the same neighborhood and I appreciated how kind they were. Brian seemed to always wear a smile, and it’s no wonder. I didn’t realize just how talented, hard-working, and multifaceted he is. In addition to being a father, physician, author, and illustrator, he likes to do stand-up comedy in his spare time! I am reading his book and thoroughly enjoying the tale of mystery and adventure. After I finish, I know my 13-year-old son will eat it up.

tawnyember

I grew up seeing my parents read. My father loved mysteries and my mom was a voracious reader. However, I do not have any memories of my parents reading to me, and only a few memories of my older sister reading beginner books to me after she started school but before I had.

I do have a vivid memory of being a third grader and sitting curled up on one end of our couch reading a chapter book while my mom was curled up on the other end reading a novel. I remember feeling very grown up and feeling a close connection to my mother. Still, I wanted to do things differently when I was a mom.

Sadly, I wasn’t very successful at reading my favorite kid lit books aloud to my girls. There were a variety of obstacles with my first three and it was only with my youngest that we succeeded in reading many books together. But there was one area where I was successful, and that was reading board books to my babies and toddlers. We had a large collection of them and we read and reread them for years. To this day some of my girls can recite Barnyard Dance or Each Peach Pear Plum at the drop of a hat!

In the past few years I have had the opportunity to provide childcare for several babies and toddlers and have also become a grandmother. I never tire of watching these little ones learn to turn the pages and get engrossed in the pictures and try to repeat the words as we read. If we want kids to love reading, it’s never too early to start reading to them!

Pam is incredibly intelligent and widely read. I’ve even heard she has a photographic memory! Many of the board books Pam mentioned are now on our bookshelves with her family name inside. We treasure them just as she did. Pam met my sister Skye many years ago when they were both stationed in southern California. Then Pam and I wound up in the same congregation in Washington. The Earth is vast, and so are the connections we make with others. We are grateful Pam is part of our world.

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