Reply #46: In the mid 1990s

[madamesilverspurs]

I went back to school after thirty years. My work-study arrangement had me grading papers for one of the professors, and I was stunned by the level of writing displayed by so many students, further stunned that those kids had made it out of high school.

One paper had 82 misspelled words on one face of the paper. It was puzzling. I'd spoken often with this student and knew she had a grasp of the material, but nothing on the paper made sense - until I read it aloud. Along with letter arrangements that comprised no known words there were numerous homophones (war/wore, mined/mind, our/are). After speaking with her further we discovered that her reading skills were just as bad; she got all her information from oral lectures. There was no way we were going to let her go through four years and then fail to graduate because she couldn't pass the English essay exam. So, we arranged for her to get help through the writing lab and bribed her with raising her letter grade with improvements. It broke my heart when she told me that no one had ever spoken with her about her reading and writing difficulties; she was, in my view, abused by those who failed to educate her.

I consider myself extremely fortunate to have grown up in a family that values reading. My brother had all the Hardy Boys books, I had all the Nancy Drew mysteries. Both parents were avid readers, newspapers in the morning and evening, books before bed; Mom, at 92 and with only one functioning eye, still devours every new book that comes into the library. One of my very earliest memories is of a visit to the Berkley Park Library in Denver when I was so small that I kept track of Mom by reaching up to hold onto the hem of her skirt; I've loved the smell of books ever since.

My own all-time favorite high school class was College Prep English. The required reading materials included Shakespeare, Chaucer, the King James Bible (for style, not substance), William F. Buckley, Tennessee Williams and a modern author of our choice. Our only final exam was a term paper typed on non-erasable bond paper with the watermark upright, facing forward and centered, ibids and op cits properly rendered. And my mother still has that old typewriter.

If I could, I'd give that experience to every kid in the country.