See Spot Run
In the play and movie, “The Miracle Worker”, teacher Annie Sullivan works endlessly to help Helen Keller understand that the word for water, signed into the sightless child’s hand, represents water, the liquid drink. The scene where Helen makes the connection between the word and the concept often moves audiences to tears.
I recall a similar though less dramatic “aha” moment, the exact instant when the reading connection snapped into place for me. In first grade, I sat in a circle with other students, laboring over a book with a red cover and lots of pictures. “See Dick run,” Mrs. Houston said. She pointed to the words on the page. I looked not at the printed words, but at the bright illustration of a boy and a dog running. The teacher went on. “Run, Dick, run,” she read from the next page. The simple narrative continued. “See Spot run. Run, Spot, run.”
I’d wanted to read for at least two years. The older girls in my extended family read stories that whetted my appetite to devour a book without assistance. My mother frequently read little golden books to me. However, she also looked at books that contained nothing but words—no pictures. When could I learn to do the same? I dutifully repeated “Run, Dick, run,” when my turn came to read aloud, but the repetition lacked the allure of “Kerry the Fire Engine Dog” or “The Little Train That Could.”
A few days later, I noticed a newspaper lying on a chair in the kitchen. In the midst of a headline the word “RUN” ignited a flame in my tender young mind. I could read the newspaper! It said “run”, just like the book in my first grade classroom. Although neither Dick nor Spot appeared, I knew without Mom’s interention that someone or something was running. Hallelujah!
Returning to the classroom with renewed motivation, I began to pursue words like Dick and Jane running after Spot. It’s a passion that still burns brightly.
Carlene Havel,
Author of "A Hero's Homecoming" co-author “Daughter of the King”
http://goo.gl/s6EQS
I recall a similar though less dramatic “aha” moment, the exact instant when the reading connection snapped into place for me. In first grade, I sat in a circle with other students, laboring over a book with a red cover and lots of pictures. “See Dick run,” Mrs. Houston said. She pointed to the words on the page. I looked not at the printed words, but at the bright illustration of a boy and a dog running. The teacher went on. “Run, Dick, run,” she read from the next page. The simple narrative continued. “See Spot run. Run, Spot, run.”
I’d wanted to read for at least two years. The older girls in my extended family read stories that whetted my appetite to devour a book without assistance. My mother frequently read little golden books to me. However, she also looked at books that contained nothing but words—no pictures. When could I learn to do the same? I dutifully repeated “Run, Dick, run,” when my turn came to read aloud, but the repetition lacked the allure of “Kerry the Fire Engine Dog” or “The Little Train That Could.”
A few days later, I noticed a newspaper lying on a chair in the kitchen. In the midst of a headline the word “RUN” ignited a flame in my tender young mind. I could read the newspaper! It said “run”, just like the book in my first grade classroom. Although neither Dick nor Spot appeared, I knew without Mom’s interention that someone or something was running. Hallelujah!
Returning to the classroom with renewed motivation, I began to pursue words like Dick and Jane running after Spot. It’s a passion that still burns brightly.
Carlene Havel,
Author of "A Hero's Homecoming" co-author “Daughter of the King”
http://goo.gl/s6EQS
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