The endangered bookworm: Are children reading less?
The Endangered Bookworm: Are Children Reading Less? When I think of a bookworm, I picture a child who packs a book in their bag “for just in case”, or a child who reads by torchlight long after lights out, or a child who doesn’t hear their parents’ request to set the table because their nose is buried in a book. When last did you see a child reading like this (outside of the narrow confines of school reading)? Is the book worm just another name on our soon-to-be-extinct list? Will the sight of children immersed in a book on a park bench, or in a restaurant, a busy shop or in a waiting room become a rarer and rarer sight?. Research has definitely shown that children are reading less today than in the past. Research by the National Literacy Trust indicates that in 2019 only 53% of children read for pleasure, which is down from previous years.Recent studies such as the Scholastic Kids & Family Reading Report (2023) shows that children’s reading enjoyment, frequency and sense of importance declines with age. So what is threatening the bookworm? Digital distractions: The rise of smartphones, tablets and digital media competes with traditional reading and ways of consuming stories. Time constraints: We’re all busy, kids too. Busy schedules and extracurricular activities leave little free time for leisure reading. Changing interests: there is an ever-expanding menu of entertainment options It’s much more likely that we see children’s faces immersed in the world offered by smartphone or tablet screens: games, scrolling, texting, watching. So if bookworms are slowly becoming extinct, is that not just the inevitability of evolution, of one form of media taking over from another? This is true and there are many ways in which screen-reading has added to our reading habits rather than taken away, but screen-reading does not foster deeper reading skills. Our screens are packed full of meaningless distractions that we do not need to resist when reading a book. Screens offer that buzz of instant, effortless novelty – one YouTube short or Instagram reel quickly becomes a powerful current of ceaseless new content that washes away our attention. Children are reading less and in this environment, we do need to rethink our approach to reading and building reading habits. You can follow me over on Instagram for some tips to build better reading habits and get children reading.
How to get lost in a book (new teacher workshop)
How to get lost in a book – Final November workshop! I’m excited to announce that the SA teacher union,Naptosa, will be repeating my workshop How to Get Lost in a Book: Pathways for Guiding Young Readers. It’s designed to equip teachers with a map of children’s literature that will help them navigate into the colourful world of children’s books and in doing so, help them become better guides for the young readers in their classrooms. What are the outcomes? Participants will: -Gain a deeper understanding of what literature for children is -Identify the elements and characteristics of stories for children -Develop a deeper understanding of reading for pleasure -Discuss didacticism vs pleasure in approaches to children’s literature -Understand the role of enabling adult and how to encourage reading -Value and encourage diversity in children’s literature -Gain a stronger sense of direction or reorientation towards children’s literature Who is it for? -South African teachers in the Foundation and Intermediate Phases -teachers who are concerned with the reading crisis -teachers who want to learn more about children’s literature and relevant topics in that field -teachers who want to foreground a love of reading in their classrooms Where do these pathways into the world of children’s literature lead? To adventure, definitely. To far away lands and distant planets. To the twists and turns of an exciting mystery, for sure. But the most important aspect of these pathways is to show children how to “get lost in a book”: that delicious, totally immerse experience where our story and the story of the characters becomes breathlessly close, where the real world recedes for a bit and we completely forget where we are. Why is this important in the context of education? South Africa is facing a reading crisis where more than 78% of Grade 4 children can’t read for meaning in any language. To overcome the crisis and produce readers, we need more than just children who have mastered the basic mechanics of reading; we need children who want to read and who will willingly practice this skill. We need to reconceptualise and centre the pleasure of reading. How do I join? -It is facilitated by me -13 November 2023 15:00-17:00 (SAST), online -It’s open to all union members and nonmembers -Participants receive a 20% discount on books from happyreader.co.za -Click here for more info and to register
“Just a children’s book”
“Just a children’s book” When I tell people that I write children’s books, the response is often “how nice”. Nice like home-made muffins or craft glitter. Or depending on how literary the other person is, there may be an awkward moment of silence, into which a number of unspoken things fall, such as: not a serious writer then. This is not the response of all people of course, but enough for it to take on the features of a pattern. Children’s literature is important in the realm of childhood and those adults charged with raising children: teachers, parents, librarians, but outside of this realm, not so much. Children’s books are more often than not, the add-ons to literary festivals and few literature departments at universities study them. Because they are “just children’s books” after all, lacking the gravitas of “real” literature. Recently, Katherine Rundell’s delightful little book Why You Should Read Children’s Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise, came into my hands. It restored my sense of the importance of children’s literature – not just for children, but for adults too. Rundell weaves together a poignant argument for why children’s literature matters for adults, for why it isn’t “just” a stepping stone to real literature. Through personal anecdotes, the exploration of some classic tales and historical references, she shows very poignantly why the magic of children’s literature is a timeless treasure trove. One we are allowed to and should dip into in adulthood as well. She points out that children’s books are specifically written for a section of society that is powerless – without money, without control and who must navigate the world in the knowledge of this vulnerability. Even as adults there will be times in our lives where we must unfortunately meet this old vulnerability and powerlessness again. Rundell encourages us in these moments to return to the safety net of children’s books, because they offer us hope. “Children’s novels, to me, spoke, and still speak, of hope. They say: look, this is what bravery looks like. This is what generosity looks like. They tell me, through the medium of wizards and lions and talking spiders, that this world we live in is a world of people who tell jokes and work and endure. Children’s books say: the world is huge. They say: hope counts for something. They say: bravery will matters, wit will matter, empathy will matter, love will matter. These things may or may not be true. I do not know. I hope they are. I think it is urgently necessary to hear them and to speak them.” Do you write children’s books? What are your thoughts on the idea that they are “just” children’s stories?
The Contradictory Narratives of Productivity And Rest
The Contradictory Narratives of Productivity And Rest Writing is hard. That effort of forcing yourself to sit at a desk pushing around uncooperative sentences and fiddling with bits of plot that just don’t want to connect properly. Rolling up your sleeves and getting on with it takes a superhuman effort when there are just so many other things to do. Like check Instagram, look up random information on the internet, make a cup of coffee, make a shopping list, give the dog a scratch, decide to do a load of laundry, decide to take the dog out, sit back down and check email, and somehow end up watching funny pet reels instead. I’m sure you know how it goes. We all have a version of this. Much has been said about hustle culture and our much neglected need for rest. Our world, and through that, our lives, are measured by outcomes, goals, deliverables and achievements. We are in a constant marathon against our to-do lists. There’s little space to step outside of that tide of activity and just rest. To embrace doing nothing without feeling guilty. To recognise the deep exhaustion at the end of the day after work, chores, caring for a family and feel in your bones you just can’t, and be okay with it. And yet, I also have to acknowledge that without forcing myself back to the desk, to pick up the seemingly hopeless mess of a story and just get on with it, I don’t think I’d get anything done. The stories would not come together; they would remain a junk drawer of snippets and spare parts and rough ideas. It’s a bit like running – the first few kilometers are the hardest, then it gets easier. Sometimes pushing through the hard beginning is what’s needed. I also know that the more tired I am, the easier it is to get derailed by the funny pet reels and the Google-searches for random and totally irrelevant information, neither of which offer any real restorative rest. For those of us writing in time we’ve painstakingly gathered from all the forgotten cracks and corners of our lives – between work and home, and between the needs of others – it feels even more devastating when we can make nothing productive of these hours. Which all brings me back to the messy space between rest and productivity, between knowing when to put the pen down and when to push through. Being productive depends on rest, on gaining breathing space to recharge our creativity and yet, so much of what we do when we are not being productive is also not rest in that restorative way. As endearing as it is to watch a video of baby ducklings snuggle on top of a puppy, I can’t say I come away from this feeling revived and full of ideas. How do you navigate this messy space between rest and productivity? I write a bit more about my personal experiences of writing and some lessons learned in my more-or-less monthly newsletter. If you are interested, sign up here.
Books Are Door-Shaped Portals (And Children Are Shut Out)
Books Are Door-Shaped Portals (And Children Are Shut Out) The 2023 Background Report from the 2030 Reading Panel was recently released and it made for some sobering reading. Based on the 2016 Progress in International Reading Literacy Study (PIRLS) results, 78% of South African children aged 10 cannot read for meaning in any language. In light of this reading crisis, the purpose of the panel is to bring together respected leaders across different sectors to ask what needs to be done to address this and ensure all children can read by 2030. Again and again, we have been shown that reading is a gateway to academic success in the later years, to a broader understanding and sense of the world, to a functional and active role in modern society, to a choice of business and career options, and yes, also to that magical world that allows us to escape ours for a little while. Every child has a right to pass through this gateway. No child should be kept out. Schools are the gatehouses, built to guide and support children through this portal.The 2023 Background Report makes it clear that for far too many children in South Africa, education is failing them and this gateway is and remains shut. The Reading Panel reports on a Western Cape study tracking learning losses due to the pandemic and shows that if these (at a conservative estimate) can be generalised across South Africa, then we move from 78% of 10-year-olds unable to read for meaning to 82%. If that is not a reading crisis, then I don’t know what is. The report goes on to examine new research around early grade reading and provides a comprehensive look at both government-led and NGO-led interventions in the period of 2010-2022.What stood out for me was the simple answer to the question: Is there a National Reading Plan or a budget for improving reading? No, there isn’t. The most recent “National Reading Strategy” that the government released is dated 2008. There is no national budget allocated for reading intervention currently. Only two national roll-out initiatives can be identified: the Department of Education Workbooks and the President’s Youth Employment Initiative Educator Assistant Programme, which due to lack of appropriate selection criteria, adequate training and mentoring, is more an employment initiative than a reading intervention. The gatehouse is crumbling: of the four 2022 Reading Panel recommendations, the South African government has made no progress at all. As a result, for all of these children the door remains shut. In light of this, I thought I would end this with an extract from Margarita Engle’s beautiful poem Tula [books are door-shaped] to remind us how important it is for all children to have this opportunity: Books are door-shaped portals carrying me across oceans and centuries, helping me feel less alone.
Marketing and content in the age of information (or 6 ways to create more headspace)
Marketing and content in the age of information (or 6 ways to create more headspace) Marketing and content in the age of information (or 6 ways to create more headspace) What does it mean to create content online? As a writer, I struggle a bit with this question. I write books for children but beyond that, there is the expectation to create more, to post on social media as often as possible. The more the better. Regularly, even if you have nothing to say. There are marketing content plans out there to fill those awkward silences. This is what it means to market your book or business, to put yourself out there. Apparently. I don’t know about you, but I find the internet a noisy, crowded place. There are so many voices: the yells of click bait, the quick fix prophets of “5 ways to live more joyfully” (lol – see what I did with my title there?), the vacuous yet insistent news articles that could have been a sentence. It feels like all this content is sticking out its elbows, taking up space and jostling for my attention. And it’s kind of exhausting. This is not to say there isn’t anything of value and substance online. To the contrary, despite this onslaught and noise, there are poetic posts that strike a chord and insightful long form pieces and helpful podcasts and informative websites. The problem is that I find it quite a mental effort to hack through it all to find a quiet clearing to absorb these gems; to really read, to really listen. To really read needs breathing space and a bit of peace and quiet, which, with this frenzy of content production, is harder and harder to find. I’ve realised a lot of this is about headspace: a certain amount of emptiness is necessary for creativity to take root. It’s also about learning to limit the input; to filter, sort, curate. These are the skills I need to practice. Which is to say, these thoughts have formed into the following six guidelines for me: Not all space needs to be filled. Seize those empty moments, don’t fill it with mindless scrolling.Just be. Go for a walk to clear my head of content. Be active rather than passive when it comes to seeking out online content: actively seeking out quality content rather than the first vaguely interesting thing that pops up in my feed. Follow and engage with those people that create the kind of content I like and value. Trust their recommendations. Have a limit on the time spent absorbing online content because it’s exhausting. Rather switch to the printed page and embrace the gentler tiredness that comes from reading that. Give up. Accept you can’t read it all. Accept you will miss things and be unaware and that’s okay. So, my point is simple: less is more. Quite a while back I stopped posting things if I didn’t feel like I had anything to say or share. This used to make me feel as if I was doing “being an author” all wrong. To be successful, authors were supposed to post frequently, loudly and use their elbows more. This year, I think I will let go of that. What do you think?
How to get lost in a book: A new teacher workshop
“How to get lost in a book” – A new teacher workshop I was approached by the South African teacher union, Naptosa, to create a workshop on reading and children’s books for their members. This presented the perfect opportunity to weave together my passion for children’s literature, and getting people to understand the importance of reading for pleasure. In my mind began to form a landscape of children’s literature; I saw teachers as guides with the map of this landscape held firmly in their hands; the more familiar they became with this landscape, the more pathways and trails were available to the children in their classes as they set off across this exciting (and sometimes daunting) landscape. Where would these pathways lead? To adventure, definitely. To far away lands and distant planets. To the twists and turns of an exciting mystery, for sure. But without a doubt, I knew that the most important aspect of these pathways was to show children how to “get lost in a book”: that delicious, totally immerse experience where our story and the story of the characters becomes breathlessly close, where the real world recedes for a bit and we completely forget where we are. Why is this important in the context of education? As we move further away from the magical experiences of early childhood reading (or perhaps we never experienced those at all), reading becomes functional – a tool for learning, a foothold for reaching a goal. It’s no wonder we lose our way and forget how to really get lost in a book. Last year, Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka convened the Reading Panel in the wake of the PIRLS 2016 results that showed 78% of Grade 4 learners in South Africa could not read for meaning in any language. The aim of the Panel is to address this challenge by 2030. In this context of a reading crisis, it is vital to examine our ideas and conceptions around reading in order to contribute to the solution. To produce readers, we need more than just children who have mastered the basic mechanics of reading; we need children who want to read and who will willingly practice this skill. How to get lost in a book is a short workshop designed to equip teachers with a map of children’s literature that will help them navigate back into the world of children’s books and in doing so, help them become a better guide for the young readers in their classrooms.
Escaping a reading slump: 10 tips
Escaping a reading slump: 10 tips Even children who love books hit reading slumps. Reading suddenly becomes an effort and ceases to bring joy. Other things like Netflix or gaming or Pinterest seem so much less effort and offer a welcome distraction. With every book started and tossed aside, the frustration grows. As parents we may be watching this anxiously and wonder if they will ever read voluntarily again! And this is the situation for children who like reading, let alone the ones who need a certain amount of encouragement at the best of times. As parents we want our children to be readers, after all, it’s good for them. How we respond to their reading slumps is therefore crucial. Rather than mirroring their frustrations by forcing them to finish a book as if it were an unsavoury vegetable on their plate, the situation calls for a gentler approach. Forcing children to read is more likely to have the opposite result to the one we want. It’s also good to remember that reading slumps are part of a reader’s life, in fact, are part of being a reader. Our reading paths have their hills and rocky slopes that will make us wonder why we don’t rather just reach for the remote. Any reader knows this from personal experience. I like to return to Daniel Pennac’s passionate defence of reading for pleasure, “The Rights of the Reader” as a trusted guide for how to deal with a reading slump. Rights 1 (the right not to read) and 3 (the right not to finish a book) apply directly and definitely should be respected. He reminds us that there is nothing wrong with not reading, “Most readers exercise the right not to read on a daily basis. Given the choice between a good book and a bad TV show, the latter wins out more often than we care to admit. Nor do we read all the time. Bouts of reading are often punctuated by long periods of abstinence.” The point is, it’s okay. Our children follow their own reading paths that will meander through these rocky patches of not reading. What is perhaps more important is how can we as adult caregivers entice them gently to keep trying to find that one book that will guide them out? So, to answer that question, here are ten suggestions for how to get out of a reading slump: Revisit an old favourite: Sometimes we find comfort in the familiar. Reread a tried and tested book that you know makes you feel good (even if you don’t finish it). Join or start a book club: Talking to others about books can be the inspiration you need to get started again. Find somewhere exciting to read: A change of scenery can change our perspective and mood; build a fort, have a picnic in the garden or park, hide away somewhere, read by torchlight under the covers. Try an audiobook: The same amount of story for less effort. This might just be the steppingstone you need to get you out of the slump. Reorganise your bookshelf: By colour, by author, by genre – whatever takes your fancy. Just being around your collection can be a boost, plus you never know what unread treasures you might find. See it, then read it: Sometimes watching the movie can inspire you to read the book. Read a poem: Why not start small and short to reconnect with words on the page? Try a graphic novel: This can be a great way to switch it up in terms of what a story looks like. Stories come in all shapes and sizes after all. Log off and schedule reading time: We all know the internet is the black hole of time, so why not plan short, manageable chunks of time to spend where you pretend the internet doesn’t exist. Write instead: If you can’t find the story you want to read, write one instead! Have fun with characters, settings and plots and see where it takes you. Good luck! If you would like to download these suggestions in an illustrated poster format, click here or on the button below. Download Reading Slump Poster
Why books in the mother tongue matter
“Aahrr! Aahrr!” Why books in the mother tongue matter For children to really fall in love with reading, they need to hear stories in their home languages. They need to see themselves, their lives and their languages in the pages of a book. That is why I am super proud to be part of the Wimpy South Africa-Ethnikids “Our Stories Your Language” collaboration. My book, The Hadeda And The Storm, is one of five books that has been translated and is available in all 11 official languages. South Africa faces a critical shortage of children’s books that are available in indigenous languages, which can present itself as a big barrier to being able to enjoy relaxed reading time. Especially in the younger years, these books are not just stories, but become pathways into the wonderful world of reading. While there has been a strong push for “English first” in education in South Africa (for a myriad of complex practical and ideological reasons), this contradicts research that mother tongue education, especially in the early years, provides a more solid foundation for academic success later, as well as for the learning of additional languages. For example, Taylor and von Fintel (2016) show that having a solid foundation in the mother tongue actually leads to better English acquisition in later grades. Acquiring literacy in the home language not only helps the learning of the additional language later on, but importantly, gives children a sense of pride in their heritage and identity. Having books available in these languages is therefore an essential ingredient! Knowing that The Hadeda And The Storm can be enjoyed by children in their home languages makes me very happy. I also LOVE how the (annoying and noisy) cry of the hadeda was translated into the different languages, don’t you?! (See the picture above and be sure to click on the “Our Stories Your Language” link to check out the other amazing books available too!)
Why White People Should Care About Diverse Children’s Literature
Why White People Should Care About Diverse Children’s Literature The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu coined the phrase “rainbow nation” to describe South Africa, and we sure are a melting pot of languages, ethnicities, religions, cultures, beliefs, lifestyles etc. To look around, certainly in urban areas, is to see diversity. To look around at shelves of children’s books, less so. In fact, if we were to broaden our view to include toys, the people on the covers of games, the kinds of pictures printed onto puzzles, the world suddenly becomes a lot less colourful. Not really a rainbow then. It is this reduction to that which is bland, monochrome and disconnected from our context that interests me. The value of children seeing themselves, their lives and their contexts reflected in the pages of a book is incredibly validating. It also provides a welcoming bridge into the world of books and literature. It says, “you belong here”, and what could be more empowering than that to a young reader? The idea that books are “windows, mirrors and doors” was first expressed by Dr Rudine Sims Bishop in 1990. It remains a relevant way of understanding why multicultural literature is important, regardless of race. Books are not only windows through which a child can observe a world different to their own but can also become a doorway through which they may enter that world and immerse themselves in a completely different kind of life. These two aspects are central to developing understanding, tolerance and empathy towards a diverse and colourful world. These are also essential life skills that we all need and should care about developing. Bishop also points out that, when the lighting conditions are just right, windows can become mirrors, reflecting our world back at us. It is here where literature gears into an important tool for self-affirmation and identity-making. When a child casts about, searching for a reflection of themselves and finds none (or only a thin, insubstantial or inaccurate one) the message is clear: who you are doesn’t matter enough to belong in books. We should care deeply about any child receiving such a message because books and stories have such a powerful impact on us and our understanding of the world. To a certain degree, when the melting pot of South African children casts about for stories that reflect their lived contexts, they find only a monochrome version of life and characters that largely exclude South Africa and, more broadly, the global South. We don’t often see the rainbow nation reflected in the pages of a book. Missing are the hustle and bustle of South African cities, the traders, the taxis, the people making their living in a myriad of innovative ways; absent are our divisions of space, of rural and urban divides; there are school-shaped holes into which our traditions and ways of operating fall; left out are our folktales; omitted are what we eat and how we celebrate; forgotten are our problems and our issues – the threads to unknot those never make it onto the page. English children’s literature is dominated by stories from North America and Europe, and while a white, middle-class child in South Africa will certainly see much that is familiar in this mirror, it is not an accurate representation of their lived contexts where they exist as one small part in a bigger, more colourful whole. In addition, so much local richness is missing. Where are the stories about Christmases spent dangling feet into the pool, where the lights are wound around a palm tree, where families gather around a braai outside on the veranda? This may seem an insignificant example, but underlying this absence is a message that affects the way we look at the world and our experience of it: it’s not a real Christmas without snow. Even diverse books from up North depicting children of colour don’t necessarily reflect our landscape and reality. After all, being South African (or African for that matter) deserves its own story. So why should white people care about multicultural children’s literature? Quite simply put, we are poorer without it, our world is reduced, the colour is erased, the reality of a diverse and complex world is not reflected. The blinds come down over the windows, the doors shut and our reflections in these mirrors either confirm what we already know or distort and don’t quite fit. In essence, the rainbow fades.
