The Lilting House Archive

How I (Don't) Teach My Kids to Read

One of the homeschooling questions I am asked most frequently is "What do you use to teach your kids to read?"

I usually explain that I haven't yet had to do any formal reading instruction with any of my kids. I have three fluent, eager readers now, and every one of them learned pretty much the same way:

1) (And so very important, it should be numbers 1-50.) Lots and lots and lots of read-alouds from the time they are teeny tiny. Poetry, picture books, novels, magazine articles, fairy tales, biographies, all sorts of very good, high-quality, literary writing. We read and read and read and read.

51) When at some point I notice the child is beginning to recognize her name and other simple, common words, I pull out our trusty Bob Books.

Read-alouds and Bob, that's how we've done it three times in a row.

The Bob Books, if you don't know them, come in sets of twelve: a dozen small paperback booklings (I just made that up; it means more than a booklet but smaller than a regular book), each focusing on a phonetic sound. Each book in the series builds on the sounds mastered in the one before. But "mastered" makes it sound so formal. We haven't used them in a formal "now you will learn to read" manner at all. We've just read the books together, and it's like the kids can't help but start decoding the text. The format makes sense.

Jane was reading at a crazy-early age, but you have to remember that she spent her toddler years in a hospital bed. We read all day long, for weeks and months on end. Couldn't take her to the playground, not with her low platelet and white cell counts. Couldn't go much of anywhere. But by golly, we could read. Scott would come home from work to find a stack of picture books as high as the sofa we were curled up on: the evidence of what we'd done that day. Lucky for Jane I had connections in the children's publishing world...I don't know how we'd have fed our habit otherwise.

Rose took off at around 4 1/2. Same process: a bajillion read-alouds, and then, in a casual, relaxed manner, the Bob Books. She loved Bob and his pals: that wacky Mac who sometimes sat on Sam for reasons impossible to explain in one-syllable words. And later, the cat and the dog, and that pig! What was her name? Jig? Man, we giggled over that pig.

My mom bought Beanie a whole new set of Bob Books when her turn came around, because Rose had scattered the others. They're such a nice comfy size for tucking into little purses, you know.

Beanie was, I think, about the same age when she got into Bob: four going on five. She was reading quite well by last summer (whew, just in time for the cross-country trip), so that would have been age 5 1/2.

That really is all I've done: read-alouds and Bob. The Bob Books have been the bridge for all three of my girls, an easy, friendly bridge with funny, quaint pictures and silly storylines. They didn't know they were learning phonics. We didn't do any writing or spelling or workbooks at all. We just read the Bob Books together. First I read them to the child, then she read them to me.

It's been so exciting, every time! The thinking behind the concept is that a child builds confidence by being able to read a "real book" all by himself. This has absolutely been the case for my three girls. "Daddy, I read a book all by myself!" Beanie said, I recall, sounding like a commercial. I probably sound like a commercial myself, but I'm being sincere. The amount of text on a page, the number of pages in a book—they were the perfect stepping stones for my kids.

So there you go, that's my answer. We read, read, read, read: read really good books, not Disney fluff. Beautifully written books, books you'd think were over their heads. As long as there was good story in those noble words, the kids have gulped them down.

And then, when the time felt right—which is to say, when it felt fun, not stressful to the child in any way, with no sense of expectation to make them feel anxious or pressured—I introduced them to Bob.

From the Files: Auto Mad Libs

I was visiting Becca's lovely blog, And Together We Learn, and saw there a mention of a game I wrote about at Bonny Glen almost two years ago. I'd totally forgotten about the post, but the game is alive and well—it's still one of the girls' favorite car pastimes. Thanks, Becca! (And I sure do hope your gang is enjoying the read-aloud! Hee.)

The Purple Cow Hula-Hooped Boisterously

This is a game we played in the car yesterday, all the way to town and back. I assigned each of the girls a part of speech: noun, verb, adjective, adverb (one girl had to take two parts in each round). From there it went something like this:

Me:  Miss Noun, what is it?

Beanie: A giraffe!

Me:  Miss Adjective, what kind of giraffe?

Jane: A hungry giraffe.

Me:  Miss Verb, what did the hungry giraffe do?

Rose: It bounced!

Me:  Miss Adverb, how did the hungry giraffe bounce?

Jane: Enthusiastically!

All together:  THE HUNGRY GIRAFFE BOUNCED ENTHUSIASTICALLY!

Wonderboy:  Huh?

In Becca's post, she shares her own car game, which sounds like fun.

While driving we played an animal classification game where they had to tell me if something was a mammal, bird, reptile or amphibian. We talked about the qualities of each class, and did a little with some of the different orders—mostly primate and marsupial. The girls loved this one. We'll have to make this a car time staple.

 

 

A New Season of Brave Writing

I'm passing along the latest Bravewriter newsletter for anyone who may be interested in some fun writing and book discussion opportunities:

The Arrow and the Boomerang are now enabled for automatic monthly deductions.

Brave Writer language arts programs are for busy moms who want to execute their best intentions, but don't have time to craft lessons that tie together dictation, copywork, grammar, spelling, vocabulary, literary style and literature into a neat bow. We use passages from classic novels to teach things like dialog punctuation, spelling rules (and exceptions), the power of an opening hook, the beauty of a well-crafted description, new vocabulary words and grammar conventions.

Language arts shouldn't require a slog through artificially created sentences to "teach a point." Rather, there should be some way to maximize the novels you enjoy to do that teaching for you. An editor I admire once said that the only way to grow in writing syntax (how we put words together) is to sit in a parlor chatting with great writers. I like to picture E.B. White, Ernest Hemingway, Sandra Cisneros, Jane Austen, Laura Ingalls Wilder, William Shakespeare, Bette Bao Lord, Lois Lowry and Charles Dickens all sipping tea together, with me in the center of the group. Unfortunately, most of them are dead. The next best thing is to hang out with their writing... consistently pondering it, copying it, reading it, discussing it.

That's what the Brave Writer Language Arts Subscription programs aim to do!

The Arrow (4th - 6th grade) book list is brand new this year. A sample issue can be viewed here. It's yours to print and use, if you like.

The Boomerang automatically subscribes you to both a forum for the book discussions and the monthly issue, as most of you have indicated that you prefer. (However, for those who wish to receive the digital monthly issue only, you may order these for a reduced rate without participating in the book discussions.)

The Boomerang offers dictation passages, notes and "think piece" questions to help your kids explore the novels in greater depth. Once they've read the books, students come to a specially created forum for kids just like themselves to discuss the "think piece" questions. That discussion is led by me, Julie.

A sample issue of the Boomerang can be viewed here.

The Boomerang's first book for August is The House on Mango Street. We begin discussion on August 13. If you subscribe to the monthly payment plan between now and the 13th, we'll rebate $9.95 of your first month's $24.95 subscription price!

Live honestly, write bravely,

Julie

P.S. The Arrow and Boomerang are now open for registration and subscription. Check out the Arrow (4th-6th) and Boomerang (7th-9th) for more details on year-long enrollment. For monthly subscription information, go to our order page.

The Platinum Package offers The Writer's Jungle and your choice of the Arrow or the Boomerang for a savings of $27.00! Check it out.

Do You Know What an Eggcorn Is?

Via Elizabeth at Charlottesville Words: The Eggcorn Database.

The word eggcorn was coined collectively by the linguists who write at the excellent group blog Language Log. Linguists collect usage examples. Unlike language teachers or the often self-styled grammar experts who complain in the press about the decay of English, they are not picky: the actual, real-life use is what counts, and the most interesting bits — those that might reveal something about how real people apprehend their language — often stretch the received rules of correctness.

In September 2003, Mark Liberman reported (Egg corns: folk etymology, malapropism, mondegreen, ???) an incorrect yet particularly suggestive creation: someone had written “egg corn” instead of “acorn”. It turned out that there was no established label for this type of non-standard reshaping. Erroneous as it may be, the substitution involved more than just ignorance: an acorn is more or less shaped like an egg; and it is a seed, just like grains of corn. So if you don’t know how acorn is spelled, egg corn actually makes sense.

Other examples of eggcorns are:

"for all intensive purposes"

"just desserts"

"here, here" (instead of "hear, hear")

"coming down the pipe"

The aforementioned Elizabeth gets credit for spotting a new eggcorn in common usage, and it is now included in the dictionary: "half-hazard."

Eggcorns are different from malapropisms, which can also be fun to watch for. A malapropism is a word used in place of the correct word, where the substitution sounds similar to the intended word but means something vastly different, often resulting in quite comical sentences. A famous example is the line uttered by Curly of the Three Stooges: "I resemble that remark!"

(The link takes you to WikiPedia, where there are many more examples of malapropisms and eggcorns, including a malapropism that made me laugh out loud: "New Scientist also reported the first-ever malapropism for "malapropism", when, having become aware of his error, the office worker apologized, saying he had committed a "Miss Marple-ism."  No doubt he was thinking of Mrs. Malaprop, the character in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's play, The Rivals, whose comical linguistic errors gave rise to the term.)

So a malapropism is a wrong word used in place of a word that sounds similar, but not identical, and has a totally different meaning. An eggcorn is a substitution that sounds the same or almost the same as a word or phrase—so similar, and making just enough sense, that it often passes into common usage: "blatantly obvious" instead of "patently obvious."

Don't you just love the English language?

Writing Contest for Kids

Calling all young wordsmiths! Children's book author Tabatha Yeatts is holding a writing contest for kids. Can you tell the story behind the picture at that link? Entries due April 1, 2007.

And how cool does Tabatha's book on forensics sound??

Do You Write Down Your Children's Narrations?

Ha! I knew I was being optimistic when I talked about continuing my narration post "tomorrow." My poor little Bean. Still running a highish fever, now on antibiotics. So no long post today, but a kind reader wrote in with a very good question, which I can answer quickly:

When your children narrate to you and you want to write it down for them, how do you go about it?  My computer with at printer is busted right now so no typing...  They just narrate so quickly I hate to slow them down and have them lose their ideas... any thoughts?

Also, how often are you writing it down for them?

 

Answer: I'm not. I don't write down their narrations, pretty much ever. Here's my explanation of that from a Bonny Glen post I wrote last year:

Charlotte Mason recommends waiting until age ten or so to begin asking the child for written narrations. Until that point, all narration is oral. When Jane was little, I did (as many homeschooling moms do) a lot of transcribing the narrations she dictated to me; I printed them out, got her to illustrate them, put them together in a notebook. I know this works beautifully for a lot of people, and I don't want to discourage anyone from doing it if it brings joy to you and your child.

But I'll say this: don't feel obligated to write down your child's oral narrations. Don't feel like you have to make a notebook or else you're not doing it properly. After a year or two of compiling Jane's narration notebook, I realized the whole process had become for us an exercise in creating a product. Jane was beginning to be proud of her notebook, or perhaps "prideful" is a better word; she had seen me show it off enough times that she too began to view her work as something to be shown off, something done for the purposes of impressing one's friends and relations. I was horrified by this little epiphany. Of course it was completely my fault. I ditched the habit of typing out her oral narrations; for a time, I ditched narrating altogether. When we returned to it, it was to the simple Charlotte Mason method of asking the child to "tell it back"—no notebook, no product to display.

What I found that was that in addition to curing our mild show-off problem, this took away the pressure that had turned narration into a burden. No longer was it necessary for me to be prepared to scribble down her words as fast as she said them: I could listen to her narrate with a baby in my arms. And instead of the type—print—illustrate—bind production line, narration could lead to discussion. The whole experience became warmer, richer, and her narrations improved. Her memory improved; her appetite for ideas increased. I'd read aloud, she'd tell it back, we'd chat about the people in the stories and the problems they encountered.

So this is how narration works in our house today. Rose is narrating now, too, and Beanie frequently chimes in, unsolicited. When Jane turned ten I began asking for occasional written narrations.

She is 11 1/2 now, and I ask for about three written narrations a week.

Hope that helps!

Related posts:
Reluctant narrators
Rose's reading list
A CM term (Jane's list)
CM on nourishing the mind
Big CM post

From Charlie Brown to Easy Reader

When I posted not long ago about our passion for the Snoopy CD, a couple of commenters recommended a Peanuts DVD set I had never heard of.

"Have you heard about the recently released DVD This Is America, Charlie Brown; It is eight American History episodes done Peanuts style and it's only $15.00 on Amazon. My daughter LOVES it."

So naturally when I had an Amazon coupon burning a hole on my desk (a searing black hole; really I had to do SOMETHING about it, didn't I?), I  doused that fire with good old Charlie Brown. And wow, wow, wow. We love it. Very good stuff. There are episodes on the Mayflower, the writing of the Constitution, and the history of NASA. Among others.

One thing I've been impressed by is how NOT dumbed-down these shows are. The Constitution one has you listening in on the Founders' debates, and it's complicated, fascinating stuff. Should lawmakers be elected by the people? The Peanuts gang is riveted by the debate, and so are we. Mighty refreshing to see makers of kids' shows assuming the kids actually have functioning brains.

The other DVD set we've been enjoying lately is something I ordered from Netflix. I've been waiting thirty years for this. OK, maybe not exactly thirty, but pretty much since I was old enough to notice that it had disappeared from my PBS line-up. Oh yes, that's right. The Electric Company. They turned it on, and they gave me the power.

Unlike, say, Captain Crunch, The Electric Company is every bit as magnificent as I remembered from childhood. This is where I met Bill Cosby, Morgan Freeman, and Rita Moreno. Also that nice guy with the glasses, and the funny girl with the long dark hair. And Letterman! And commas! And the plumber who has come to fix the sink!

My kids think it's a riot the way I keep hollering HEY! I REMEMBER THAT!!!!!! from the next room. But more than the groovy (oh so very groovy, with those clothes, those hideous orange and brown sets) cruise down memory lane, these DVDs score points with me for their really classy way of approaching reading instruction. It's fun, funny, smart, and simple. Good reinforcement for spelling and punctuation ("Punct-punct-punct- PUNCT-uation! They are the little marks that use their influence to make a sentence make more sense!"), too.

I've been letting the girls watch one episode a day. Beanie has just recently progressed from hesitant sounding-out of Bob Books to honest-to-goodness reading with Henry & Mudge. The Electric Company came along at just the right time to help her make the leap. For example, in episode one, two of the characters have an argument (mediated by Bill Cosby) over whether the letter G says guh or juh. They take turns presenting examples for their respective sides. I'll hear Beanie muttering under her breath, repeating the words the characters say. "Game. Gym. Gum. Large."

Meanwhile, Rose is picking up some quite useful spelling and grammar reinforcement. A sentence appears on the screen (in adorably archaic graphics): "The boy who is sitting is sleepy." A comma drops down from above. (It only wobbles a little.) It plops behind the word boy, and then another comma follows suit, landing next to sitting. Simple and effective, and since this occurs in the middle of an engaging song, the lesson isn't boring.

And that's the first episode, which is clumsier than subsequent ones. The graphics get (a little) better; the commas get less wobbly; the skits get funnier; the improv gets more polished. And the clothes? Even groovier.