“I don’t mind if my kid doesn’t read in kindergarten,” I thought to myself when I heard about schools raising standards of what they expect kids to know. “That’s so early anyway.”

But my lack of expectations didn’t keep a smile from spreading over my face as we sat with my five-year-old on the couch. Book in hand, I was listening to him recognize short sight words and painfully sound out longer ones. “My kid is reading!!” my mind and heart screamed, like a fan girl at a teenybopper concert. Instead, my mouth said, “You’re doing awesome, honey! I can tell how hard you’re working on reading.”

My ambivalence towards early reading evolved from conflicting life experiences.

I started reading when I was only three years old; I don’t remember not knowing how to. My mom realized it when I read the McDonald’s sign as we passed in the car. At first, she thought I just recognized the Golden Arches. But then she changed her mind when I started reading everything. I’ve been addicted to reading ever since, finding solace in books in times of joy, loneliness, and frustration. Of course, my love of stories also led to my writing career.
On the flip side, learning disabilities also run in our family. My husband has attention deficit disorder and a writing disability. My mom suspects she has mild, undiagnosed dyslexia. It was always a good possibility our kids would have a learning disability or “doubly exceptional,” where you’re both intellectually gifted and have a disability, like my husband.

So I didn’t want to put pressure on my kids to read until they were ready. We’ve read to them since they were babies, but never pushed a formal program or system. If they learned on their own, cool. If they took their time, also cool.
I honestly didn’t expect much in terms of reading progress in kindergarten. He had learned his letters and some sound combinations in preschool, but nothing was really clicking. The first months of elementary school were the same.
But about a month ago, it all started coming together. He was starting to work his way through whole words and even sentences. Those led to short stories and even longer ones. By the second or third time through, he’d read large chunks of early reader books, like Mo Williams’ Elephant and Piggie. Some of it is definitely memorization – I know some of the words he doesn’t recognize by sight – but much of it isn’t.

I’m so excited by the world will open up for him. Like a favorite cartoonist of mine stated lately about her daughter reading, it’s like they’ve cracked a code. I told him, “Once you learn to read, you’ll never have to be bored again.”
What’s even better than my pride is his excitement. Instead of only shoving books in our hands for us to read, he invites us to sit with him. He also reads to our younger son, who perches himself on the couch next to his big brother. (Even if they sometimes argue when my younger son wants to hold the book.) When it gets difficult, he stares at the page and just keeps going. He wants to learn to read more than I’ve ever seen him want to learn anything. All of that strong will I normally see in opposition to going to bed is getting put to good use.

I know this is just he beginning. He has many years of building his reading skills ahead of him. Watching him sit on this edge of knowledge, head in a book, I can’t wait to see where he goes next.

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