Joanna Gray
Joanna Gray is a writer and confidence mentor.
“No, I don’t read, I’m dyslexic.”
“Read? I can’t, I’m dyslexic.”
“I’m dyslexic so I don’t read.”
After working with school-age children in various capacities for four years I have lost count of the number of children who have given me a variation of the above to explain their complete disinterest in books, reading and education. When Peter Hitchens recently repeated his understanding of dyslexia, namely that there is not clear evidence it exists, he obviously does not need my support, but I wish to lend it nevertheless. As one who derives deep and abiding pleasure from reading, it breaks my heart that so many children are denied its joys, thanks in part to the application of a label that, like Hitchens, I find fraught with uncertainty.
Note here, Hitchens does not suggest that certain children struggle to read, but that their struggle is more related to teaching methods rather than faulty neurology. I would like to add two additional explanations, one following from the other. First, the labelling of a child as dyslexic ensures that they consciously or unconsciously stop attempting to learn to read. Just as when I heard my ballet teacher tell Mum I had an, “elephantine gait”, I rather gave up trying to dance. Secondly, a conscious or unconscious reading habit is then not formed. Why dance if you can’t dance? Why read if you can’t read?
The current thinking is such that once the dyslexic diagnosis has been made, the correct reading materials and support can be given (books in large fonts and a range of coloured films applied to text to apparently make the text stop jumping around). A bit like learning to dance in calipers, reading becomes a laborious chore not a pleasure.
“But why do some children find learning to read hard – there must be something wrong with them?” asks my husband peering over a copy of our son’s Phoenix comic. “Because learning to read is hard,” I explain slowly. “Goodness me, have you forgotten how hard it was to get the boys to read… the boredom of Peter and Jane and Janet and John that Mum got down from the attic and those awful Biff and Chip books that school provided?” My husband gave a visible shudder of memory. If you think those books are dull, just wait until you see the dyslexic offering. And I’ve never understood the vogue for teaching reading via graphic novels – the fonts really are too complicated and jumbled to get a handle on.
It is very unusual however that any dyslexic child is fully unable to read – a certain level of literacy is gained from the captions on TikTok and Insta, and most primaries do a good job of the whole phonic business. Full-illiteracy, dyslexic or not, is mercifully rare. What I think is interpreted to mean dyslexia today is an inability of a child to easily and enjoyably read long swathes of text. There is something intimidating about those great chunks of words, in a way that Victorian copies of the Times look impenetrable to me. And this is the second point that is relevant to the dyslexia issue: in addition to the application of synthetic phonics, what is required to really make the reader read with ease is, drum roll: persistent and regular reading of good books, initially out loud and then silently. It is this habit that is just as important as the initial teaching of ‘cat’, ‘mat’, ‘sat’, etc. Daily reading out loud in class and at home. Every day. Good books that have great plots that eventually the child will want to read on his or her own. And for the teachers and parents this relentless commitment to reading can appear to be a fruitless endeavour because the child is dyslexic and therefore can’t read. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that.
While I cannot claim to have turned any dyslexics into enthusiastic readers, I have got them reading more than they realised they could. I always pretend I’ve forgotten the coloured filter and initially use a ruler to help break up the block of text, then my finger, then their finger, then just out loud and then in their heads. The simple act of my saying to them “You are a terrific reader” always spurs them on to do more reading. I am always delighted with their surprise when they realise they can actually read fluently. My second tip is to read good books to them, classics with nice characters and a plot that rattles along well: The Animals of Farthing Wood is reliably good for younger teenage girls and boys, and Charlie Higson’s peerless Enemy series for teenage boys and abridged classics like Heidi and The Secret Garden for girls.
And on that note, I am going to curl up with a good book…
This article was originally published by the Daily Sceptic.
