CHAPTER X.

HINTS FOR READING LESSONS.

_Words at the Head of the Lesson._

It is not uncommon to find the lists of words which precede or follow the lessons of the so-called “regular reader” used as the only basis of the study of the lesson. This would be wise if the lists enumerated the only or the chief obstacles to the children’s understanding of the lesson. But as a matter of fact, they must vary greatly in value, sometimes bearing no relation to the real needs of the individual class. They are prepared with the average child in mind, but as some one has humorously said, “The average child does not exist.” They may prove very helpful to one class, and of no possible use to another.

Examine any such list with reference to your own class, or ask the children to study the list with you. You find that the first word is an old friend, the second is made up of two known words, the third is unfamiliar in both meaning and form, the fourth presents a variation from the ordinary rule of spelling, the fifth and the sixth are easy to master or are already well known.

After such a survey, the thoughtful pupil will “study” the third and fourth critically and carefully, the others having been disposed of in the first reading. Such an exercise is profitable, deserving the name of study. The routine direction, “Study the words at the head of the lesson twenty times, and copy them five times,” leads to careless droning over the page and ends in preventing any intelligent study.

_Reading “Without the Book.”_

A visitor in a primary school was astonished by the rapid and fluent reading of a five-year-old who delivered “The Story of a Dog” with remarkable ease and precision. “May I see your book?” the visitor asked. The little lad passed the book to her with smiling consent. “But,” she exclaimed, “there is nothing here that you have read.” “Dear me!” cried the child, looking at the picture, “I got the wrong dog.”

The writer remembers a child who explained with charming naïveté, “I can read my reader all through without the book.” Upon being tested, he proved his statement.

The constant repetition of the pages of the “regular reader” soon imparts this fatal facility, which often completely deceives the teacher. The ability to repeat the story, word for word, does not necessarily involve the power to recognize the words on any page. The children simply memorize the sentences to which they have so often listened, and are reciting by rote, not reading.

Just here the new lesson written upon the board, or the supplementary reading book, is effective. The new arrangement of familiar words demands thoughtful attention, and serves therefore as a test of skill. The teacher should guard against the common tendency to use a single lesson until it becomes useless.

_Word Study apart from the Reading Lesson._

If the words which occur in the reading lesson present such difficulty to the children that their first efforts in reading are seriously hindered, it is wise to make the word study a separate exercise, preparing for the so-called reading lesson. This preparatory lesson, often called “the development lesson,” should make the pupils so familiar with the form of the word that it at once suggests the meaning. If the meaning itself is new, there is need also of the explanatory or illustrative lesson. It may be wise to repeat the suggestion that the explanation does not always explain, and that special illustration is necessary in presenting new ideas to the children. In any case, however, the time taken for “sounding” the word, or the necessity for explaining its meaning, is an interruption to the reading as thought getting, and should be reduced to the lowest terms in the reading exercise. The better plan, with classes of young children, is to arrange a separate time for word study, as a preliminary to individual study of the lesson. Where it is possible to secure the necessary time, the order of the work might be as follows:

1. Class study of new words, with explanation and illustration by the teacher when necessary.

2. Individual study of the lesson at desks, or “busy work” employing new words.

3. Reading the lesson which has been studied.

4. Supplementary reading, sight reading, or review.

This plan is especially adapted to the first year of school, where the time is largely given to language and reading. In the class study phonics finds its proper time and place. In the seat work children make some application of the knowledge just acquired. When the reading exercise takes place, the time should be given to reading, the attention being held to the thought in the lesson.

_Supplementary and Sight Reading._

The supplementary book is intended to afford variety in practice for the young readers, and to prevent the memorizing process, with its hindrance to reading. Its use depends upon circumstances. It should sometimes be used as is the “regular reader”: studied, read, and re-read—that is, if it is worth re-reading. It may be given to the pupils for silent reading only, or for individual reading when other work is done. Selected lessons from the supplementary reading may alternate with those of the more familiar book, or the books may be changed from week to week.

In “sight reading,” so called, the book serves simply as a test of the pupil’s power to read at sight, without definite preparation in the way of study. Such exercises should, of course, present no new difficulty which demands study. As soon as this becomes necessary, the character of the exercise is changed, and it becomes a “study of a lesson” instead of a test or review. The teacher should select, for sight reading, material of a simpler sort than that which is demanded in the current exercises in reading at that period. Second Grade classes may read First Readers. Third Grade classes may use Second Readers, and so on.

Of course this provision becomes useless as soon as the pupils have passed the “learning to read” stage, and are reading for the sake of thought getting only, without reference to training in power to read. Then the supplementary books should be chosen purely with an eye to throwing light on other subjects studied, or for their literary value, and pleasure in reading. Mention has been made elsewhere of the value of school libraries as an aid to the reading habit. Here the Supplementary Reader loses its title, and advances to the grade of a “real book.” Now the cultivation of the reading habit and the love of books is an immediate aim, and the book ceases to serve as a test merely. It is a means to an end, an instrument by whose use new knowledge can be gained or the pleasure of life enhanced. Therefore it is wise to spend carefully the money devoted to books, buying few of a kind, and many kinds now. For reference, for individual reading, for reading to the class, this collection of books is invaluable. The skilful teacher will plan many exercises which will reach far beyond the immediate lesson in their beneficent results.

_Reading Poetry._

Among the many school-room exercises which yield present profit, none other continues its dividends so far into the future as does the intelligent reading and memorizing of a good poem. It has been urged elsewhere that the teacher should frequently read good poetry to the children, often without comment, but sometimes repeating the reading again and again, until the children become familiar with the rhythm, question the meaning, and are ready to memorize the poem. Such exercises are immediately helpful in other reading, while they store the sturdy young memory with treasures, promising enjoyment for future years, which can be gained in no other way. Childhood is the one fit season for amassing such wealth. It is well for the children if the teacher recognizes this opportunity. Just here it may be wise to refer to the interest which attends such exercises in schools where every class chooses a class poet, reading and memorizing selections from his works, and learning something about his life. From the lowest to the highest grade this work proves helpful, and the children’s association with these authors is never forgotten. Something the memory will hold, do what we may. Let us supply materials worthy to endure, preventing the accumulation of stuff which is not merely of indifferent value, but is often positively harmful.

_Friday Afternoons._

The old custom of setting aside a part of Friday afternoons for declamation and recitations is remembered with mingled feelings by the pupils who shared its advantages. Nevertheless the custom should be perpetuated, for such exercises afford an unusual opportunity for practice in reading and reciting for the sake of others. To read aloud so that our hearers can listen with pleasure, gives us the power and privilege of helping and pleasing others. No life is without such opportunities. It is wise to emphasize this accomplishment in our schools, and to expect our pupils to become competent to render this service.

Any exercise which accustoms the children to reading or reciting with ease, modesty, and simplicity, in the presence of, and for the sake of, others, adds materially to their ability to make themselves agreeable as well as useful.

The special exercise, when one class entertains another class in the hall, or when children recite for the audience of schoolmates and parents, differs from the ordinary exercise in motive. Why should one read plainly when everyone else holds a similar book and is reading the same paragraph? But to read to those who have no book, have never read the story, or really desire to hear it, that is another matter.

So, with no artificial manner, voice, or gesture, but with a pure and simple desire to please, let the children read and recite to one another, or to other classes, at least once a week, until the exercise becomes as natural as breathing. And let the power to thus minister to others become one of the common attainments of our pupils.

_Children as Teachers._

The child’s interpretation of that which he reads is often very different from the teacher’s. Yet his rendering does not always disclose his thought. Conversation regarding the lesson brings out the children’s notions, if there is freedom and confidence in the presence of the teacher. But nothing else affords so much light on the subject as the children’s own questions, if they are allowed to question one another. Where the teacher monopolizes the questions, she often monopolizes the thinking, too. Let the children act the part of the teacher, and as they question one another, their own ideas will appear, while the teacher who listens thoughtfully will be able to teach according to the revelation which she hears.

_Management of the Reading Class._

The abandonment of concert reading at once necessitates the reorganization of the reading class. “If I cannot have my children read in concert,” one questions, “how can I keep them interested and attentive through the long reading hour?”

The way of escape from the difficulty is a simple one. Do not expect to arrange to have fifty pupils read at one period, unless there is some work worth doing to demand their attention. The plan of work will vary with the grade of the class and the aim of the lesson.

Is the teacher’s purpose to introduce the class to the lesson thought? To teach them how to study the lesson? To discover what words or phrases or turns of expression present obstacles to the learners? Then fifty may be taught and questioned as well as one, and just as long as general interest and attention can be maintained—no longer.

Is the aim of the teacher to afford practice in oral reading, by drilling upon the rendering of a certain paragraph? Then let her limit the class to ten or twelve at most, leaving the other pupils to busy themselves with written work which admits of definite accomplishment. All pupils become weary of the countless repetitions of their mates, in their stumbling practice. They learn chiefly through their own doing, the correction of their own mistakes. And while the drill is confined to the few,

“Satan finds some mischief still For idle _minds_ to do.”

So the old hymn might be varied by the experienced teacher who remembers unnumbered cases of discipline which have arisen from the monotonous drill exercises in which the wits of the majority of the class were unemployed. By all means, in such cases, drill a few pupils at a time, and let the others be profitably employed in conscious endeavor to accomplish something.

In older classes where the reading has passed the elementary stage, and the pupils are reading for information or enjoyment, neither length of lesson nor number of pupils need be considered. Here, without doubt, the interest in the subject will be paramount, and “method” may be forgotten. Now the children read for the love of reading, and the only gauge of time or number is the teacher’s power to interest her class. The one aim is to get the message from the book, and to make it plain to those who hear. Desire is the spur to endeavor, and attention is at the command of interest. The teacher’s one secret is the art of making her pupils book lovers.

_Concert Reading._

To save time, in the hurried day with its crowded program, is the teacher’s constant desire, and it is not remarkable that, under pressure, achievement is measured by counting the minutes of recitation and numbering the facts learned or the questions answered. It is a common error to assume that mere lip repetition is valuable drill, and that “practice makes perfect,” even when the practice is indifferent or unwise. Quantity is carefully measured, while quality is ignored, in such drill.

To this mistaken estimate the wide prevalence of concert recitation is due. If thirty children read at one time, it would seem that the recitation accomplishes thirty times as much as would be accomplished by a single recitation in the same time. “I could not get through with the lesson,” explains the teacher, “if I did not have my class read in concert.”

The theory appears plausible to the mathematical mind. Upon inspection, however, its failings appear.

In what does the value of the lesson as a reading lesson consist? The exercise should aid the children in getting the thought or in expressing it fluently and naturally. The teacher should be assured that the mind of every reader is intelligently active in the thought getting, and that the practice in expression is such as will lead to independent skill.

But observe: in concert reading the individual difficulties are “skipped.” While John, who fails to recognize a word, falters, hesitates, and halts, Jane, to whom it is an old friend, marches triumphantly on. John takes breath, and plunges in again when his stumbling-blocks have been safely passed (by his comrades). John’s achievement was _nil_, likewise Jane’s, for she knew the word before. As a teaching exercise, then, the concert reading is ineffective. It is safe to assume that it is difficult if not impossible for any teacher to know that all of her pupils are really reading all the time during the concert exercise, or that a seemingly good concert exercise really proves that all the members of the class can master, or have mastered, the lesson.

Again, as a practice in expression the concert exercise is harmful, because it ignores the individual expression and aims at an average movement, inflection, interpretation. The product is not the expression of the thought as it appears to John, Jane, or Henry, but a composite which represents nobody. The sprightly Kate must wait for the ponderous Phœbe; the slow-moving James must lag behind the animated Jack. Let a dozen teachers attempt to read aloud in concert, without previous common training, and the statement will need no further argument.

To the writer the time given to concert reading in the elementary schools seems ill-spent. Definite teaching and practice are possible only when the pupils are considered as individuals. Droning and indifference are cultivated by the concert exercise.

The above statements apply to all exercises whose object is to teach reading. Declamation or recitation of the poem or paragraph which has been studied, read, and mastered by the individuals of the class, or which presents merely an imitation of the teacher’s reading, is included under another head. It deals with known material, and presupposes training which leads to a common interpretation. Such recitation partakes of the nature of song, and here the power to render the thought in unison becomes an element of value. For such exercises special training should be given.

In schools where it is possible for the classes to meet in the hall for morning exercises, or even in preparation for the devotional exercises of any single class, such training is indispensable. To know how to read in responsive exercises, to join with others in the rendition of a favorite psalm, hymn, or other poem, is no trivial acquisition. It is worth while to include in our reading exercises such lessons as will develop this power. Does the ordinary concert exercise do this?

“My country tiserty, Sweet lanter libbutty,”

a child sang happily in a primary school the other day. Upon investigation it fell out that several members of the class sang the same combination.

A parallel instance was reported recently by a teacher whose pupils begged to be allowed to recite

“There’s an old dude left on the daisies and clover.”

Lovers of Jean Ingelow’s exquisite “Songs of Seven” may well take alarm, and inquire the cause of the difficulty.

Such recitation is useless so far as the thought in the song is concerned. No time was saved in these instances by omitting the individual recitation. Individual mastery of the selection should precede any exercise in concert reading.

_It is one thing to own a library; it is, however, another to use it wisely. If I were to pray for a taste which should stand me in stead under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. I speak of it, of course, only as a worldly advantage, and not in the slightest degree superseding or derogating from the higher office, and surer and stronger panoply of religious principles—but as a taste, an instrument, and a mode of pleasurable gratification. Give a man this taste and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making a happy man._

—_SIR JOHN HERSCHEL._