Yesterday was Family Literacy Day. To me, literacy day is kind of like Groundhog Day. Every January, writers come out of their dens to do a reading. If they see an audience, then the writers return to their dens for another year of writing. But if they don’t see an audience… well then they give up and do something else. Like maybe go shopping for a big screen TV.
As usual, I headed out to a literacy event – this year in Napanee, Ontario. (Hometown of Avril Lavigne and also a few miles from where my kids lived when they were growing up in the little village of Newburgh.) I received my invitation last summer from the organizer, Jennifer Fitzpatrick who used to be my kids’ teenage babysitter but is now a literacy teacher. Well it turns out that Jennifer and all the other village kids I knew back then aren’t kids anymore. A few of them even came to the event to say hello and introduce their own children to me.
Well, when it came time for my reading, I looked out at all the parents who were hoping their kids would grow up wanting to read. And that reminded me how my mother used to read to me on the big couch in our living room. I don’t think she knew how important it was at the time. I think she just liked reading stories aloud and she knew it kept her four kids quiet for a bit.
Of course, she tried in other ways to prepare me for adulthood. She gave me lots of chores to do and used to chase me around with a wooden spoon sometimes if she thought I was being bad.
When I was 23, my mother sat me down and had one of those chats that mothers have with their kids from time to time. I had just graduated from university with a journalism degree and had turned down some truly awful job offers. She was worried because I hadn’t grown up yet. She pointed out that:
I had fooled around through elementary school.
I had fooled around through high school.
I had fooled around through university.
“WHEN,” she asked, “are you going to get SERIOUS about life?”
In retrospect, because I now have grown up children of my own to worry about, I realize she was really asking herself how she could have raised a child who seemed unwilling – or unable – to grow up into a responsible adult.
Well that was more than 30 years ago and, despite my continued fooling around, I went on to do get some really interesting and responsible jobs – all of them related to writing, editing and publishing. And although she didn’t know it at the time, I now realize that she really had helped prepare me for those jobs when I was a kid… just by reading aloud to me after the dinner dishes were done each evening. There weren’t as many kids books to choose from back then but we read Treasure Island, Tom Sawyer, Black Beauty, Robin Hood and lots of others.
As a result, I loved to read myself. In fact I was always getting in trouble for reading when I was supposed to be doing chores. Or sleeping.
And every Saturday morning, mom would drive us kids to the local public library so we could each borrow three books.
For all her worrying and fretting that day on the couch when I was 23, she could have taken comfort in knowing that she had actually prepared me for a successful life as a writer. She just didn’t realize how important reading was and, when she got me hooked on reading, she gave me a gift that I haved used every day since – to make a living and to enjoy.
As usual, I headed out to a literacy event – this year in Napanee, Ontario. (Hometown of Avril Lavigne and also a few miles from where my kids lived when they were growing up in the little village of Newburgh.) I received my invitation last summer from the organizer, Jennifer Fitzpatrick who used to be my kids’ teenage babysitter but is now a literacy teacher. Well it turns out that Jennifer and all the other village kids I knew back then aren’t kids anymore. A few of them even came to the event to say hello and introduce their own children to me.
Well, when it came time for my reading, I looked out at all the parents who were hoping their kids would grow up wanting to read. And that reminded me how my mother used to read to me on the big couch in our living room. I don’t think she knew how important it was at the time. I think she just liked reading stories aloud and she knew it kept her four kids quiet for a bit.
Of course, she tried in other ways to prepare me for adulthood. She gave me lots of chores to do and used to chase me around with a wooden spoon sometimes if she thought I was being bad.
When I was 23, my mother sat me down and had one of those chats that mothers have with their kids from time to time. I had just graduated from university with a journalism degree and had turned down some truly awful job offers. She was worried because I hadn’t grown up yet. She pointed out that:
I had fooled around through elementary school.
I had fooled around through high school.
I had fooled around through university.
“WHEN,” she asked, “are you going to get SERIOUS about life?”
In retrospect, because I now have grown up children of my own to worry about, I realize she was really asking herself how she could have raised a child who seemed unwilling – or unable – to grow up into a responsible adult.
Well that was more than 30 years ago and, despite my continued fooling around, I went on to do get some really interesting and responsible jobs – all of them related to writing, editing and publishing. And although she didn’t know it at the time, I now realize that she really had helped prepare me for those jobs when I was a kid… just by reading aloud to me after the dinner dishes were done each evening. There weren’t as many kids books to choose from back then but we read Treasure Island, Tom Sawyer, Black Beauty, Robin Hood and lots of others.
As a result, I loved to read myself. In fact I was always getting in trouble for reading when I was supposed to be doing chores. Or sleeping.
And every Saturday morning, mom would drive us kids to the local public library so we could each borrow three books.
For all her worrying and fretting that day on the couch when I was 23, she could have taken comfort in knowing that she had actually prepared me for a successful life as a writer. She just didn’t realize how important reading was and, when she got me hooked on reading, she gave me a gift that I haved used every day since – to make a living and to enjoy.
