My childhood library was amazing. It was this beautiful, old Carnegie library that had all the hallmarks of greatness--stone stairway, arching windowed front entry--but was still very accessible. In fact, it looked more like a church or a school than the big marble edifice I often associate with Carnegie. But it was my library. And I loved it. It was a sanctuary and a mystery. I would wander the stacks and run my fingers across the old books. I would flip through the card catalogs, deftly finding the Star Trek VHS tape I wanted. There was a rarely used basement area that was essentially unmonitored, and I would sneak down there and lie in the silence to read. Yes, it was a different age.
And then there was the annual Olympic event: summer reading.
I took summer reading as seriously as any Olympian.
So the story goes that one summer, kids had to read books and fill out cards about the books they read. Completed cards went into a box, the librarians scooped them out to tally the totals, and at the end of the summer there would be a prize! This year, the prize would be attendance at a party in the children's library section. At that party there would be a movie! An actual movie played in the library!
(remember, this was the early 80's. It involved a projector and film on reels, so that was a big deal.)
Honestly, there could have been no prize at all and it would still have been a big deal, because contests of this nature bring out my competitive self, where winning is its own reward. What does one win? A hearty pat on the back and the warm glow of victory is enough! But there was also a movie! And the top reader won a book.
I would be that reader, no matter what it took.
And so my summer went. I checked out piles of books and read constantly. I took home a stack of cards each visit, diligently filled them out, and returned them to the library.
But there was no leader board! How was I to know who was winning?!
That was too much of a risk, so I just read. And read. And read.
The end of the summer reading program drew near, and I got an invitation to the party. This was my dream!
I can still picture the party, remember where I sat, criss-
What a colossal let-down.
But that didn't matter. Soon I would find out who won the reading contest. The librarian read her card with the stats on it. And I won! I read 212 books and was the winner!
The runner-up read 19.
Which brings me to the topic of competitive reading, something I know quite a lot about.
There are parts of my job that I do, not because I like to, but because I must. Charging fines is one.
Reading Counts/Accelerated Reader is another.
Truth be told, I loathe these.
Too many times I have seen kids pick a book based solely on the AR/RC value.
Too many times I have seen (or, shamefully, been) a parent discourage a book that is at a lower level or value.
Too many times I have seen these programs suck the joy out of reading and make it just another project.
Too many times I have heard parents lament that their child has poor reading comprehension but has been an RC/AR champ.
Too many times I have heard kids gaming the system, just to pass a test.
At the beginning of this school year, a freshman hesitantly asked if she had to pass a test in order to read one of the Abe Lincoln Reader books. I was aghast. Why would that be the case? But in the middle school, RC is the name of the game. The relief was visible on her face when I assured her that there were no tests in the high school library.
But my heart broke. How many other kids would not even consider checking out a book because they dreaded a quiz?
Now, I recognize that I come from a position of great privilege on this topic.
I have never struggled with reading. It wasn't until college that any text was truly difficult, and those were isolated.
I came from a household where reading was valued and encouraged.
As a child, I owned books, so I didn't need to win one from the library.
My childhood trips to the library were frequent because my family had ready access to transportation and enough disposable income to have the free time.
I had the luxury of doing--and being supported in--many activities and contests, so winning a certificate or ribbon was not rare.
Yet from that place of privilege, I know what I lost. That summer of 212 books, I chose texts based entirely on how quickly I could read them. I didn't savor anything.
My prize wasn't the glory or knowledge or victory; it was the movie. And when that was a disappointment, what did I have? And what about that kid who read 19 books? To know that in order to have a fighting chance, 200 more would have been required? Why try next time?
Which is where it becomes absurd. Because probably the next year, that kid did just fine, read the books, went to the party, and didn't think about me at all.
I don't play games I can't win. Monopoly is a blood sport.
And reading can very easily become one.
But the cost is too great. Reading is too important. Literacy is too essential. These are things that matter Things that change lives. That save lives.
Yet here we sit, wedged firmly between a rock and a hard place, needing to encourage struggling or hesitant readers with programs while not allowing it to turn into a scene from 300. Which brings me back to the dilemma and no solution. I love summer reading programs. LOVE them. But I see all the pitfalls and problems with making it competitive. In the same way, I will do anything to encourage my students to read. If that includes RC/AR? It is better than the alternative, but it seems that there must be some middle ground, some moderate location where kids are encouraged and read because it is fun and useful, not to check a box or take a quiz.
Until I come up with a brilliant alternative, I will continue supporting AR/RC for the value they have, while never hesitating to share my tale of woe, hoping to save someone a summer of hand cramps and paper cuts all to sit through the Red Balloon, knowing that along the way, a wrong turn was taken.
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