Forced Reading

Forced Reading

Before I entered kindergarten, my mother, who had been an elementary school teacher, had me read and do arithmetic every day while my brother, four years my elder, was in school. I remember the days sitting at the dining room table. I was only four and my body was still disproportional to the furniture. The chair was too low and the table too high. My easy reader was on the table, and I strained to view it properly from my position. I fidgeted a bit as I wondered why I had to do this. I could hear the dogs outside. I wanted to play with them. I spotted my kitchen set in the next room. I wanted to play with it. My mother was in the kitchen baking something that smelled much more appealing than reading. She must have been looking at me through the pass-through window, as she caught me in my daydream and reminded me that I was supposed to be reading my book. The cat ran away from the man. I made my own story up in my head. The girl ran away from the table. She played with the toys. She was happy.

I suppose, for quite a few years, I was a big disappointment to my mother as far as reading went. It wasn’t that I couldn’t read, it was that I never wanted to, and compared to my older brother, who read a book everyday, I was quite a let down. It might not have been such a dilemma to any other parent, but to my mother who’d taught and encouraged kids to read for many years, it certainly was.

Kindergarten was successfully useless, as between recess and nap time there was only time for coloring, and none for reading or learning of any type. I kept this fact hidden from my mother, though I’m certain she knew as my daily dining table ritual continued throughout the year.

When I started first grade, I finally started to appreciate some of my mother’s work. At the beginning of the year, everyone had to take a reading level test, and I ranked the highest among my classmates. I flexed my reading skills before everyone. I volunteered to read during class. I read to my parents, to my grandparents, to my dog.