But Seriously, Folks.

With the comedy night coming up, we’ve been tending toward the humorous over here.

But, we’ve got to keep in mind… Literacy is no laughing matter.

In South Carolina, about 25% to 30% of adults read below a sixth grade reading level. What was your favorite book in 6th grade? I checked the Barnes & Noble book suggestions for children ages 9-12. (Sixth graders are usually 11, turning 12.) Here’s what they recommended:

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl.  The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster. A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle.  From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E. L. Konigsburg.  Have you read any of these?

OMG, you guys, these are a few of my FAVORITE books from childhood. When talking about Turning Pages, I have repeated that sixth-grade reading level benchmark over and over; it’s considered the defining line that denotes “functionally illiterate.” (I hate that phrase.) But this is the first time I’ve dug deeper into the real meaning of  the “sixth-grade reading level.” Here’s what I’ve found…

As I reflect on these books, I’ve realized just how much each one has impacted my life, even into adulthood. I have read them over and over.  I’ve wished for my own chocolate river and everlasting gobstoppers. I’ve seen the movie adaptations– after high school graduation — ie. well past sixth grade. (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was pretty creepy at the drive-in).

As a child, my dad read From the Mixed Up Files to my brother and me, a chapter at a time, at bedtime. (We would beg him not to turn the light out, to keep reading…) I’ve gone to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, for the express purpose of looking for the fountain where Claudia and Jamie took baths when they ran away from home to live in the museum. (Yes, I found it.) And when my youngest brother was 7 or 8, I made sure the book was read to him.

I remember discussing The Phantom Tollbooth with a friend, when I was 19,  in the cafeteria of our college dorm. I read A Wrinkle In Time last summer on the beach. I was in sixth grade when the very first Harry Potter book came out, but now, as an adult with a Master’s degree, I’ve added a visit to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter to my bucket list.

They may be “just” children’s books, but clearly the reach is farther than that.

Adult education tends to focus on the practical. At Turning Pages, we do learner-led instruction, which means that often, learners want to cover material related to getting their commercial drivers license, or balancing their bank account, or making some healthy recipes. But other times, they want to read what their child is reading in school, or want to read something to their child. We can never predict the true meaning of helping someone bring reading into their life, but we can be sure that the meaning is there.

Read more about becoming a tutor, or other ways you can help.

Sow seeds wherever you go

The man made eye contact with me in the rear view mirror. His eyes were hazel, opened wide in surprise, and most alarmingly, not on the road, which overflowed with taxis and bus lanes, bums and bicycles.  I knew that I should have confidence in this seasoned New York driver to safely pilot his yellow Toyota Sienna taxicab, I just wished he’d watch the road. He had just asked me where I worked, and I’d told him that I’m the volunteer coordinator at an adult literacy organization.

“Literacy?” he asked. “As in, able to read?” He verified my meaning or his hearing, or both.

“Yes, adult literacy.”

“You are telling me,” he said in accented but fluid English, “that here, in the greatest country in the – the – the UNIVERSE,” he said with humor that was both teasing and affectionate, “there are people older than 8, 9 years old, who cannot read?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

His eyes opened wider. I wondered if his ocular muscles would rupture as they strained to convey his shock.

“Well, they must be immigrants,” he said. His eyes settled back into their sockets once this reasonable explanation had occurred to him. We glided up Park Avenue.

“Well, some are,” I told him. “But some are Americans.” I explained that it is my job to recruit and train volunteers to be reading tutors.

“I came to this country 13, almost 14 years ago,” he said. His taxicab operator’s license, posted on the headrest of his seat, indicated his eastern European origin. “I attended the classes for English as a Second Language two, three times a week. I didn’t learn much. And then I met with the girl, the English tutor, one-on-one, and that is when I learned English. She was very helpful. You find people like her, who help?”

“Yes, I recruit the volunteers. Some of our clients can read and write and just want to learn English,” I told him. “But some can only read a little, and want to learn. Many adults in South Carolina cannot read well. Many adults in the whole country.”

“In New York? Not in New York!!” He did the shocked, eye-popping, rearview mirror face again, while the cab zoomed around a corner. “Not even in Harlem, or the Bronx, are there adults who cannot read,” he asserted. But there was a question in his tone. He clearly had a love and patriotism for the United States, and especially for New York.

“In New York it’s about 15, maybe 20% of adults who can’t read well,” I said. “It’s a lot worse in the South.”

“And how is it that so many adults cannot read? Did they not go to school, or…?” We merged onto FDR Drive. The East River was greenish gray in the morning light.

“Many reasons,” I said. “Some people have learning disabilities or dyslexia. Some people live in rural farming areas and school was very far away, or they had to help work on the farm to support the family. Some people, their father died or something and they had to drop out of school and go to work.”

He was smart and open-minded; once again I could see the plausible explanations crystallizing in his mind.

“But what do they do? How can a person who can’t read, have any kind of job? Maybe cleaning, or dishwashing…” The full impact of literacy was dawning on him. “They can’t read the newspaper or contracts, or forms at the doctor’s office… And what about their children?”

“It’s better for the whole community when its residents are literate,” I said. “Companies don’t want to start up in a place where there are under-educated employees. Children are more likely to learn to read if their parents can read.” I recited my elevator speech, watching in his face as his understanding rapidly eclipsed the shock.

“Wow.  So there is less tax dollars, and – and – less money for schools, and – ”  he said as we crossed over the Long Island Expressway bridge. He was looking for the EZ Pass toll lane, and I was looking at New York, still unfolding before my eyes. Throughout the trip I was constantly amazed that yes, New York is really that crowded. And from the vantage point of the bridge, I could see where a percentage of them lived: rows and rows of brick buildings laid out like child’s blocks as far as I could see…

“So you help them learn reading so they can get better jobs? And then it is better for the whole community. Not just the individual person.”

“Exactly,” I replied. “It’s better for everyone when adults are able to read.” Now he had made the key logical leap that sometimes policy-makers get hung up on. We help people on an individual basis, one by one, but with an eye to the community as a whole. And it works – our number one source of new clients is word-of-mouth.

“So you are doing this work to improve the whole town of Columbia, South Carolina.” he said. Yes!

After a weekend of flitting around New York in the colorful, rollicking, almost magical subway (cram in, hang on, and pop out at your destination!), I experienced it differently in the cab. (The above-ground version of cram in, hang on!) As I got out of the cab at LaGuardia airport and waved goodbye to our newest Friend of Literacy, I felt that we had both truly learned something about our world.